we wore a crown once (b.b. x reader)
pairing: Prince!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader, Royal AU
summary: he was desperately looking to be an ordinary man for a day. she never liked extraordinary things either anyways.
word count: about 1.3K
warnings: none that I can think of
A/N: this is my first AU. I made up the town names, just in case. criticism is appreciated as long as it's respectful!
Emelle is the name of the town this story is set in.
(gif and photo not mine, credits to the owner)
Bucky donned the clothes he had requested from his tailor: something befitting a common man, with gloves and sleeves covering up his prosthetic well. This was very much the first time he was wearing simple wool.
He didn't mind, though. Velvets and cashmeres only pleased a man so much. It didn't particularly please anybody who grew up in them, atleast not Bucky.
A quick single rap on his door made him aware that his ride was ready for him. He looked at himself in the mirror for the last time, hoping no man would recognise the prince out of his silks and velvets, and made his way out of his chambers.
He made sure the servants and knights didn't see his face, hoping that if nobody saw him like this, nobody would know the prince was gone for the day.
He wasn't a prince, he had to remind himself. Not today.
For today he was a common man.
James was his name, a man with no last name. A man without a surname meant a bastard, someone most people would not talk too much to. James would be free to explore for however long he pleased, or however long it took for Bucky's mother, the Queen Regent, to realise he was missing and send out knights to find him.
The chariot was waiting for him with his squire and best friend, Steve.
"Everything as planned?" he asked his friend.
Steve nodded and asked him to climb in quickly, lest they risk being seen.
The chariot only took them as far as the castle was in sight. After that, James hopped off and entered the city as a common man.
He did not know what he'd expect but he didn't expect, well, so much suffering.
It felt like a bucket of cold water was splashed on his face as he saw the reality of how most lived. It made him all the more determined to be a good prince and, one day, king.
But as he was explaining a rather empty, but economically well off, street with a handful of shops, he chanced upon a girl, possibly the most beautiful and cutest girl he has ever laid eyes on.
And Bucky Barnes had seen some of the most beautiful princesses and noble ladies in the world.
She was handling a bakery with an older woman, possibly her mother.
Without thinking, his legs took him to the shop.
She looked at him, plastering a friendly smile. "Hello, I'm (Y/N). How may I help you, Mister...?"
"James." he smiled. He had almost uttered Bucky.
"Hi." He knew he was flustered right now but he couldn't help it.
James didn't have the same confidence Bucky did.
She furrowed her brows in confusion. "How may I help you?" She repeated.
"What all do you have for sale today?" He enquired.
"All kinds of things. Cakes, breads, pies, you name it. Anything special you're looking for?"
"Do you have some plum pie?"
"We do!" She went behind the counter and picked up the pie. "Today is your lucky day, sir, because we don't make plum pies a lot."
"Today is a lucky day, indeed, my lady." He said, gazing at her intently.
She blushed under his attention, not accustomed to it. "Should I pack it?"
"Yes, thank you."
"Anything else?" She wanted him to spend more time at the shop. Not having seen him before, she wasn't sure if he was going to come here again.
"Nothing for now." He was trying hard to come up with an excuse to stay longer. Lord knows when he'll be able to sneak out of the castle like this again, if ever.
She packed the pie, handing him the bag and collecting the money.
"Are you free right now, my lady?" He dared to ask. "I had trouble finding places and was wondering if you could show me around?"
(Y/N) looked at the back of the shop, where her mother was busy doing god knows what. "Mother, can I go with Mister James and show him around for some time?"
Her mother looked up to the man, narrowing her eyes in what (Y/N) calls a motherly inspection. Finding something she was looking for, she softened her gaze and gave her approval, muttering something about a slow day.
(Y/N) put away her apron and came out of the shop, smiling at James. "So are you a tourist?" She asked.
He nodded. "I come from a small town called Aynor." Bucky had heard of the town on his last visit to Sokovia. It was part of his cover up. "It's just on the outskirts of Sokovia."
"Sokovia? I would've never guessed you come from overseas." She said.
For a moment, Bucky thought his ruse was caught, but she started talking about the town plaza and everything was back to normal.
His charade was still up.
The day went well. Really well. James and (Y/N) had a spectacular time together. James even learnt (Y/N) didn't like the Royal Family much but she had heard that Prince Bucky was one of the most handsome men in the country. That made him smile and flush slightly.
It was nearing dusk now and both of them were making their way along the river's shoreline that ran parallel to the town, going back to (Y/N)'s shop.
"Thank you for a beautiful day." James said.
"It was my pleasure." Initially, (Y/N) had apprehensions for taking a tourist around the town for free. However, after having an amazing day with the man herself, she almost forgot she wanted to ask for any kind of fee. Her family was well off than most in the city, so she wasn't desperate for the fee either.
"How long are you in town?" She asked the man beside her.
"Just today." He said, both of their smiles deflating.
"Oh. It was a pleasure having you in town today, Mister James."
Bucky hadn't noticed till now that (Y/N) didn't care that James was a bastard. Everybody else before her shared limited words with him. She was different.
"Will you be back soon?"
"I hope so." He said truthfully.
Me too, (Y/N) thought, though she didn't voice it.
The plum pie in James' hand was long gone, both of them sharing it as lunch under a tree near the riverbed.
"Your hands must have magic." James had said to her chewing the first bite of the pie.
(Y/N) had blushed. "My mother makes all the sweets. I only manage the finances."
He had shrugged and looked at her adoringly still.
Now, as her shop neared, she wanted to spend more time with him. He was a gentleman, also funny and witty. She had never met a man like him before.
He didn't seem to chase after all the material things that most people want to boast. For the most day, he was content looking at the town and its attractions, wanting to learn all of the history and townsfolk's opinions. He didn't seem to visit Emelle for its finest and most expensive handicraft, rather came with a genuine interest for the stories.
He was different, in all sense.
Her mother was closing up the shop, violet had already started streaking the sky above, and James had bowed low to both of them, thanking (Y/N) once again for a beautiful day. He took out two copper coins from his pocket, handing them to her as means of a fee.
"You were kind enough to not ask for a fee, but it isn't in my nature to ask for your time for free. You did a great favour to me today. Consider that a thanks." And with that, he turned his back to her. "I have to go now." His steps were brisk, his words hushed. She figured his ship or carriage must be taking off. Although people did not usually travel at night, it was not unknown.
In truth, Bucky had seen some knights further down the road, so he knew his time was up.
Nevertheless, he felt happy for the day he spent, determined to come to her again.
this is a new type of story for me plus this is also my first Bucky fic. please tell me what you thought of this introduction, it's appreciated! this was just to set their relationship a bit, I wish to explore the world more in later parts. no promises as to when the next part will be released tho :P
as always, thank you so much for reading!
taglist is open!
ok but biker!bucky is literally my comfort person like sir i love you so much just please whisk me away from here and let's spend the rest of our lives together
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How many tattoos do Steve and Bucky have and where are they And what are they?
Hi, lovely anon! I actually plan to go into detail with this as the series continues. I know that's a terrible answer for now, but I have something intimate planned and don't want to give it away. 🥰 Stay tuned, thank you and happy reading! ❤️
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List of places tattooed Bucky and Steve have ruined our reader:
Kitchen counter ✅
Living room floor ✅
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On My Knees For You
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader
Word Count: 1407
Summary: The sickly green tiles have sharp edges that cut into your knees, shredding your worn fishnets. The whole bathroom is done in the same vomit-green tile, and it casts the two of you in anemic colors. Bucky is standing over you, looking tall and intimidating in the nasty light of the dirty club bathroom.
Notes: Based on this Instagram post. Seb is playing Tommy Lee, which idgaf about. So Bucky became a rockstar (and kept his metal arm okay), and this fic happened. I’m sorry. I’m a hoe for a tattooed badass.
Warnings: smut, porn without plot, rough sex, face-fucking, choking, penis in vagina sex
DISCLAIMER: 18+ ONLY PLEASE. By clicking Read More you agree that you are 18 or over. I do not consent for minors to read any part of this fic.
Posted on Ao3: HERE
Do me a favor and reblog this if you like it. I really appreciate it. 💜💜💜
“Open up, dollface,” he says, tracing his thick thumb across your bottom lip. Your mouth pops open automatically, and the rough digit sweeps across your tongue, tasting of cigarettes and whiskey. If you could taste the tattoos that swirl over his skin they’d taste like licorice, angry and black, and as lethal as the man who wears them.
The sickly green tiles have sharp edges that cut into your knees, shredding your worn fishnets. The whole bathroom is done in the same vomit-green tile, and it casts the two of you in anemic colors. Bucky is standing over you, looking tall and intimidating in the nasty light of the dirty club bathroom.
“Open wide, dollface,” he growls, “don’t choke on it.” His thumb on your tongue, and index finger under your chin, he roughly pries your mouth wide with his pincer-grip. His cock is huge, and you’re not sure how he expects that you won’t choke on it, but damn if you ain't gonna try.
Your eyes are on his face, framed with long shaggy hair, dark eyes ringed with smudged kohl. He’s biting his bottom lip when his fat cockhead slides over your tongue.
He’s only just started feeding you his dick and you already feel the strain in your jaw. He slides his thumb out of your mouth so he can slip more of his prick in. His fist is wrapped around the base of his cock and the metallic fingers are still an impossibly long way away from bumping against your lips. In a blink, his rough grip changes, and his fingers are pressed into your cheeks, wrenching your jaw even wider. With a grunt he thrusts in, finally his metal fingers are gone, and he’s pushing past your gag reflex.
And you do choke then, a wet, broken gagging sound that makes Bucky grunt, and you feel a wet drizzle of precome slide down the back of your throat.
“Fuck you sound pretty, gagging on my cock, dollface.” Another thrust, and it happens again. He cups his unyielding metal hand around the back of your head and starts fucking your face in earnest. Tears are running down your cheeks, and you can feel drool coursing down your chin every time he pulls out.
He abruptly withdraws from your mouth, sending you rocking forward, hand planted between your knees to keep yourself from falling. His metal arm winds itself into the hair at the nape of your neck, and your skin tingles when he uses it to pull you to your feet.
He’s backed you against the wall now, the metal fingers are wrapped around your throat. He kisses you roughly, not caring about the mess he made of your face. His right hand is under your skirt, rubbing against the soaked fabric of your panties.
“Dollface, you’re dripping for me. Can’t wait for me to fuck you, can you?” You shake your head, and with a quick yank, your panties are gone. Bucky tosses the shredded mess onto the floor. His fingers are back to rub your cunt, but the fishnets are in his way now, so he rips them right up the middle.
You groan when he shoves three thick fingers into you with a wet squelch. Slick runs down your thighs and Bucky curses at how drenched you are.
Your knees go weak when he bends to kiss you again. His tongue is in your mouth, and your legs aren’t supporting you at all anymore, but you don’t so much as budge from your spot on the wall. Bucky’s metal arm has you pinned in place as surely as if you’d been mounted there with screws.
Then his big hands are on your ass, scooping you up to wrap your legs around him. His thick cock is nudging against your pussy, and you make a broken sound when he starts pushing in slowly.
He feels even bigger than he looked when he was in your mouth, and the stretch hurts in the sweetest fucking way. “Oh, fuck, Bucky,” you groan, “so big.”
“Yeah. Fuck, you’re tight. You can take it, dollface. Know you can.”
Finally his hips snug up against your ass, and you’re having trouble breathing because you’re full of his cock. With a primal growl he starts fucking you hard and fast, punching weak pleading noises out of you. You cling to his shoulders, your nails leaving hot, angry furrows in his skin.
He perches your ass on the edge of the filthy countertop, and the new angle drives his cock right into your g-spot. An orgams rolls over you without warning. Bowing your back, and balling your hands into fists, you leave a pattern of bloody half moons all over his shoulders. A gush of hot, slick fluid rushes out of you, drenching the front of his leather pants with your come.
He pulls out of you with a grunt, spinning you, and pushing you onto the countertop. He pushes back into your pussy and fucks you through the aftershocks of your orgasm. He yanks you back against his chest, letting you leave one knee on the countertop, and hooking his tattooed arm under your other leg to spread you open for him. His cool metal hand is wrapped around your throat. And maybe it’s a promise. Maybe it’s a warning. Maybe it’s a threat.
You’re both in the reflection of the dirty mirror over the sink. Bucky shines with a sheen of sweat, but other than that she shows no sign of strain. He isn’t even out of breath.
“Look at that, will ya?” his Brooklyn drawl is even thicker when he’s got his dick in you. “Tight little pussy split open on my cock. Look so fucking good when you’re full like this, doll.”
He spreads his big hand over your lower abdomen. “Fuckin swear I can feel myself right here.” The pressure helps him pound into your g-spot again and sends another orgasm burning through you, and you come with another rush of fluid, screaming Bucky’s name. The rapid-fire orgasms make your head swim.
“Oh fuck,” Bucky chokes out. You’re squeezing around him, and you feel so much tighter from this angle, and he’s racing toward his own release.
He grits his teeth together, and brings chilly fingers to your clit. “One more time for me,” he demands, “come on doll. I’m close.” And he doesn’t even have to ask, because you’re already right fucking there, as his fingers push you over the edge, screaming and gasping his name.
“Yeah, that’s it,” he grits out in a rough voice, “Oh fuck—”
A heartbeat goes by where he feels impossibly large, and then his cock is throbbing inside you, flooding you with his hot, sticky come. Bucky bites your neck as he fucks out his last few strokes, pushing jizz out of you, leaving a streaky mess on his leathers.
Much more gently than he’s been so far, he spins you in his arms, and sets you on the countertop. He passes you a handful of paper towels from the dispenser, and grabs more for himself.
“I think you ruined these pants,” he chuckles, “And I’m not even gonna say how wet the inside of my boots are.”
“I can hardly be blamed for that,” you sniff.
He holds his hands up in supplication, “I’m just saying—you were there too.”
You giggle as he leans against the countertop, tucking you under his arm.
“You ever fuck a rocksar before, doll?”
You snort a laugh. “Only every single day, punk.”
Bucky chuckles and you elbow him in the side.
“And everytime I touch myself...” you continue.
Bucky grins at you like a predator, “Oh doll, now we’re talkin’...”
“Down boy. I know you don’t need to recover, but I sure as shit do.”
“Well, I’m feeling generous, so you take five.”
Your laughter echoes off the grotesquely colored tiles. Steve, the bass player for your band The Howling Commandos peeks through a crack in the door. “If you pervy fuckers are done, the bus leaves in fifteen. Don’t worry about packing up your equipment, I took care of it…” Steve turns away with an eye roll, mumbling, “like I always fuckin do.”
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Alright. I was up way too late last night making a rock star Bucky edit and thinking of a new fic. And then I started writing today. So. Here’s a preview for anyone interested
Musician Bucky AU
Bucky Barnes x F!Librarian Reader
Rating: 18+ explicit. Will contain language, smut, angst, and likely drugs/alcohol
Summary: Bucky breaks up his band and comes home before one final tour. On his first night there, he runs into an old classmate and sparks fly
A/N: I’ll be working on this as I can over the rest of the weekend and will hopefully have a full chapter up this week. I’ll also likely be listening to A LOT of Every Time I Die for this one, particularly New Junk Aesthetic and Ex Lives. Highly recommend if you’re into metal/metalcore to set the mood.
Bucky looks up at the woman bouncing and grinding in his lap. This isn’t what he wanted. Ok, that’s not entirely true. She felt like heaven and sounded like an angel. But he didn’t want it like this. He had intended to go about this the right way. Ask her on a date, take her somewhere nicer than the driver’s seat of his car in a bar parking lot at 2 am.
The point of him moving back home, taking some time off before the final tour, was to start getting his shit in order. To get his life together. He was tired of the sex, drugs, and rock and roll; the complete cliche of it all. He lost his passion for music a long time ago, now it was all about the next high and the next fuck. He missed giving a shit about music.
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I need opinions, I’ve got a draft of a Bucky x Steve’s ex wife reader set after he goes back to Peggy. But I can’t decide to make it a long one shot or a multiple part mini series
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Bucky x Sarah - The Nanny AU
Sarah is the rich widow with two kids to take care of. Bucky is the broke disabled veteran without any childcare experience but Sarah's children fall in love with his metal arm instantly.
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Those Who Fall: "APTF" Story (Modern Domestic Stucky AU)
**TRIGGER WARNING** Medical attention needed and kidnapping
Protectively, Bucky kept Steve behind him as they approached the cracked door. Cautiously, Bucky eased it open the rest of the way. A light was on in the living room, which made Steve's stomach tie into knots. Hoping that it was Wanda or Vis up late watching scary movies. Or hell, Steve wouldn't mind if they walked in on Wanda and Vis making out on the sofa again! Or even Sarah up late reading, despite her typically going to bed at eight when she didn't have to work a late shift at the hospital. As they heard Holly crying from her room, Steve wanted to reason that perhaps Sarah had turned the light on when she went to attend to her granddaughter.
All of that hope vanished when they walked through the entry and found Sarah unconscious on hardwood floor.
Racing towards his mom, Steve dropped down to his knees and tossed the bat she must've been holding onto. Moving her hair away from her face, he noticed a gash in her forehead and his heart sank further. Checking her pulse and that she was breathing, Steve tried to rouse her, "Mom? Mom, can you hear me? Mom?"
When there was no reply, Steve could feel himself panicking and he pulled out his phone. Hands shaking, Steve dialed 911. Thankfully, it didn't take long for the dispatcher to answer, "Nine-one-one. What's your emergency?"
"Yes, hi, I need an ambulance," Steve replied, giving the address, "And possibly the police."
"Alright, and what is your name, sir?"
"And what is the reason for needing an ambulance, Mr. Barnes?"
Steve kept checking for Sarah's pulse and grew more relieved every time that he felt it. "My husband and I just got home to find the door broken in and my mom unconscious on the floor."
"Okay, sir. Is your mom breathing?"
"She is," Steve confirmed.
"Alright, sir. We'll be sending some officers to check ou--"
"STEVE, THE KIDS ARE GONE!"
A chill shot down Steve's spine at Bucky's frantic tone. Holly was still sobbing, and Sarah was still unconscious, and their children were missing.
"Our kids are gone," Steve could feel himself hyperventilating as he pleaded, "Please, please hurry!"
"They're on their way, Mr. Barnes," the operator assured, "And I'm going to need you to calm down. Okay, Mr. Barnes?"
Only Steve couldn't calm down. How could he when no air was entering his lungs? How could he when he just kept gulping like a fish out of water? How could he when he felt like he was drowning?
Dizzy with his fear and from the lack of oxygen, Steve wasn't aware that Bucky had joined him until he took the phone from him. The brunet dug through their overnight bag for Steve's inhaler and set their crying eleven month old in his lap as he helped Steve use the medical device. On the phone, Bucky relayed to the emergency operator what was currently going on while trying to keep himself together with everything seemingly falling apart around them.
But Bucky was always better under pressure. The strong one whenever Steve needed him to be. So, that was the role that Bucky slipped into.
From there, Steve lost sense of all time. It felt like all he did was blink and suddenly, the EMTs were surrounding them. Some were looking over Sarah. Some were looking him over. All Steve could do was sit there and let them check his vitals and shine that annoying little light into his eyes.
"What the fuck are you doing here?"
That caught Steve's attention as he turned to look at the front of the house where two police officers were standing. Once he noticed that Brock was one of those officers, Steve snapped.
"You've gotta be fucking kidding me!" Standing from his spot on the floor, he crossed the room and didn't stop until he was standing in front of Brock. "You're a police officer? How the fuck did you --" interrupting himself, Steve exhaled deeply through his nose so he could try to keep himself together "-- know what? I don't even care. I don't want you in my house."
"Listen, you and Bucky can be as angry as you want, but we were told that this was a potential burglary and possible kidnapping," Brock looked from Steve to Bucky and back again. "And I'd really like to make sure that those kids get found, alright?"
Clenching his jaw, tears started building in the rim of Steve's eyes and he moved out of the way, so the two men could do their jobs. Standing next to Bucky, he finally saw the rest of the destruction. Throw pillows torn open, couch cushions slashed. Picture frames were smashed and so was the TV.
Breaking down when they lifted Sarah onto the gurney and carried her out of the house, Steve turned into Bucky. Holly was in Bucky's arms with her head on his broad shoulder, so at least one of their kids was safe with them. But Steve couldn't help but okay that the other littles were okay wherever they were. Hoping that this was all a big misunderstanding where Wanda and Vis took the littles out for ice cream or something and they were going to walk through the door any minute just as shocked at Steve and Bucky had been.
Unfortunately, that didn't happen.
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Hey, Alpha Masterlist
Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader, Clintasha, Steggy
Warnings: Abo dynamics, cursing and all the stuff that comes with abo fics.
Twitter profiles part 1/ part 2
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Twitter Profiles Part 2
Taglist under the cut
@cherryblossomskye @thehumanistsdiary @swtltlmrvlgrl @imerdwarf @indigo123789 @harrysthiccthighss @moonlitskinandcrimsonribbons @mypalbuck @mystictimetravelcolor @beenlovingromansincedayoneish @fandom-basurero @its-sky-scraper @modernvellichor @buckybarnesthehotshot @dreamwritesimagines @watersofmars
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Twitter Profiles Part 1
Taglist under the cut
@cherryblossomskye @thehumanistsdiary @swtltlmrvlgrl @imerdwarf @indigo123789 @harrysthiccthighss @moonlitskinandcrimsonribbons @mypalbuck @mystictimetravelcolor @beenlovingromansincedayoneish @fandom-basurero @its-sky-scraper @modernvellichor @buckybarnesthehotshot @dreamwritesimagines @watersofmars
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Chris Evans and his characters :
▪ Chemical Romance
(Chris Evans x reader) (dark fic)
(Chris Evans x reader)
▪ A Simple Solution
(Andy Barber x reader x Ari Levinson)
▪ Life In The Fast Lane 1 2 3 4
(CEO! Alpha Ari Levinson x Mechanic! Omega reader)
▪ Just a Simple Lie
(Chris Evans x reader)
▪ Everything Unexpected
(Ari Levinson x reader)
▪ Do You Feel What I Feel?
(Andy Barber x reader)
▪ What You Don't Know Series
(Steve Rogers x reader)
▪ Strenght In-Between The Breaks
(Andy Barber x Stripper! reader)
▪ Fixing The Broken Series
▪ The Concubine Series
(King!Steve x reader x King!Bucky) (dark fic)
▪ Never Tear Us Apart
(Soft!dark Andy Barber x reader)
▪ The Five Times You Told Ransom Drysdale you Loved Him (And The
One Time He Said It Back)
(Ransom Drysdale x reader)
▪ Twice Bitten (I) Twice Burned (II) Twice Mine (III)
(Vampire!Stucky x reader) (dark fic)
▪ None Of Your Concern
(Chris Evans x reader) (dark fic)
▪ Dynamite And Whiskey Series
(Soft!dark Andy Barber x reader)
▪ At The Edge Of The Woods 1 2
(Werewolf! Steve Rogers x reader)
▪ Golden Cage
(Soft!dark Andy Barber x reader)
▪ Secrets From The Deep
(Ari Levinson x mermaid! reader)
(Soft!dark Andy Barber x reader)
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✨ All fics are complete! ✨
He Loves Me Cause I’m Cute, He Thinks I’m Pretty Funny | 2588 words 📱
He watches it back one more time after it posts, checking for typos in his subtitles and captions, and has to laugh again.
Steve fucking Rogers? His brain thought he could pull Captain America, literal superhero and America’s favorite sweetheart?
“Hello I’m a 35 year old amputee living in New York and I think that I could get Steve Rogers.”
the one where bucky posts a tiktok and steve is utterly smitten.
Summer Slipped Us Underneath Her Tongue | 10712 words 🧳
Bucky is a tour guide who enjoys sharing the rich history and culture of each city they pass through with a bunch of early-20's college students who just want to know the cheapest place to get drunk.
Except for Steve, who asks Bucky for a personal tour around his hometown.
The rest is, as they say, history.
You Make My Heart Skip A Beet | 3853 words 🧑🏼🍳
“I made soda bread.”
Steve lets out the 6’2” supersoldier equivalent of a squeak. “Oh, I love soda bread,” he says eagerly, rolling forward on the balls of his feet like he does when he gets excited. “My mom used to make it all the time when I was growing up.”
The tips of Barnes’s ears turn red, and he mutters something that sounds suspiciously like, “I know.”
Ollie Meets Bagel | 5517 words 🥯
He was a skater boy, Steve said let's get bagels, boy.
Steve wants to start doing this twenty-first century thing properly. He gets help in the form of skateboarding, skateboarders, bagels, and Sam Wilson.
Taxi | 5113 words 🚕
Bucky Barnes was, he hoped, a good taxi driver.
He's so good, he actually tries to return lost property that ends up left in his car and... well. It has some unexpected consequences involving a National Icon.
Leg Day | 12157 words 🏋️♂️
“So talk to him,” Sam says.
“I can’t,” Bucky groans. “I can’t, Sam, I. He just.” He fluffs his hair up and stares at Sam, distraught. “I want him to bench press me.”
“Okay, so it’s serious,” Sam interprets. “Got it."
(Or: The one where Sam is Bucky's long-suffering roommate, Bucky is a hot mess of a millennial, and Hot Steve spends far too much time on the Lat Pull-Down machine.)
Love In Aisle Four | 2127 words 🛍️
When Bucky needs to swing by the supermarket after a long, hard day of work, the last thing he expects is to meet a cute grocery clerk named Steve…
Coming Up Easy | 45515 words ✍🏻
“Listen, I was just thinking,” Steve says, his face open, eyebrows raised in a tentatively hopeful expression. “Why don’t you come stay at my place for a while? I’ve got an office that I barely use, and a change of scenery might do you good, right? Help you beat that writer’s block?” With a crooked smile, he adds, “I promise I’m not a serial killer.”
While Bucky would normally crack a joke about how that’s exactly what a serial killer would say, right now, all he can do is blink at Steve in surprise, heart tripping over itself in his chest. Steve wants him to come and stay at his place. In Massachusetts. Just the two of them.
"Oh," Bucky croaks. "I- Wow."
“I mean, no pressure,” Steve says hastily. “Totally fine if you don’t wanna. I just thought I’d offer, in case it might help, y’know?”
“Yeah.” Bucky ignores the little voice in his head that sounds an awful lot Nat and Becca, telling him he’s setting himself up for heartbreak. “I mean, if you’re sure, that would be amazing.”
Anywhere The Wind Blows | 8845 words 👨🚒🎖️
After a catastrophic fire that shakes him to his core, Steve Rogers quits his job as a Brooklyn firefighter and relocates to a cabin in the remote Canadian wilderness, wanting quiet and solitude and to maybe never have to speak to another human being ever again. He gets his wish, more or less, until a recently injured Bucky Barnes is discharged from the Army and rents the cabin next door.
The Safer Course | 7918 words | Part 1 of Won’t You Be My Neighbor 🏡
When Steve moves to the suburbs in 2033, he intends to retire from superhero life.
He does not intend to fall in love with his pain-in-the-ass neighbor.
Every Year I Have You | 7064 words | Part 2 of Won’t You Be My Neighbor 🏡
Steve set the bar pretty high, as birthday presents go.
Bucky is determined to outdo him when July 4th comes around.
Beneath The Mistletoe | 21203 words 🎄
Bucky had a bet with his sister that if he didn’t have a boyfriend to bring home for Christmas by the time he was 25, he had to give her $200 and go blonde for a year. But now he's 25, it’s nearing December, and not only is Bucky as single as ever, but he’s also running low on cash. He doesn’t exactly want to bleach his hair, either.
At least Steve is willing to upgrade their relationship from best friends to fake boyfriends.
The Settler | 52203 words 🍞
“What do you want to do?”
Steve pauses and looks at them.
What he wants is to stay with them. He doesn't have any family left, they all died before he even joined the war and became... this. Captain America turned whatever he is now. But Natasha and Sam have become his family over the years. Not just because they're on the run together, fugitives and vigilantes, but way before that too.
He doesn't want to leave that.
But he knows that, realistically, he can't stay with them and they can't stay with him.
So he looks at them with a smile and lies. “I don't know.”
OR; In which Steve retires and finally finds a place to call home.
You Can’t Put Your Arms Around A Memory | 1148 words 🐈
"Alright, Bucky," Steve slows his steps, watches his neighbour stop at the bottom of the next flight of stairs. There's a canvas bag in his hand that Steve didn't notice earlier, cream coloured with the figure of a sleeping, black cat painted on it. "Have a good day."
He thinks Bucky's cheeks pink up a bit right then and there, but Steve can't tell. He's too distracted by his pounding, foolish heart, by the way Bucky smiles bashfully, and ducks his head. The way he seems like he wants to stay.
To Believe In Tomorrow | 3959 words 👨🏻🌾
Bucky's mornings at the community garden get a little more interesting when the new guy shows up.
Maybe This Christmas | 24873 words | Part 1 of Maybe ❄️
Bucky’s not going home for Christmas. But it’s fine. He’s spending Christmas alone in his apartment, but it’s cool. He’s not feeling up to seeing his family after his accident anyway, plus he has to work. He’s totally fine with it. But then he runs into Steve, literally, and suddenly his Christmas isn’t looking so empty after all.
Hurrying was a bad idea. Bucky’s foot hits a patch of ice and slides out from under him in what would have been a comical cartoon banana-peel-like trip, if it wasn’t happening to him, and he braces himself to hit the ground. This is going to hurt.
“Fuck,” Bucky screeches, but as he lands on his back, it’s not the cold hard concrete he expected, but a solid mass beneath him. Oh god, Bucky thinks as he realises he smacked into the person behind him and took them down with him.
Maybe This Year (Will Be Better Than Last) | 133868 words | Part 2 of Maybe ❄️
Last year, Bucky Barnes met Steve Rogers. Well actually, he slipped and fell on him. What followed was the best Christmas either of them had ever had. But what happens when Christmas is over and life returns to normal? What happens after the Christmas miracle?
Bucky should have known. He did know. When things seem too good to be true, they usually are. And Steve is the best thing that has happened to him in a long time, possibly ever, so of course it couldn’t last.
Maybe This Time (I Hope I Get The Chance To Say Goodbye) | 34561 words | Part 3 of Maybe ❄️
Steve and Bucky Barnes are happily married. They've made it through some hard times and come out stronger and happier, together. Then Steve gets called on to come out of retirement for the most important mission of his life and everything changes. Everything.
“Have yourself a merry little Christmas…” Steve starts singing along softly, and Bucky chuckles, before leaning his head onto Steve’s shoulder, always happy when he’s in Steve’s arms.
“From now on, our troubles will be miles away…” Bucky joins in.
Dancing round their living room, just as in love as ever, their troubles seem light-years away, if not non-existent.
Sadly, they’re closer than they think.
The Unexpected Gift | 9504 words | Part 1 of When Winter Comes 🐕
Steve Rogers is fine.
After ending a long-term relationship with Sam Wilson, Steve moves back to New York. He's tired and lonely but depressed? No. At least, that's what he thinks.
From the window of his apartment, he watches a dark-haired man and his service dog sitting in the park, wondering what his story is.
The Winter Storm | 2218 words | Part 2 of When Winter Comes 🐕
"If I could give you one thing in life, I would give you the ability you see yourself through my eyes, only then would you realize how special you are to me."
After Bucky and Steve confessed their feelings for each other, life has its own twisted way to challenge the most profound love.
One January Night | 4213 words | Part 3 of When Winter Comes 🐕
Before going back to work, Steve Rogers still has things to learn: 1- Depression is a bitch and the battle against it isn't an easy one. 2- Dating a person with disabilities comes with its share of challenges.
Bucky Barnes Has His Shit Together (And Other Lies He Tells Himself) | 14159 words 🔒
You’d think a guy who owns one of the most successful bakeries in Brooklyn, has a million-dollar smile and that antiquated good ol’ boy charm, blond hair and blue eyes and biceps for days, would know what’s what.
But don’t let that fool you: Steve Rogers is a mess.
Obvious | 917 words ☕
"Oh, I have a prompt! So, it makes me laugh how painfully obvious Steve and Bucky's feelings are to everyone when they're in that pining, slowburn, does-he-doesn't-he phase. But imagine Steve and Bucky working in a coffee shop together and constantly bickering, nudging and playfully flirting with each other. And all the employees and patrons are so invested in their relationship and just want them to kiss already but no one realizes that Steve and Bucky have been married since they got out of HS."
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No Strings Attached - Pt.1
Y/N vs. The Mutual Crash
Type: Modern-college-professor AU x CHUCK, part of Attached series
More info here and on the Attached masterlist
Pairing: professor!Steve Rogers x reader Word count: 2900
Summary for the series:
When you literally run into a cute guy named Chuck in school hallway, you soon learn there is much more to him than meets the eye. Unfortunately for you, you learn the hard way.
What’s worse, the encounter sets events in motion you couldn’t imagine in your wildest dreams – and it make you question everything you know.
Warnings: for this chapter - tiny bit of 18+ nsfw smut in the beginning though it’s barely there, swearing, mention of a migraine... that’s it?
A/N: Just so I don’t spook you, we’ll start off easy… with a 2,9k chapter… enjoy and thank you if you’re giving this crossover a chance. You don’t need any knowledge of Chuck, not realy.
Attached & No Strings Attached masterlist
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Almost as soon as you woke up, there was a feeling in your gut; today was going to be strange. Strange in a way that you might not be entirely able to put a finger on, nothing all that special happening, but even though it was only half past six, you knew it was going to be one of those days.
Maybe it was the fact that you cautiously dropped a forehead kiss on Steve’s still sleeping form only to find out he was very much awake. His arms swiftly took a hold of your waist and pulled you on top of him, drawing a startled yelp from your lips, which he quickly silenced by a passionate good-morning kiss.
Maybe it was the fact that you nearly ended up being late.
You were not the only one waking up with a peculiar mood. After Steve’s kiss stole all air from your lungs, he was rolling the pair of you over, trapping you against the mattress, arousal evident, hands wandering and sneaking under your sleepshirt, trailing higher and higher until they reached one of his favourite playgrounds. The rest was history; it was quick and little sloppy but undeniably lustful. Still, it led to mutual satisfaction and to not having even remotely enough time to get ready for the day.
Maybe it was the e-mail Bucky sent yesterday at almost 10 p.m. informing his students that there would be a last-minute change of classroom, because special guests were coming to give a lecture. A lecture that started at 8 a.m.. You hated early morning classes; the only thing making them bearable was Bucky, because he was a damn good and funny professor.
God knew if the guests were about to be a blessing or a punishment. Either way, you had a hunch today was going to turn out kinda weird.
And you only had that confirmed as you rushed through the corridors, the home-made coffee in your opened thermo cup in hand—and suddenly it was gone.
Because you crashed into someone. Well, someone crashed into you. It was a mutual crash.
Point being – a hiss of pain escaped your lips, cup slipping from your fingers as the last remnants of coffee stained it, hands thrown in the air—only to slap the person’s shoulder in the process, because they happened to be in the way.
“Dammit!” you cursed, shaking your hand to distract yourself form the mild burn.
You eyed the puddle of brown liquid at your feet before your gaze moved up, noticing a few droplets on your jeans, and finally you fixed your gaze on your crashmate.
A relatively tall brunet stared at you, dark eyes wide, an apologetic expression on his face.
“I’m sorry!” you both blurted out at the same time.
Short awkward silence followed as you just kept staring at each other, unable to utter a word. And then you chuckled at the absurdity.
You noticed the guy’s lips curling up in a brief smile as you shook your head and went to find tissues in your backpack.
It wasn’t funny – more like annoying, actually. But you did find it funny. Maybe it was because you had a perfectly steamy morning quickie with your fiancé, making you giddy. Maybe it was because this guy, dressed in a grey shirt and black dress pants was kinda cute, the dark curls of his hair causing him to look rather endearing and charming at the same time and—he was smiling too. There was an air around him; a very friendly air.
“Oh, no, let me help!” he rushed to crouch by the offending puddle before you could even open your backpack and you swiftly lowered yourself too.
“It’s no problem, the cup was pretty much empty, luckily…” you mumbled, shooting him a forgiving smile. He met your eyes, one corner of his lips rising higher.
Oh no. He really was cute.
Now, after the mess with Daniel, you were wary of cute guys, even if it came to innocent flirting. But this one, your crashmate… well. There was something about him screaming ‘trust me’; with Daniel, when you looked back at your first encounter, everything screamed ‘smug jerk’.
The brunet reached for the pack of paper tissues you were holding and so you shrugged, handing him some. If he wanted to help, who were you to stop him? It was both yours and his fault.
“Well, I’m glad it wasn’t full and I didn’t go all Hugh Grant on you,” he uttered as you both worked.
You stared at his Converses for a full second and then it hit you, drawing a surprised laughed from you.
“Was that a Nothing Hill reference? Am I Julia Roberts in this scenario?”
He smiled unsurely at you, seeming rather embarrassed – but seeing your expression, he relaxed. “Yeah, but luckily, you’re not, because the cup was almost empty. Still sorry about the coffee though.”
Picking up the soaked tissues, you went to find the nearest trash can.
“Well, if I-“ didn’t let my fiancé fuck me raw when I was supposed to be getting ready for the day- “-was watching where I was going, this wouldn’t have happened, so we’re good,” you assured him.
“Are you sure that I shouldn’t, eh,” he pointed somewhere behind him vaguely in a sweeping gesture, smile a smidge shy, ”run to the cafeteria or something to buy you a fresh cup?”
Alert! A guy’s asking you out!
And alert it was; after the fiasco with Daniel, you made it a point to cut things off before they could develop into a sticky situation.
“Oh! That’s really nice of you…?”
You didn’t remember seeing him around before. New student? An exchange student? Because it always went so well with those…
“Right, Chuck. Nice to meet you,” you quickly uttered, introducing yourself as well. “But I don’t really--- I, eh-“
You gave up and just awkwardly showed off your left hand. The beautiful ring that once belonged to Steve’s mother – and goddammit, wasn’t it still making you feel all soft and fuzzy – sitting on your ring finger.
Chuck’s gaze zeroed on the jewellery for a moment and then it seemed that something clicked in his brain. He swiftly raised his hands in a no harm gesture, brief panic crossing over his face.
”Oh no! That’s not what I meant, though--- congratulations, but I really didn’t mean to ask you out or something-“ he babbled, hands clenching and unclenching, toying with the belt-loops of his pants the next moment.
You felt your cheeks heat up. Was he trying to cover for the fact that he was embarrassed for wanting to ask you out or had you totally misjudged this situation?
“-though this totally was a meet-cute if I’ve ever seen one and it’s not that you’re not good-looking, I mean attractive and beautiful, because of course you are-“
Oh god, he wasn’t cute.
He was an adorable disaster! You didn’t even care what the truth was at this point.
“-but obviously you’re engaged and I really wasn’t making a move or anything—and I’m gonna have to stop talking right now,” he finished breathlessly, closing his eyes with a self-depreciating smile, his chest rising and falling as he was trying to calm down.
Your cheeks burned from smiling so wide, a cackle fighting its way past your lips. Even if you didn’t want to laugh at him.
“Okay, Chuck. I think I get what you’re saying,” you assured him and because he was clearly adorable, he warily cracked one eye open as if to check if the embarrassing situation you two found yourself in went away. When he noticed your smile, his tense shoulders relaxed, both eyes opening.
“I’m glad. I’m sorry for embarrassing us both. I might as well be that guy from Nothing Hill…”
You laughed – like honestly, nearly having to clutch your belly, laughed. You couldn’t help it.
“Well, you’re charming enough. But I’m afraid I’m no movie star in hiding.”
“You’re cute enough to be one, no discussion here,” he said, his twinkling eyes gave your face a very quick once-over. Somehow, you found his compliment both funny and flattering. A lopsided grin appeared on his face, twisting into a grimace as he hesitantly raised his finger. “But, if we’re talking meet-cutes, I’m afraid I’m more of a Richard Gere here… I got a little bit lost. Point me the right direction, please?”
Whoa, he was stepping up, talking Pretty Woman now. You really liked that dorky comment though.
“Where you headin’?”
You blinked in surprise, wondering if you heard wrong. Because that was where you were heading.
“Oh? Interesting…” you muttered, earning a curious head tilt from him. Glancing again at your jeans, you grimaced. Those stains had to go… guess direction would have to do. “Yeah, that one is a little tricky… and dumb. You have to go through 2.33. Not that there’s any badge on the door on anything.”
He gasped theatrically. “Tricky!”
“I know! It’s a test of our interhuman skills; can’t really finding without asking someone first. I’ll see you there, I suppose, gotta clean up the cup and… well, me.”
“I’m sorry, again. And thank you,” Chuck said politely, sending you a final smile.
“You’re welcome, Chuck.”
Here’s a thing about hunches: sometimes, they come true.
Being run down in a hallway was nothing too weird, oh no. Not even when a funny charming guy was involved.
Things only got weird when you entered the lecture hall and finally realized why was Chuck heading to the same room as you did. He stood next to Bucky at the professor’s stand, quietly talking to a stunning blond woman in a dress suit and glasses.
Feeling blood rushing to your head, setting your cheeks aflame in embarrassment, you went to find a seat, noticing everyone was sitting with a space of at least three seats between them and never behind. As if you were about to write an extremely important test. Great.
Could this day get any better?
Two taps sounded through the room as Bucky tried the microphone.
“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. Well, good for some of us, at least,” Bucky stated, unmistakably finding you in the crowd as if he knew exactly how your morning went – at least the part before you left the apartment. You wanted to sink through the floor – and wasn’t that a familiar feeling under Bucky’s knowing gaze. “Find your seats, please, so we can start. We have some special guests from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs today with us to present you a special program you can apply to, so… you know. Pay attention. They’ll tell you the rest.”
Oh, so you had run into a guy from Ministry of Foreign Affairs. Spectacular.
To be fair, he had been a dork. How were you supposed to tell he was important?! He was still pretty cute standing there.
Also: the blonde by his side? Yeah. You understood now why he reacted the way he did earlier. Because if he knew a woman like that, the idea he was trying to ask you out – or anyone, really – was laughable. Hell, you’d ask her out.
“Morning, my name is Charles Carmichael and this is my colleague, Sarah Walker,” Chuck started off pleasantly, if little nervous from having all eyes on him.
“Like your professor said, we’re here to present you… with an opportunity to get a training for special analyst in one of departments. And before you ask why we’re ambushing a history class when we’re looking to fill an analyst vacancy…”
Several people laughed and you did too – he sounded like the guy from the hallway, only a bit more presentable.
“-it’s because we really talk about this with pretty much every student on this university, so you can see we have a lot of presentations still ahead. Anyway, I’m gonna talk a bit about the program and about our ministry in general, so… yeah. Please listen carefully and watch carefully too. Spoiler: it’s important. Thanks.”
The lights dimmed and he started the presentation, slowly pulling you in and making you forget the incident in the hallway.
And despite his charming ways… the presentation was rather strange too.
It was just one of those strange days.
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You didn’t think there would be anything to add insult to the injury, to turn into the so-called cherry on top.
You were wrong.
Chuck, or Charles Carmichael, was an alright presenter. He remained a dorky character, only enough to hold all of the students’ attention, that was quite okay. It was the pictures that appeared in between those images that felt perfectly in place, that were… just weird. Like… a rose. A beach. New York skyline. Pictures that were not at all related to what he was talking about. He always played it off as a joke – supposedly placing them there to keep you on your toes – but there was something that just felt… off.
And during what you later found out was like the last third of the presentation, you felt a headache starting to build. Not a terribly intense one, but strong enough to be fairly annoying and insistent on bugging you, just above your eyebrows. You couldn’t remember your head ever hurting in such way.
Then things got worse; you indeed got a test to complete. The nice people from Ministry of Foreign Affairs told you not to worry about getting it wrong affecting your marks in your course, obviously, so you didn’t, not really.
But it was hard to ignore that it was the weirdest fucking test you had ever seen.
In each task, pick five of ten words you associate with the word in question, read the instructions. Which on its own could be considered strange, but… it was the supposedly associated words that truly confused the heck out of you.
For ‘rose’ there were clear answers like ‘thorn’ and ‘flower’. The rest of the offered words? Non-sense. Like—utter nonsense. Bulldog, Victoria, Sao Paolo, camp, mirror, Tower Bridge, eagle, heroin. You stared at the words, reading them over and over, the pressure in your forehead growing more vexing by the minute.
For some inexplicable reason, your mind kept on gravitating towards the Sao Paolo, eagle and heroin; surprisingly vivid images of each flashing behind your eyelids as you closed them to relieve the headache. The light was starting to hurt your eyes despite being rather low. It was irritating.
Deciding the stupid test didn’t matter, you went with the first thing that came to your mind for each question, finishing among the firsts. It was rather relieving to see everyone’s face as confused as you imagined your looked.
Leaving the class, you spared Chuck one last glance, finding him staring at you with eyebrows furrowed; brief glance at Bucky told you why, for he wore the very same expression. It seemed that you weren’t very good at masking your suffering. You attempted a lame smile, knowing that you were about to ditch the class that followed.
Catching up with Linda, one of the girls who were with you in Callahan’s class, you begged her to give him your apology; the headache was turning into a splitting damn migraine.
Linda shot you a compassionate smile and assured you she would vouch for you looking absolutely terrible and having no other option than leaving.
“Thanks,” you chuckled weakly, nails digging into your palms as a mild case of vertigo threatened to throw you completely off balance.
“Hey, do you want me to call someone? Take you to the infirmary?” Linda worried, sporting a textbook example of having concern written all over her face. “Not joking, you do look like you’re gonna pass out. Rogers’ gonna be out for blood if he finds out I talked to you and let you wander off in this state.”
The image of Steve stalking down the hallway with an exasperated expression on his face searching for your classmate seemed rather amusing; but that was unlikely to happen.
“Nah, he should be all sunshine. Lots of endorphins released this morning,” you mumbled, absently rubbing at your forehead.
You only realized what you said when a dramatic silence followed, soon broken by Linda’s snort of laughter. The shock of you blatantly revealing something like that in your compromised state helped you to focus a bit more, bringing some clarity to your vision.
“I so didn’t need to know that. Good thing I have Callahan now and not him, I wouldn’t be able to look him in the eye. I’d be imagining him shirtless with a perfect case of bed hair. Gosh, you’re such a lucky bitch.”
“Don’t I know it,” you offered with another weak smile.
“I’m sure you do,” she hummed, lightly patting your shoulder. “Now you get home safe and get some rest.”
“Thank you, Linda. Really.” She only shrugged it off as if it was nothing. The friendly display brought an honest smile to your face and caused you to perk up enough to joke. “Oh, and Steve usually sleeps in a t-shirt, sorry to break it to you. But his bed hair is dreamy.”
“…I hate you.”
“No, you don’t.”
She would have if you added that the rumour about Professor Rogers being true. That he was indeed packing.
With a smirk at that thought alternating with a grimace whenever a sharp pain hit the back of your head, you headed home.
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Thank you for reading :-*
In case you missed one of my way too many announcements, in Chuck, every episode was named Chuck vs. Something. I decided to keep the theme and go against my usual not-so-frequent use of Y/N in my stories.
P.S. – if any of this felt familiar to Chuck fans, know, some of the plot is a big nod to episode 1x07 Chuck vs. the Alma Mater. It’s one of my faves for many reasons – the plot, hilarious lines, the LOTR references…
Honestly, they had me at this scene (0:05 – 0:25 though you can watch the full 2 min, obviously)
Anika Ann out
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Those Who Fall: "APTF" Story (Modern Domestic Stucky AU)
The dark and quiet was a breeding ground for Steve's anxieties. As the alcohol wore off, his mind started running through all the What Ifs. Even weighed down by Bucky's strong arm and with the brunet's snores coming behind him, Steve couldn't help it. His mind just wouldn't shut off.
What if Brock had been at the party? If he wore a mask, he could blend right in. It was a costume party, after all. Steve tried to think back to if anyone who had been around him and Bucky seemed out of place. But that was the thing; everyone seemed out of place.
What if Brock had seen him and Bucky leave for their room? What if he had followed them? What if he was going to try to convince a maid or something that it was his room and he was able to sneak in? What if --
Laughing broke through Steve's thoughts but only amped up his paranoia. He tensed in Bucky's arms and glanced around the dark room. Afraid that he would find a dark figure waiting for him. Luckily, he and Bucky were alone in their room and the people in the hallway were getting harder to hear the further they got.
Then, a worse stream of thought came to him.
What if Brock had waited for him in the school parking lot? What if Brock had followed him? What if Brock had found out where he lived? Lived with his children. What if Brock had arrived at their house? What if Brock scared his mother? Scared his children?
A bad feeling settled in the pit of his stomach as he wondered how the kids were. Hoping that they were okay. Hoping that some twisted bastard hadn't terrorized them. Hoping that Sophia and Ethan hadn't woken up from a nightmare only to realize that he and Bucky weren't there.
Wiggling out of Bucky's embrace, Steve made his way over to the dresser where their overnight bag was and promptly got dressed in a pair of jogger sweatpants and one of Bucky's cozy #1 Dad sweatshirts.
As Steve finished dressing, Bucky rasped, "Stevie?"
Shoving on his sneakers, Steve assured, "It's alright, go back to sleep."
"Where're ya goin'?" Bucky asked, flipping on the table lamp.
Both squinting from the sudden light, Steve worried his bottom lip as he tried to think about how to phrase his current paranoia. So, he decided on, "I wanna go home."
Bucky's brows furrowed but he still climbed from the bed. Not arguing or questioning, Bucky got dressed and assured, "I'll call an Uber."
"Thank you," Steve melted, standing on his tiptoes to kiss Bucky. He was lucky to have a loving husband who would be willing to leave a fancy hotel at two in the morning for no other reason than Steve wanting to leave.
Entering the bathroom, Steve took care of his business. He could hear Bucky on the phone and Steve tried not to break down. He needed to hold it together. For just a little while longer, at least. Once he saw that the kids were fine and that Brock wasn't there and that Brock hadn't been there at all, he could cry himself to sleep in Bucky's arms. And only then would Steve tell Bucky about his icky feeling and how afraid he still was.
With everything packed into their bag and both of them dressed, Bucky led the way out of the room. Slinging the bag over his broad shoulder, Bucky held his hand out for Steve to take. Lacing their fingers together once he did as they entered the elevator.
"Hey," Bucky shook their hands to gain Steve's attention. Once he had it, he tried to comfort, "It's okay."
Dropping his gaze, Steve shrugged and trailed off, "I just…"
When it was clear that Steve wasn't going to finish his thought, Bucky tried to lighten the mood, "You know how I hate sleeping on hotel beds. Too soft. Like a marshmallow."
"Whatever," Steve good-humoredly scoffed. Teasing, "You were sleeping like the dead."
"Only because I was with you, and I always sleep better next to you," Bucky tugged Steve closer and kissed his temple. Dropping his hand, Bucky wrapped his arm around Steve's shoulders and said, "Whatever's bothering you, it's gonna be okay."
"I just --" Steve cut himself off as the emotion and fear threatened to choke him "-- I just need to see it. Believe it."
Bucky pressed another kiss to Steve's temple; not knowing what else to do to comfort him. Steve wasn't sure what else he could do either. But being close to Bucky helped. So, Steve stayed close as he climbed into the back of the Uber and Bucky climbed in after him. Instantly taking Steve's hand in his and lacing their fingers together.
Monster Mash played on the radio and Steve focused on his breathing. Schooling his fear and keeping his tears at bay. All he could do was hold Bucky's hand. All he wanted to do was hold Bucky's hand. And he was lucky enough to have a husband who didn't mind.
When they finally reached their house, Bucky thanked the driver and climbed out from the backseat. Holding his hand out for Steve and helping the petite man out. Once they were free and clear, the driver left and Steve started up the front steps.
The ceramic planters were broken and the jack-o-lanterns had been smashed. In disappointment at the destruction, Steve sighed, "Casualty of teens on Halloween."
Bucky exhaled the way he did before having to discipline their kids, then yawned. Holding the keys, he gestured for the door and said, "We can worry about it tomorrow."
Nodding, Steve didn't dilly-dally as he followed Bucky up to the door. However, the door wasn't shut. Steve's heart stuttered as he grabbed onto Bucky's arm. Regaining the tired man's attention, Steve gave the broken-open door a pointed look, "Something's wrong."
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I just wanna hear more about Serial Killer Bucky (maybe a returning vet? All those anger issues)
What if this Bucky is like a sniper-type killer? Vet!Bucky in my mind is still a sniper, but let’s say he gets a taste for killing in combat and has all this pent-up rage and anger with the system when he gets back. So he starts taking out public officials. It puts all of the city into lockdown, and to get suspicion off of him, he lets himself get captured, only to have you the reader, pull the trigger on a different politician.
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In This Life and the Next
Chapter 2: May it not Become the Evil Eye
Summary: They remember, but you forget. You can run from the ties that bind, but it’ll be right into their arms.
Chapter Summary: Face it. It is raw and broken and it is calling.
Pairings: Reader x Helmut Zemo & Steve Rogers & Bucky Barnes
Reader is Desi and Muslim Coded on Occasion
Warnings: DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT; Rape/Non-Con Elements; Deeply, Deeply Dark; Character Death Involved; Dubious Consent; Dark!Steve; Dark!Bucky; Dark!Zemo; Political/Mafia Elements; Obsessive/Manipulative Lovers; Workplace Sexual Harassment/Assault; Political Corruption; Pleasepleaseplease read at your own discretion
Chapter Warnings: Minor Dub-con/Non-con, Threats, Mention of wings being clipped
Notes: Chapter 2! Finally, I post a second chapter. In which Steve makes a promise and an ultimatum.
A cage of gold is still a cage.
You are joy.
You are joy, flowing through the rivers of his memory, a flurry of silks and color, a birdsong of ringing bells, ready to take flight. Oh little dove, will you not raise your wings to the sky and let the aria of your laugh reach the ears of your beloveds? Can you not see, little bird, that you are precious, that you are delicate, that you must be protected?
Don’t you understand, sweetling, don’t you see?
(You can never fly away from me.)
Your dreams are different now.
You knew they would be. You almost miss the nightmares.
Your hands ache with the longing of memory when you wake now, fingertips recalling the softness of kisses and the scrabbling of brick, crumpled memories tossed around your subconscious and struggling to be put together. Like glass case upon unyielding stone, the dust of time has dulled the pieces and nothing fits together anymore.
Nothing, that is, but the red ring on your finger, calling you to follow the strings and seek completion.
Why do you shy away? What are you afraid of in the cold-dark of the unknown? Is it the bright steel of their eyes, the slyness of the Baron’s smile and the sharpness of his guards’ scowls? How did your bond diverge this way and what will you do about it?
Do they know?
Of course they do, they have to know, they have to have felt the burn on their hands, dragging them back, coaxing them to turn and acknowledge that which the universe was begging them to do.
But they didn’t. And, in their defense: neither did you.
So where do you go from here?
Back to work, technically, staying hunched over your paperwork for an indeterminate amount of hours. You ought to go get lunch, escape while the Senator is busy arguing the budget in a committee meeting. Get fresh air and rid yourself of the miasma of his gaze, if for a little bit. But you’re busy. Busy and therefore perfectly willing to forgo — Excuse me, Miss…
You’re too proud to admit that the yelp pouring from your lips actually belongs to you, but it does and when you turn to face the reason for your racing heartbeat, you can see the bemused quirk of his lips as he looks at you and knows.
Sorry, did I scare you? He speaks with a voice like rasping silk, steady and quiet but used to being heard and listened to. By you, especially.
You don’t know why you know that.
Yes you do.
It’s fine. Good girl, wave it away and pretend you aren’t panicking. Smile. Fake it. How can I help you? You’re from Baron Zemo’s office, right? Um… You remember him, the one Zemo didn’t name, composed of furrowed brows and soft lips and a beard you were suddenly imagining running your fingers through and snap out of it, girl!
Yeah. Captain Steve Rogers — I’m chief of his security team.Oh. That makes some sense, but now you’re wondering what the Hell he’s doing here, standing in front of you. The Senator around?
Oh. No, he’s in a Committee meeting, but I can ca — he cuts you off by stepping closer to you, eyes fixed onto you.
Eyes fixed onto your hand.
No. It’s you I want.
You knew this conversation was coming, didn’t you? You knew someone would come, and now here he is, daring you to ask him all the reasons why. Daring you to acknowledge that which you won’t, that which you’ve tried to hide by denying your nature and that… that is the greatest sin of all, little dove.
You’re not stupid, sweetheart, and I know you heard me. Stand up.
Don’t move. You’re not a marionette on strings, are you? So don’t move, don’t do anything but cross your arms over your chest. Don’t acknowledge the coiling heat in your core when that brow of his furrows further, when he looms over you just like that, when his hand shoots out and grabs your wrist before you can react, when he pulls you to your feet whether you want him to or not. Don’t. React.
When I give you an order, sweetheart, you better learn to listen. Low and dark and in your face, right against those surprise-parted lips and shock-widened eyes, filling your vision with the absolute supremacy of his will over yours.
Didn’t run fast enough, rabbit.
He doesn’t give you time to think, time to sharpen your talons and swipe at him, save yourself. He cages you instead, slamming your back against the wall beside your desk, pressing in closer, eyes trained unerringly on yours. The hand on your wrist shifts, sliding up until he’s forced your fingers to lace with his and presses the back of your hand up against the wall, just beside your head. Did you think you got away?
What are you talking about? And let me go!
The chuckle in your ear is low, paying no attention to your free hand pressing against his chest, to the way you try to close your legs and push his thigh between them out. A soft chuff, really, like a lion laughing in the face of prey. We gave you a week, sweetheart. You can’t avoid us forever.
A week since Baron Helmut Zemo and company had walked into your workplace, spoken to your employer, and revealed they were your soulmates, all three connected by a red thread, converging into the ring around your finger. A week.
You had been avoiding them.
You open your mouth to fire something back, maybe something snappy, maybe something cruel, but his free hand has you by the face before you can, squeezing your cheeks with rough fingers while the palm of his hand presses your jaw up and swallows your words. No.
The heat flares again, pulsing over your skin like a wave of fire, settling in your lungs and heaving your chest, demanding more air as you huff through your nose and try to push him away but he is an immovable object and you are not an unstoppable force, girl, you are only a girl in the face of a cold and cruel Adonis and you can never escape.
Don’t make me clip your wings.
It’s for your own good.
I’m done waiting around.
You want to hate him. You want to slam your fists against his chest and scream and draw attention to his crimes but the mouth that slides over yours is warm and familiar and the hand that was once bruising your jaw is now holding you so tenderly you might as well be made of delicate crystal and he is…
Soft, on your lips, the pressure of plush warmth and gentle breath, faint sighs from the both of you melding together a moment before blue eyes meet yours and he rests his forehead to your temple. I’m done waiting around, sweetheart.
It’s not a threat.
It’s a plea, soft and sweet, and don’t you want to give in? Don’t you want to surrender to the warmth of him, the strength of him, don’t you feel saferight here, in his arms? You do. You feel it in your bones that you do.
So why is it that when you open your mouth again, you say I can’t and let his eyes shift from begging-soft to hard as ice?
Why do you always try to fly away?
He strokes your cheek like a regret, wiping away a tear, a streak of blood, a memory of pain, and the second kiss is no longer asking.
The plushness of your mouth is his own playground, teeth tugging at soft lips and soothed with a brush of his tongue, demanding surrender and if you do not give it he will win this war for your affection, do not tempthim… or do. Do tempt, curl your fingers into the harness at his chest, feel the warm expanse of him swell with the longing of unknown lifetimes and fall.
Fall right into him.
Let out that whimper of a moan when his lips travel along your jaw, when he finds the tenderness just below your ear, when he nips at you and threatens to mark you his here and now. But you are his.
Come with me, sweetheart. Rasping and warm and there’s the heat again, snaking through you and pooling slick around your center and here you are, snaking your hand up to his shoulder and around the back of his neck and there go your fingers winding through that soft long hair and That’s it, sweetheart, hold me closer, I’ve got you.
You want to.
Steve, please d — you’re cut off by the sound of his snarl and then the sudden release as he pushes himself off the wall and away from you, leaving you to crumple against that sole solid surface on shaky legs as his thigh leaves the space between yours and you realize just how molten your body had become.
He steadies you by holding your wrist again, making you look at the red ring on your finger, his other hand showing you his, the strings tangled between you both. You can’t keep running from this, sweetheart, and we’re not gonna let you, understand?
The further you run, the tighter we will hold you.
And you. You gape at him with love-swollen lips and slick warmth in your panties and you have the audacity to try to wrench your hand away and snap I’m not running. I’m right here — you leave me alone!
And oh, he looks cut to the quick when you say that, the lust-blown darkness in his eyes fading fast, less angry than hurt and dropping your wrist for you to take back. Slink into your chair, girl, and look at the wounded lion before you.
Look what you’ve done.
Sweetness… he reaches out again, saying your name like an apology, watching you flinch from his fingers and shushing you softly, I’ll give you one more chance to get used to it. You know where to find us. Find me.Don’t make us come after you again, sweetheart, cuz we ain’t gonna be patient long.
And with that, he turns you around and leaves you to face the consequences of your reactions.
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Long short story.
Social media au.
Meet the characters, Instagram profiles 2/2.
Bonus: YN secret acc.
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