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#it was also civil war Bucky like with long hair
sweetsweetnuit · 2 years
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  on his knees
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synopsis: even the king of the underworld has his weaknesses. bucky’s just happens to be a mortal woman he can’t get enough of.
pairing: bucky barnes (hades/devil) x f!reader
word count: 2.7k
warnings: 18+ ONLY. breaking & entering, ig technically monsterfucking, devil/mortal dynamics a la hades/persephone, dirty talk, teasing, oral (receiving), bucky breaks the wall, pet-names, bucky on his knees for the reader/begging, size kink bc bucky is 6’6 here in my mind, fingering, unprotected sex, power imbalance, possessiveness, this bucky also wears rings and chains and had civil war era hair, idk what else but lmk if i missed anything!!
notes: i wrote this for me, myself, and i <3
The floorboards groaned under your feet as you crept further into your small, New York City apartment. Every creak echoed in your mind, reminding you that he could appear at any moment. That he knew you were home and thinking of him. 
The day weighed heavily on your shoulders, slumped and hunched as you made your way into the tiny kitchen to grab yourself a glass of water. Your muscles ached and begged for some sort of release, but the only release you wanted was his. 
His face was plastered over every news outlet for the past two years, cautioning anyone who may stumble into his path or fall to their knees in front of him in hopes he shows mercy. 
He never does. 
The shower springs to life, spurts of water being the only thing you can hear as you slowly strip your clothes. They fall to the floor unceremoniously where they’ll stay until you find the energy to shove them deep into your hamper. Where you’ll also put off laundry until you run out of clean underwear. 
It’s a dangerous, vicious cycle. 
Everything melts away as you step under the too-hot stream of water. The day runs through your head, along with the too-long list of things you need to do. The bills you need to pay and the commitments you made when you were in a much better mood now plague you. 
“Shit,” you curse under your breath when the stream starts to turn lukewarm. 
You have only a few minutes before it’s ice-cold, spending too much time just standing under the water sulking. A quick lather is all you get before you’re pulling over a large sweater and thick socks. The fabric is long enough to forgo shorts or any type of pants. 
The low hum of traffic on the street fills the living room before you’re on the couch with the TV playing in the background. What you’re really focused on is your phone. No one can stop talking about him, you can’t stop thinking of him. 
It’s driving you mad, keeping him a secret when his face is plastered on every fucking tabloid. Though, you really hope he can’t read minds because you’re sure he wouldn’t be too happy with the thoughts running through yours right now. 
Your nights have been the same. A boring, mundane routine that makes you want to put your head through a wall. But you made a deal. You made a deal with him and whether you like it or not, you’re bound to him. 
Those are the last words that float in your head before you’re drifting off to sleep, entirely unaware of what was about to happen next. 
You groan when you awake, eyelids heavy with sleep as you rub them, adjusting your position only to realize you have a kink in your neck. You’re confused at first, wondering why you’re not in your bed when your eyes flicker to the TV that’s still playing a random episode of something. 
It all clicks as you drag yourself into a sitting position, eyes still adjusting to the darkness after you’ve turned the TV off. The air feels colder and suddenly, the hair on the back of your neck raises like an alert. 
“Hello, my Darling.” His voice flows over you, just above a whisper and you gasp when you realize he’s standing right by your window. 
He turns to face you before cocking his head as a smirk grows across his lips. You’re frozen in place, unable to move as your eyes move over his body. He’s dressed like he always is: black dress pants and a black button down. 
Except tonight, he looks only a little less put together. His hair is mused and tucked behind his ears. The sleeves of his shirt are rolled to expose his forearms and the top few buttons are undone, his dark tattoos just barely visible. 
Your heart kicks in your chest, beating erratically. You still can’t seem to find any words as he makes his way over to you. He towers over you, making you feel like a speck before he bends at the waist to cup your cheek. 
“I’ve missed you,” he purrs, thumb brushing over your cheekbone and you can’t help but lean into his touch because fuck, you’ve missed him too. So goddamn much. 
He stays like that before his thumb moves to your lower lip, brushing over it. Your eyes are locked on his, afraid that if you look away, he’ll disappear like a figment of your imagination. Perhaps you’re still dreaming. 
When he pulls away, it feels like he’s taken a piece of you. You crave him, need to be near him, want his touch. He exudes confidence, watching you with a curious gaze. 
“What’s wrong, Darling?” He asks, though not concerned. He’s amused by your lack of anything. 
You shake your head, quickly standing up and reaching out for him, “I just, I didn’t think you were really here.” 
He smiles, tugging you into his body by your waist until you’re flush with him. He smells exactly the same, a rich woodsy, earthy scent as you smooth your hands over his chest. You know that the man who’s got you in his arms is dangerous, beyond that, even, but you can’t seem to care. 
They always warned you not to make deals with the devil, but they never warned you about how handsome he’d be. 
“I can’t stay away from my girl for long,” he hums. “Not when you’re bound to me.” 
That’s when it hits you, that you’re not only bound to him in this lifetime, but in all others. That no matter what, you’re his and only his. You may not have picked him, but he picked you and that was enough. 
“Did you break into my apartment?” You blurt suddenly, watching the smile erupt on his face along with the sound of his deep laughter. 
“Of course I did.” He replies casually, “What did you expect from the King of the Underworld? Or the Devil as you call it.” 
Something in your chest flutters at the sound of the word, how macabre it really is to be in the arms of the Devil. Yet, in some fucked up way, it excites you. It makes you feel like you’re stuck in an endless loop of mundanity. 
He’s still got you in his arms, fingers running up and down your back as you feel the distinct and heavy weight of the prosthetic one. It sends a chill down your spine and sometimes you wonder if he does that on purpose. 
“Now,” he leans down closer to you. “Are you going to tell me that you’ve missed me too or are you just going to assume I know because of how wet you are already?”
You inhale sharply at his words, curling your toes into the hardwood floors as you tuck your bottom lip between your teeth. His dark eyes don’t waver, steady and trained on you and it makes you squirm. 
“I’ve missed you too,” you whisper, barely audible but you know he’s heard you loud and clear. 
He chuckles deeply, his chest vibrating against your own. In an instant, he’s maneuvered you both so he’s on the couch and you’re perched nicely on his lap. 
“I figured as much, I could smell you from across town, Darling.” He rasps, cupping your jaw once again to hold you close to him. 
It’s these moments that you crave and dream about. Constantly wishing it could be the two of you forever. It’s the silly little fantasy that keeps you going, knowing that he needs you just as bad as you need him. 
“Do you remember last time?” He muses, pulling you closer so your core is nestled right above his. You simply nod your head, too aware of his growing length as he rocks you over him gently. 
“I couldn’t get enough of you, Darling. You have any idea how sweet you are?” He whispers against your cheek, fingers digging into your hips as you grind over him. 
“I dream about you, about how you say my name when I’m at home between your thighs.” His voice has become deeper, more gravelly as you let your head fall back and mouth open. 
His lips are soft and warm against your neck as he leaves open mouthed kisses on your flesh. He’s just as addicting as you remember, and his words leave you dizzy for me. 
“Say my name for me, Darling. Or do you want me to get on my knees and beg you?” He asks and you a moan escapes you. 
Your eyes meet his, dark and hungry, but playful. 
“Beg.” 
He licks his lips as you nod and say again. 
“I want to hear you beg.” 
You’re not sure what’s going to come of this, you’re almost certain you’ll regret it, but right now, you don’t fucking care. The mere idea of seeing him on his knees for you is driving you wild and the throbbing between your legs needs to be dealt with. 
“My girl wants to hear me beg, huh?” He smirks, his sharp canines shining under the moonlight. 
You can only nod your head again, fisting the collar of his shirt before you’re moving with him. Your back hits the cool wall, both of his palms flat against the wall on either side of your head. 
He’s so much taller than you that you have to crane your head upwards just to meet his eyes. He’s menacing, truly evil and yet, you’ve asked him to beg for you. Maybe you’re just as evil, maybe he’s influenced you enough. 
You watch him drop to his knees in slow motion, the floorboards creaking under his weight. You immediately steady yourself on his broad shoulders as he inches your sweater up to expose your stomach. 
“I have never,” he places a kiss to your skin. “In my life,” another hot kiss, “begged for anything.” 
A shudder runs down your body when his fingers trace the outline of your cotton panties, but his words are the true cause of the sensation. To see him on his knees for you is something you’ll never forget. It may be the only thing you’ll ever think about. 
“But for you, my Darling, I’d do just about anything.” He says, hooking his fingers into your panties and pulling them down your legs. 
They’re discarded quickly, your breathing rapid as he hooks a single leg over his shoulder, causing you to sink your nails into the skin of his shoulders. He hisses in pleasure, taking a moment to catch his breath. 
When he looks up at you, his eyes have been entirely consumed by darkness. There is no more light to them and you know there’s no going back. He’s got you pinned against the wall, hot breath against your core as he gives you a sinister smile. 
“My Darling,” he purrs, “I beg you, scream my name so loud everyone knows that you are mine.” 
He doesn’t give you any other warning before his tongue is flat against your pussy. Your head hits the wall so hard you think you’ve dented one or the other, but you don’t care. Not when he’s on his knees eating you out like a God. 
“Oh fuck,” you gasp, grasping onto him even tighter. 
You don’t need to see his face to know he’s smirking, “that’s not what I begged for.” 
Your head is spinning and you feel dizzy already when two thick fingers slip into your entrance, curling so deep inside of you that you lose your breath. His name is on the tip of your tongue, it’s just too bad that he’s stolen your breath. 
“If you want to come, scream my name, Darling.” He says in a tone so soft you could barely tell it was a threat. 
And he’s true to his word, teasing you with slow but meticulous flicks of his tongue in combination with his fingers until you’re on the verge of tears And you think that this must be your purgatory. 
“You can do it, Darling. Say my name and I’ll let you come.” He whispers against your inner thigh, nipping at the sensitive skin. 
“Please,” you’re begging him now, but it doesn’t seem to work. 
A tear slips down your cheek and you’re biting your lip so hard you’ve drawn blood. He’s holding you against the wall with his free arm so squirming is impossible. You’re absolutely stuck.
“Please,” the plea escapes you again. “Please, Bucky.” 
When his name finally leaves your lips, it’s like a bomb goes off. White hot pleasure seeps through every bone in your body and if it wasn’t for Bucky, you’d have collapsed into a pile on the floor. 
He keeps you upright, body pressed firmly against yours as he swallows your cries with his lips against your own. The kiss brings you back to reality, threading your arms around his neck to keep him close. 
“I only ever want to hear my name on your lips, my Darling. No one else’s.” He confesses, breathing just as wildly as you. 
His erection digs against your hip and you’re wild and hungry for him. You’re convinced he can read minds because the next sound you hear is the sound of his belt hitting the floor. 
“Jump,” he commands. 
You do as he catches you, your legs tight around his waist. His eyebrows are furrowed tightly together as he watches you with pure concentration. 
“When I was younger, my mother told me a tale. A tale that I never believed until I met you.” Bucky rasps as your chests meet each others. 
“It was about a fallen angel who fell only to be with a mortal woman. It was said she was so beautiful that he couldn’t stand to be away from her. I always thought it was stupid.” He says with a low growl. 
“Giving up everything for a mortal. I could never understand it.” You feel like your heart is about to burst, Bucky’s dark shadow growing bigger under the moving moon. 
“And then I met you and my world collapsed. I understood the angel then and why he decided to fall. Because if that was the only way I could be with you, well, I’d fall a thousand times, Darling.” 
He fills you in that moment, barely giving you time to adjust. 
“I want to be inside you, filling you up, every goddamn night.” Bucky groans as he fucks you deeply against the wall. 
The wall is shaking, along with all of your decorations with each powerful thrust. You feel secure in his arms, his cock driving against your sweet spot as you tangle your fingers in his hair and tug. 
“I want to be worshipping you every night, Darling. My face between your thighs or buried so deep inside of you that you forget your own fucking name. Whatever you want, I’ll give it to you.” 
Something gives behind your back, but you don’t pay it much attention, too focused on the way Bucky is driving into you like his life depends on it. 
“You’re no longer in my dreams, you haunt me.” He growls before you hear another crack and something splinters. 
And splinters further before you’ve realized that there’s a human sized dent in the wall, that Bucky’s fucked you so hard he’s broken the wall and he’s not stopping until he’s satisfied. 
“I need to feel you squeeze me, baby. Come for me, I’m begging you, put me out of my misery.” Bucky grunts before you’re falling over the edge again, this time, wrapped in him. 
You feel him twitching inside of you, finishing before dropping his forehead onto your shoulder to catch his breath. He looks so human in these moments you wonder if he ever misses it. You hope he doesn’t. 
“We broke the wall. My landlord is going to kill me,” you chuckle breathlessly as Bucky smiles lazily. 
“No he won’t.” Bucky says matter-of-factly as he gently sets you down on your feet. 
You’re wobbly, shaking even, but you manage to find your bearings as you straighten your sweater and let it fall to your thighs, no longer as exposed as you were just seconds ago. Bucky then steps closer, arm around your waist as he tilts your chin up with a finger.
“Come home, my Darling. Come home to me and let me get on my knees for you whenever you please.” 
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lanabuckybarnes · 11 days
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Fucking you (literally)
18+ Minors DNI
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(I don’t own any of the photos, credits to their original owners)
No thoughts just thinking about the different Bucky’s and the many ways they’d fuck.
Warnings: a few kinks mentioned in there: spanking, face sitting, hair pulling, phone sex, the winter soldier (he��s mean)
If I’ve missed any more warnings let me know
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40s Bucky is service top 98% of the time, he loves seeing you become immersed in pleasure, you’d think it was him feeling the way he touches you whenever you’d looked at his bliss-filled face. He just absolutely wants and needs you to be completely fucked out and slurring your words with how well he’s satisfied you. That other 2% of the time though, he’s a fucking tease. You want a kiss, he’s pulling away with a tut, that wide grin getting impossibly wider as you whine to him.
If you’re like that with just a kiss imagine how you’d react if he had you flat on your back, dress and underwear thrown somewhere in the room, at this point you didn’t give a fuck. His lips ghost over your stomach, leaving chaste kisses and hot breaths in their wake. Just when he gets to that spot you so desperately want him, he’s away- your thighs needed more marks he’d say. The way only one of his hands would be able to hold you down while he relentlessly teased you, the other either gripping your breast or holding your hand.
Also, breeding kink??
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The Winter Soldier. I honestly don’t think this man would fuck at all but, in this scenario let’s say he partook in it. He is the only Bucky Barnes that I genuinely think would be fully rough, you need mean? You’ve got it. He doesn’t care about your pleasure, he uses you as a release (consensually of course), pushing your face down into the covers and ploughing you. He’d smack your ass so hard as well and leave you sore for weeks because of them, people would normally ask if you were ok but they hear the way he destroys you, they don’t need an explanation as to why you can’t sit down.
I don’t think he’d be entirely heartless, he’d probably feel quite horrible about the huge red marks blooming on your cheeks but you’d reassure him that you loved it, loved the way he used you.
-
Civil War Bucky needs someone to take the wheel. He’s so used to having someone control him and it’s hard to shake that immediately. He just needs soft words in his ears while you ride him slowly, sometimes he’s just happy to let you sit there with his cock in you. Civil War Bucky is so whiny, I just imagine him constantly with a veiny hand over his mouth to hide his pitiful moans, his deep blue eyes wet with tears, never leaving you as you suck his thick length nice and good.
On some occasions, Civil War Bucky will try to take the lead but more often than not he’ll flunk out halfway through, flip you over so you’re sitting on top of him and beg you to ride his face until you make a mess of him. Lives for eating pussy, almost cums in his pants when you pull on his hair.
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I skipped 3 eras because they’re the same as Civil War Bucky but FATWS Bucky is like a mix of them all.
When he’s in a foul mood he either needs you to ruin him or he needs to ruin you.
He likes it when you dress all pretty for him when you put on a nice outfit and some pretty silk undies so he can unwrap you, godddd damn.
Since he’s on missions a lot you came to him with the idea of phone sex, or sending videos and pics of each other. To begin with, he was very apprehensive of the whole idea but one long mission later and his cock was hard and his hand wasn’t cutting it. He’d sigh and pick up the phone, noting the late hour over where you were staying. He knew you probably wouldn’t be awake but his finger had pressed call before he even knew it.
Surprisingly you picked up with a cute lil “hey baby” and a soft smile he could hear in your words. His cheeks were beet red when he began to talk about the whole phone sex thing, you helped calm him down though. Suddenly with your sultry voice in his ear, his thrusts into his hand felt so much better. He came hard that night and after saying his Goodnights to you he took a mental note to do that every mission.
-
I’m ovulating can you tell?
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dem-obscure-imagines · 2 months
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You're So Timeless | Vol. 2
Steve Rogers x Reader
Fandom: MCU
Summary: In 1943, Steve Rogers was visited by his soulmate. He fell hard. Problem is, she was from the future and didn’t stick around for long. Now, in the twenty-first century, he finally found her again, except this version of her hasn’t met him yet and won’t know he’s her soulmate for another year. 
Note: So this is a combination of my other two Steve Rogers soulmate AU fics, but lengthened and fleshed out into a full fic. I was literally possessed to write this. I have no other explanation. I really like how it came out. I gave this one chapter headings (I am also going to post it to Ao3) and yes some are Taylor Swift titles. Sorry about that. It takes place roughly around the time Civil War would, but we have managed to avoid the war this time around. I also moved some other characters up the timeline because I think they’re neat and I said so. Without further ado, please enjoy my new Magnum Opus.
Also Tumblr made me split it into two parts. This is PART 2. Part 1 is linked HERE.
Warnings: Canon-typical violence/injuries, soulmate au, tons of mutual pining, kind of a slowburn but in reverse. Light angst, but a happy ending.
Word Count: 38.7k total (I am not sorry)
Reader Is: Enhanced (forcefields), 24 years old, female 
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The Recovery Period
When you woke up, Steve was there sitting in the infirmary, sleeping. His head was leaning back against the wall, snores deep and quiet. It was dark. You weren’t sure how long it had been. You blinked a few times and took a breath, your chest protesting when you did.
The monitor you were hooked to started beeping loudly and Steve awoke, meeting your eyes. He called for Bruce and stood from his chair, approaching the side of your bed. You reached for his hand and he gave it to you immediately, fingers latching onto yours, as though to prove you were awake, that you were alive.
Bruce arrived and gave you the rundown, the grenade, which you remembered, the fact that you had a cracked rib and quite a bit of bruising, but that you had gotten very lucky otherwise. He prescribed you some pain meds and six weeks of rest with a brace before he’d reevaluate.
And at first, it wasn’t bad. Sam played a lot of Fortnite with you. You were pretty good at it, surprisingly. Tony had a pretty extensive collection of movies and you had every snack you could ever dream of. You got some reading done, you picked up crochet, and everyone spent a lot of time entertaining you.
Bucky introduced himself. Steve had talked about him a bit before you met him, but the man standing in front of you was a lot quieter than you’d expected, more timid. You figured he’d open up more once he was convinced none of you were scared of him. And you weren’t. The dangerous part of him was the Winter Soldier, something Wanda had been working with him to unwind from the depths of his mind.
After a few days, when your pain had toned down a bit, Natasha sat you on a stool in the kitchen and gave your hair a trim, getting rid of the singed ends. Wanda got into the undercover stash in one of the bathrooms and found a few bottles of hair bleach and some blue dye. Steve found the three of you in there with hair shears, and a bowl of mixed blue dye that Wanda was painting onto your freshly bleached ends.
He had no complaints. After all, blue was your color. It was quite a bit shorter, too, but he thought it suited you. He thought everything suited you, to be honest.
You did some online shopping in those first few weeks. Your Avengers allowance was no joke and you had barely touched any of it yet, which meant a new reading chair was well within the budget, a cool round one than you could hang from the ceiling. It was Steve that found you pushing the giant box down the hall when it arrived.
“Hey! Woah, are you supposed to be pushing that?”
You froze, turning to face him. “Maaaaybe.”
“Alright, move.” He chuckled, rolling up his sleeves and taking over, pushing it down the hall to your room. “What is this anyway?”
“New reading chair. It’s really cool, it hangs from the ceiling.”
“And you were going to do that part, too?”
“I was gonna figure it out. Maybe use my powers for that part.”
“Ah, right. Forgot about those.”
“Me too, honestly. Haven’t used them much lately.”
“For good reason.” He straightened out, the box now sitting in the middle of your room. “How are you feeling, better?”
“A lot better. Still a little sore, but my bruises are starting to clear up.” You motioned to the brace you had to wear around your middle. “Might be out of this thing before six weeks if I can help it.”
“Yeah, well, we’ll see what Bruce says.”
“Of course.” You nodded, using a pair of scissors to slice the tape along the top of the box.
Steve opened it up and started taking parts out. You reached for the instructions and sat down next to him on the floor, familiarizing yourself with the process. It didn’t look too difficult and it was only a few pieces of hardware.
“I’m gonna go grab some of Tony’s tools.” He told you, walking towards Tony’s workroom. He returned a few minutes later with a drill and a screwdriver. “Alright, where are we starting?”
“Okay, so we attach the chair part to the support chains, and then those get screwed into the ceiling. Like this.” You showed him the diagram.
“I’m no handyman, but I think we can figure it out.” He grinned, scooting a little closer to you.
“Oh I’m sure we can.”
It didn’t take long. Less than an hour. The two of you talked, joked, laughed. Eventually, you used your powers to hold the thing in place so Steve could screw it into the ceiling. He got off the stepladder and sat in the chair, testing the strength of the chair himself before deciding it was good enough for you. With a smile, he got up and motioned for you to give it a try.
You put the cushions on the chair and sat down, smiling. “I’ve always wanted a chair like this.”
“Well I’m glad I could help that dream come true.” He chuckled. He handed you the book sitting on your desk. “Here, give it a real test.”
“Oh good idea.” You chuckled, positioning the book in your hands, curling your legs into your desired reading position. Yep, it worked. And it was pretty comfortable. “Now all I need is a little lamp over here.”
“Let me know when that comes in.” Steve chuckled, thumbs tucked into his pockets. “I’ll be here.”
Steve watched you with a soft smile, how happy you were. Maybe someday, he would build other things for you, in a house you shared. A nice little place in the suburbs, or on a farm somewhere, like Clint had made for his wife, Laura. He’d build you a million reading chairs. Hell, he’d build you a whole library if it’d put that smile on your face.
“You ever built Legos before?” you asked.
“I don’t even know what those are.”
“Alright, we’ll fix that. There’s a really easy fix to that, actually.” You pulled out your phone, clicked a few links, and then looked back up at him with a smile. “It’s on its way.”
“What’s that look for?”
“You will find out in two to three business days.”
***
By the time your Millennuim Falcon Lego set came in, Steve had been sent on another mission. And while he was gone, the Compound got an unexpected visitor in the form of Scott Lang, who Sam found on the roof and promptly got his ass kicked by while you were sitting at the monitors, one of the only things that you could do with your current injury.
“Don’t tell Steve.”
“Oh I won’t.” You spun out of your office chair, made a portal to the warehouse, and stepped through it, using your augmented goggles to find the guy, trapping him in a tiny forcefield. Sam came into the warehouse shortly after, looking at the bubble you’d made with interest.
“Got him. Ow!” Something nipped at your ankle and you looked down to find hundreds of ants. “Oh FUCK no.” You dropped him and kicked off the ants, making a platform of energy to stand on so they couldn’t crawl on you.
“Hey man, she’s injured!” Sam called into the room, looking around for wherever he had gone.
“Sorry!” The attacker replied.
And that was the last you saw or heard from him until Sam tracked him down, offering him membership on the team, if he so wanted it. Someone who shrunk could be a great asset on the team. Which is why when he told the rest of you about Hope, someone who did the same but with wings, obviously, she was invited, too.
The team was growing, and as it did, the Compound felt less empty, which was nice, especially when the team was split off doing their own things.
Steve came back shortly after, looking tired. It hadn’t been anything too bad, from what you’d heard, but he, Natasha, Clint, and Tony had been gone for a week. Still, the moment he was back, he popped his head into your room.
“Hey.”
“When did you guys get back?” You asked, looking up from your book, curled up in your reading chair.
“Just now. Um, I’m gonna take a shower, and then…Legos?” He asked, eyes earnest. You could tell he had been thinking about it the whole time he’d been gone.
“Oh absolutely. I’ve got ‘em ready to go.”
“Excellent. See you in twenty.” He saluted, walking down the hall to his room. You got the massive box of Legos out of your closet and brought it out to the table in the lounge, waiting patiently for Steve, who got out of the shower not that long after, dressed in sweats and a tank-top, still a bit damp from the water.
“Tadaaaa~” you said, pushing the box across the table. 
His eyes lit up as soon as he realized what it was. “Where did you get this?”
“Amazon.”
“It comes with Han Solo?” Steve asked, looking at the pictures of the minifigures on the box.
“Yeah, of course it does. Comes with Leia, too.” You grinned, opening the box and dealing out instruction manuals, sorting the bags into neat little piles.
“This is great.” He smiled. “Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it.” You shrugged. “I owe you one for building my reading chair. Now pay attention; This little orange thing is a Lego separator. It’ll help if you get them stuck together and can’t get them apart. Oh, and do not step on them. It will hurt so bad.”
He chuckled. “Thanks for the heads-up. So where do we start?”
Catch Me Now
Finally, after what felt like the longest recovery period ever, you were cleared once more for missions and training. However, you didn’t have any at the moment. Missions, that was. You were back to training with the others three times a week. Steve had you back on a workout regimen, but he was treating you different, like at any moment your rib might randomly re-crack.
Wanda and Vision got sent off on a mission with Clint, a recruitment mission. Apparently, there was another archer on his radar. A good one. It was his hope that with another archer on the team, he could take a bit of a step back, still be involved when he was needed, but hopefully, he’d be able to spend some more time with his family.
This meant, however, that you didn’t have anyone to go to the local theater’s Hunger Games marathon with. You asked Natasha first, but she was busy looking through some files, working out the details of the coming missions.
“I think Steve is here today. You could ask him if he wants to go.”
You could, you supposed. You felt a lot closer to him, lately. You had been spending a lot of time with him, between the extra training and the Legos. He had custody of the Millennium Falcon set, but he’d given you the Leia minifigure. She was sitting on your desk in your room.
So, with a shrug, you agreed, walking down the hall to Steve’s room and knocking on the door. He and Bucky were in there, talking hushedly about something, but they quieted at the sound of your knuckles against the wood.
The door opened and Bucky looked down at you, smiling when he realized who it was. “Oh, hey, (Y/N).” He welcomed you in, shooting Steve a look.
“Hey, (Y/N). What’s going on?”
“If you’re busy, I can come back later.”
“Oh, no, we’re just…catching up.” Steve said.
“Gotcha. So um…Wanda was supposed to go to a movie marathon with me at the mall today, but she forgot she had to go on that mission, so I was wondering if you wanted to come with? I already bought the tickets.”
“Oh, sure. What movies?”
“The Hunger Games.”
“Yeah, absolutely.” Steve nodded. “Just let me get changed.”
“You can come too, if you want, Bucky. I’m sure they’re not sold out.”
“Oh, that is alright, (Y/N). Thank you, though. I’ve gotta work myself up to public outings.” He looked between the two of you, a weird sparkle in his eye. “You two have fun.”
“Will do.” Steve replied, chuckling as his friend left.
You left after, getting changed into the outfit you’d picked out. It was pretty simple: a bleach-dyed Hunger Games shirt, some comfy joggers for the long day ahead, and a pair of slip-on shoes. You grabbed your purse and walked back out to the living room, where Steve was waiting, dressed in his civilian disguise, a baseball cap and glasses. No one would ever recognize him in glasses.
“Ready?”
“Ready.” You nodded, plucking your keys off of the hook by the door.
“Oh, I can drive.” Steve offered.
“Okay.” You agreed, putting your keys back.
He picked up his instead, from the hook next to yours. You walked out and got in Steve’s car, hopping in the passenger seat. The mall was about an hour out. Steve took the backroads, the scenic route. But you didn’t have to give him directions. He knew where he was going. After all, it was the same mall where he had met you.
You gazed out the window, watching the trees go by, looking for deer. Steve gazed over at you every so often, thinking about how someday, when you were driving places, he’d be able to reach over and take your hand, bring it to his lips. His heart ached just thinking about it. The next four and a half months couldn’t pass quickly enough.
“So what are these movies about? I keep hearing about them.” He asked, desperate to hear your voice.
“Are you familiar with the dystopian genre?”
“Yeah, kinda. Like weird, bad future kinda stuff.”
“Exactly. So this one is in a world called Panem, which is supposed to be North America hundreds of years from now. There’s twelve districts and a Capitol that rules over them all. Because of a rebellion about seventy-four years earlier, every year, two kids are chosen from each district to battle to the death in an arena.”
“Woah.”
“Yeah it’s kind of a lot. It’s really good, though. Lots of commentary on the United States government. No offense.”
He chuckled. “None taken. The America I stood for back then…I’m learning it was a different America from the one we live in now. But it’s hard to shake a name that’s been stuck with you for the better part of a century.”
“What would you choose?”
“What name?”
“Yeah, if you got to choose again, now, what codename would you choose?”
“Oh, gosh, I don’t know.” He shook his head. “Something cool. I’d need help workshopping. And you? If you got to choose again?”
“I’m good with Waypoint. For a while, at least.” You shrugged. “It’s kinda fitting, all things considered.”
“It is. Suits you.”
“Thanks.” You chuckled. “So how is everything? How is Bucky doing?”
“Good. They’re um, scheduling a day to test out his…what’re they called, his trigger words? To see if Wanda’s tinkering in his head has been working.”
“Oh wow. That sounds like a lot.”
“It is. He’s nervous, but he knows it has to be done.” Steve sighed and gave a shrug. “And whatever happens, he’s got us to catch him, figure out what comes next.”
“Absolutely.” You nodded.
Steve pulled into the mall parking lot, following the signs to find the doors closest to the theater. You handed him his ticket, which was printed on shimmery, gold paper, the Mockingjay symbol stamped on in black ink. You reached into your pocket and handed him a length of string with beads on it.
“I made it for Wanda, so it might not fit.” You warned.
He read the words, spaced between orange and black and gold beads. “District 12?”
“It’ll make more sense in a bit.” You chuckled and held out your wrist, where the matching one was. “Gotta represent.”
“I’ll take your word for it.” He slipped the bracelet on, the beads spaced out and stretched around his wide wrist. “See, fits fine.”
“Uh-huh, sure does.” You laughed. “Look, it fits perfectly. You can almost read it.”
“Just about.” He grinned, reaching for the door handle.
“So, what’s our cover?”
“What?”
“Our cover. We can’t be Avengers here.”
“Right, um…” Steve thought for a moment. “You work at the library. I’m your boyfriend and you dragged me here, but I’m very supportive.”
“The most supportive.” You agreed. “Alright, I’ll play. Let’s go.”
Steve locked up the car, the horn honking as the two of you walked towards the entrance of the mall. You led him upstairs to the movie theater entrance. You checked in with your tickets and the girls at the table gave you your commemorative popcorn tins and cups. Steve went to get the popcorn filled. You stood over by the soda fountains. He returned with a huge grin and a bucket of popcorn.
“Look at this! They’re so big now.”
You laughed. “How big were they before?”
“Little paper bag.” He chuckled and turned towards the Cocacola Freestyle machine, looking at the buttons with wonder. “Alright what is this?”
“The future of beverage technology.” You told him, putting ice in your cup and tapping one of the beverage options, opening up all the extra flavors before choosing yours.
Steve poked the Coke button and read over all the options before settling on Cherry Vanilla Coke. He snapped the lid on and put a straw in it, taking a cursory sip. He smiled. “Takes me back.”
“Got that vintage taste?” You asked.
He nodded. “At the risk of sounding like a commercial, yeah, it does.”
You led Steve to the theater where you’d be spending the entire rest of the day. You walked him through the schedule. First was Hunger Games from noon until 2:22. There’d be a ten minute break, then Catching Fire from 2:32 to 4:58. There was a forty-five minute break for dinner. Then Mockingjay Parts 1 and 2 until just after ten. Every movie, they punched a hole in your ticket, and if you got all four, they were handing out little prizes, supposedly. You weren’t sure what yet, but you were excited to find out.
“Got a long day ahead of us.”
“I better not catch you nodding off.” You teased, kicking back the recliner.
“I don’t snore that loud.” He said, following your lead and pressing the same button to lift his. God, theaters had changed. He set the popcorn tin between the two of you. He couldn’t count on two hands how many pointless dates he’d gone on with Bucky before he met you for the first time, how many pretty dames he’d offered popcorn, only for them to completely blow him off. But when he’d taken you to the movies back then, you’d shared gladly. And today was no different. You scooted closer, your hand brushing his every so often.
The movie started and Steve watched, enamored. It was different than the movies he was used to, sure. Maybe Star Wars had warmed him up, or maybe it was the fact that you were sitting there beside him, but he loved every second.
Between movies, the two of you went back out to the lobby to get your tickets punched for Catching Fire, stretch your legs and get refills. Steve noticed a handout for the flashback movies that were coming up. His eyes landed on the Wizard of Oz and his gaze softened.
“They still show this?” Steve asked, pointing to the poster.
“Yeah, every handful of years. It’s a classic.” You smiled. “I think I was Dorothy for Halloween one year.”
“Would you go see it with me?” He asked.
“Yeah, of course.”
Sure, things were different between you and Steve than he thought it would be. He knew it would be a while before you’d know. You’d told him you’d been friends for about a year before visiting him, but it felt so much longer, living through every day, scared to even take your hand without sending the wrong message.
You saved him the trouble, though, reaching out for his free hand. He took it without hesitation, giving it a squeeze. God, he’d do anything to kiss you, but he knew that would be stepping clear over that line. Holding hands was friendly enough. Hell, you held Wanda’s hand all the time and that didn’t mean anything. He was pretty sure, anyway.
“Where’d you go just now?” You asked, your hand his anchor in the moment, keeping him from drifting back off into the past again.
“Nowhere, I just…this is nice. Thanks for taking me out.”
“Thanks for coming with me.”
You went back into the theater, hand in hand, carrying your refills. This time, you’d gotten a slushee, and he had decided to do the same. You settled back into your seats, assuming your spots with the people you had been sitting near before. If anything, there were even more people in the theater for Catching Fire.
Steve took a sip of the slushee, looking over at you. “It’s cold.”
“Yeah, it’s ice.” You laughed. “Do you like it?”
He scrunched his face. “Ooh, brainfreeze.”
“You’ve gotta go slow.”
“Lesson learned.”
The lights dimmed and you grinned, looking back at the screen, missing the longing look in Steve’s eyes, admiring the way your face was lit by the glow. And in those seats, once again, he was that little guy from Brooklyn, watching a movie with his soulmate.
***
Two and a half hours later, the theater lights went up and you had forty-five minutes to kill until the next one started. You wandered down to the food court to get something to eat. 
“So what did he mean there’s no District 12?” Steve asked when you settled down at one of the tables. Shoppers walked all around, laden with paper bags full of goods. It was a kind of busy day, actually, but it was fine. You liked to peoplewatch.
“When the books came out, I had to wait a whole year to get the answer. I think you can handle the next forty minutes.”
“There are books?”
“I have them. You can borrow them. And they are even better than the movies, if you can believe that.”
“They must be pretty damn good, then.” He chuckled. “You want to shop around a bit? We’ve still got some time.”
“Oh absolutely. There’s a Lego store here.”
Steve grinned. “They have a whole store for those?”
The two of you finished eating, threw out your trash, and then walked down the hallway to the Lego Store. Steve browsed some of the boxes. There were a lot of cool things. Buildings he recognized, landmarks, things from movies he hadn’t gotten to watch yet. There were also flowers. Lots of flowers, and Van Gogh’s Starry Night. He could see himself building any number of them with you.
You were over by the minifigure bags, squishing them to feel which character was inside. Steve chuckled, but didn’t question your process. Instead, he wandered over to a rotating display of minifigure keychains. A few caught his eye, but more than anything, you did. That was, a keychain of you, in your suit, that eight-pointed star on your chest. Right next to it was him, shield and all. He chuckled and then grabbed one of each, heading towards the checkout.
By the time you caught up with him, he had already paid.
“What did you get?” you asked through your giggles.
“It’s a surprise.” He smiled, voice soft, eyes softer.
“Alright. Keep your secrets.” You chuckled.
Steve took your hand, walking back towards the theater. You got one last refill for the last two movies, got your cards punched, and headed back inside to finish off the saga.
***
At the end of the night, all the people who had been there for all four movies got a t-shirt, a Mockingjay pin, and a mini poster. Along with the tin and cups they’d given you, you’d say it was definitely worth the ticket price. You and Steve walked out to the car together and sat in the seats for a while before either of you spoke.
“Thanks for coming today, Steve.”
“Oh, any time, (Y/N). We should do it again sometime.”
“I’ll let you know if I catch wind of a Star Wars marathon.”
He grinned. “Oh please do. I’d love to see those on the big screen.”
He pulled out of the parking spot and drove off the lot. By the time you got back, almost everyone was asleep. Almost. Bucky was on the couch, watching something, volume on low. He looked up when the two of you came in the door.
“Fun time?” He asked.
“Oh, very.” You laughed kicking off your boots and setting them in your slot on the shoe shelf.
Steve plucked your keys off of your hook and, very efficiently, added his top secret Lego purchase to yours, the keychain of himself. 
“Oh my God.” You giggled, looking at it. “This is great.”
“We match.” He said, holding up his own keys, which already had the keychain of you on them.
Your heart just about melted. “We sure do. God, you’re giving my soulmate some awfully big shoes to fill, Steve.”
“Well,” he smiled, and suddenly, he was that little guy from Brooklyn again, at your height, in awe of the woman the universe had plopped directly onto his front porch. “I’m sure he’ll grow into them.”
Mr. Perfectly Fine
You had training early, almost all hands on deck. Tony was on a business trip, Thor was on Asgard. But otherwise, everyone was accounted for. Clint’s new recruit, Kate, seemed nice. She was twenty-three, fresh out of college, and really did have quite a shot. She might shape up to be a pretty good Hawkeye after all.
Scott and Hope were there as well. Hope was extremely skilled. You could tell she’d practiced for a while, knew her suit and the Pym Particles inside and out. And Scott was also there. He was nice, there was no question about that, but you could tell he still had a lot to learn about the crazy world he’d stepped into. Still, it was nice to have them around regardless.
Tony hadn’t officially inducted them to the team, and there had been no party announcing such a thing. You couldn’t help but wonder if he was waiting for someone. One more member, perhaps, before making it official.
You had been in…something of a mood since your little outing with Steve. It had been a blast, sure, but it had also been a reminder: Steve had a soulmate, in the past tense. There was a name on his wrist. And your bare wrist meant that it wasn’t you. You had a soulmate out there somewhere, human or super, whether you wanted them or not.
Steve was perfect for you. But you couldn’t have him.
And god, did it hurt.
You trained hard, hitting the punching bag that occupied what was usually Steve’s corner. He was there a lot, blowing off steam. Now you got it; it felt good to hit something. You spun, kicking the bag.
“You’re unbalanced.” Bucky piped up, walking over.
You looked up at him, watching his movements, but he didn’t mean any harm. Obviously he didn’t. He’d passed his mind-control test with flying colors. He was a free man now, and he was a lot lighter because of it.
“Am I?”
“You’ve gotta shift your weight a little, really plant that other leg.” He instructed, adjusting your body, hands gentle but firm. You could feel Steve’s eyes on you from across the room, but he didn’t come over. “Otherwise they’re gonna push you right over.”
“Well thanks. I appreciate it.” You said, giving the tip a try. “I haven’t done enough hand-to-hand.”
“We’ll get ya there. I’m surprised Steve hasn’t been working on it with you.”
“Yeah, I don’t know. Things have been weird since the Hunger Games.”
“I noticed.” Bucky chuckled. “I’ll talk to him. See what’s going on in that head of his.”
“It’s not his fault. I’ve been the weird one.”
“Oh. Need to talk about it?”
“No, I just…I need to work through some stuff.”
Working through stuff meant that after training, you went straight to your room, closed the door, and started listening to your angst playlist, spread like a starfish across your king-sized mattress. And that was how Nat found you almost an hour later.
“Knock-knock, I’m coming in.” She said, opening the door. “Hey. Why are you listening to Songs for Sad Bitches in here?”
“What? How’d you—?”
“Your playlist name is on the screen out here when you play stuff on the built-in speakers.”
“Embarrassing.”
“Happens to the best of us.” She shrugged, closing the door behind her and sitting on the bed. “So, why are we sad bitches today?”
“I can’t talk about it.”
“You can’t talk about it, or you can’t talk about it here?”
“The second of those options, yeah.”
She dangled your keys from her hand, the little tiny Captain America taunting you. “Thought so. Let’s get out of here. Kate hasn’t been to the mall yet and she needs to buy some more clothes.”
“Alright. I could go for some mall pretzels.”
So, for the second time in a week, you piled into a car and headed off towards the mall. This time, however, you were with your friends, Wanda, Nat, and Kate, not your unattainable work crush.
Wanda loved the mall. Seeing her that happy almost made your heartache go away. The four of you shopped around. You picked out a few new tops, some accessories, a cute bag, and it was a nice distraction until you passed the Lego Store. You got some pretzel bites and hunkered down in the food court with the others.
“Alright. Spill.” Nat urged.
Wanda offered a sad little smile and Kate looked up, waiting to see where this was heading. She was new to the team, which meant she was new to the drama, too.
“I don’t know, just…going out with Steve…”
“What, you don’t like him?” Nat asked, prodding.
“The opposite.”
“Then why are you all torn up about it?”
“Because I can’t have him.” You said, pushing a pretzel bite around in the cup of cheese. “He has a soulmate.”
“Had. In the forties.”
“Right, but…I turn twenty-five in what, like four months now? And then I get whoever and…I need to let him go before I get hurt, but I can’t.” You sighed. “Or before I hurt him, leading him on just to run off into the sunset with someone else…I just feel like shit about the whole situation.”
Natasha sat there with the perfect poker face, giving a sly little smile. “It’s gonna be fine. I promise. And if not, you’ve got us here to catch you.”
“What she said.” Kate agreed.
“It will be fine, (Y/N).” Wanda promised, patting your hand. “My birthday is first. Let me be the stressed one.” She let out an incredulous laugh. “I have a crush on an android.”
“Hey, if any robot has a soul, it’s gotta be Vision.” You said, eyes soft. “Obviously, he doesn’t have a mark, but, if your wrist has his name…”
“That would be enough for both of us.” Wanda agreed, nodding. “It’s weird. I know…I know he’s the one but I still have to wait. I wish if you figured it out early, the universe would just let you have it.”
Natasha looked to the rest of you, soaking in silence for a moment before taking off the cuff she wore around her wrist. “Alright, it’s been a secret long enough.”
“Woah, Nat…” You gave her a moment to back out, but she held up her wrist, letting the rest of you read the name on her wrist. Bucky. Her soulmate was Bucky. It…made a lot of sense, actually. The way he looked at her during training, the way she kept herself so guarded around him. “Does he know?”
“Unclear.” Natasha shrugged. “I, uh…Steve said he wasn’t sure. And Bucky’s memories are a little fuzzy. The Red Room tried to get rid of our marks. Said they made us liabilities. When I got out, they hadn’t found a way to do it yet. It showed up a few years after that.”
“Is that like…still around?” Kate asked. “The Red Room?”
“Unfortunately.”
The word sat on the table for a few long moments before you said, “What if we took it down?”
Something sparked in Natasha’s eyes and she met your gaze. “Elaborate.”
“I’m serious. The four of us,” you thought for a moment and then it clicked, “Hope.”
“Maria.” Natasha said, putting the pieces together herself. “I mean, that’s really all we’d need. Plus a location and a plan.”
“Oh my god, are we going on a mission?” Kate asked, lighting up at the prospect of her very first real mission.
Nat grinned. “Yeah, I think we are.”
I Can See You
Steve caught wind of Operation: Red Room before you’d so much as suited up. Of course he didn’t think it was a good idea. After your accident, he still saw you as fragile. You were fine. Your ribs were fine. They’d healed better than even Bruce had expected them to. Still, that look in his eyes said otherwise.
“I’m just not sure this is something you should be doing on your own.”
“We can’t bring you. We can’t bring Bucky. It’d be handing them two supersoldiers on a silver platter.”
“So you’re just gonna waltz in there instead?”
“Yep.” You replied, lighting a little forcefield around your fist and holding it up as evidence. “I can handle myself, remember?”
His eyes softened. “I know that.”
“Then why are you still fighting me on this? Do you seriously think Natasha would let anything happen to me? Do you think Wanda would?”
“What if they have something that disables your powers? Both of your powers.”
“If they did, they’d have used it already.”
He sighed, muscled arms crossed, pink lips pressed into a pout. “(Y/N)...”
“You’re not talking me out of this.” Not even with those pretty blues, you sneaky bastard. “Besides, it was my idea. I’m not leaving the girls hanging.”
His eyes widened. “It was your idea?”
“Well, it was a group effort, but I’m the one that put it into words, yeah.” You shrugged. “If you didn’t think I could handle being an Avenger, why did you recruit me?”
“I never said that.” His jaw clenched and he shook his head. “I just…I don’t know what I’d do with myself if something happened and I wasn’t there to stop it.”
“Do you trust me?”
“Always.”
“Then trust me to do this.” You told him, resting a hand on his chest. “And trust me to come back to you.”
He met your eyes, melting at your touch before relenting, “Okay. But be careful, alright? Promise me.”
“I promise. I always am. You guys should be here to hold down the fort anyway, in case they retaliate.”
He nodded. “Yeah, alright. I’ll be here.”
You walked down to the locker rooms and suited up, making sure everything was tugged tight, belt equipped with both real guns and stun guns. Natasha had told the rest of you there was brainwashing afoot with the Widows that were still in the Red Room. If you could help it, the goal was to get them out without hurting them. That was where Wanda came in. Her specialty.
You all loaded up into the jet, Maria Hill joining you as your getaway pilot. You hadn’t gotten the chance to work with her yet, so you were excited to. You rehashed the plan on the way. The Red Room was housed in a floating base, which was why it was so untraceable; it was always moving. 
You, Kate, and Wanda were on Widow duty. Wanda would dispel their brainwashing, and you and Kate would deal with the physical cells and deal with any guards standing in your way. Once the brainwashing was handled, Wanda would go with Nat to kill Dreykov himself, the man in charge who had escaped countless assassination attempts. This time, she wasn’t leaving anything to chance. Hope was going to shrink down and destroy the place from the inside, and once everyone was out and safe, Maria would fly you all to safety.
Ideally, anyway.
Steve saw you off, standing in the driveway as you flew off.
“Natasha wasn’t kidding. You’ve got him wrapped around your finger.” Maria chuckled.
“You could say that.”
At the moment, the Red Room was hovering over a suburb in Maine, nearing the Canadian border. Any closer and it would become an international incident. It had to be now. Maria cloaked the jet as it approached, hiding it from onlookers, obviously, but also, hopefully, from the Red Room itself. Though, their sensors were very advanced so there was no way of knowing until you got closer. That put you on edge.
So, instead, you turned to Kate. “First mission today. You ready?”
“Oh hell yeah. I’ve been waiting for this.” Kate nodded. She slung her quiver over her shoulder. “What was yours?”
“The local county fair.” You chuckled. “Though, I guess if you count my first encounter with a bad guy, it was at the mall, guy with a flamethrower and a dream. He is in jail now.”
“That is typically what happens when you dream of arson.” Natasha said, grinning. “Thank you all. For this. For coming.”
“We’ve got you, Nat. They did some pretty awful shit to you. Time to make them pay for it.”
“Speaking of, ready up, ladies. We are two minutes out.”
Power crackled in your fingertips. You were ready to go. Well, as ready as you could be.
Maria pulled up to the docking bay and the five of you got out. Hope lowered her helmet visor, saluted, and then shrunk, flying off into the vents. The other four set off in a linear path, up the winding hallways towards where they kept the Widows.
The hall was bathed in red light, dim. It set you on edge. Natasha led the way, motioning the rest of you on. You noticed as you approached each camera, it flicked off, the heads of them tilting down.
Oh right, Hope. Awesome.
You approached a series of rooms, doors all identical. They slid open when you approached, and sure enough, two dozen women came charging at you all at once, dressed in identical athleisure. Wanda waved her hands, red mist cascading down the hall, their eyes filling. It took a moment, but they all stopped, looking around at each other for some idea of what was going on.
“Natasha?” One of the voices in the crowd said, a blonde girl with wide eyes. “You came?”
Natasha nodded, smiling. “Of course I did.”
“You’re the Avengers.” The girl said, looking at the rest of you. “You’re really here.”
“Some of us. Come on, we’ve got a ship waiting.” You told her.
The girl looked at you and then back at Natasha.
“Go with her.” Natasha instructed. “I’ll be back in like five minutes. Tops.”
“What’s your name?” Kate asked, starting to lead the others back to the ship.
“I’m Yelena. Natasha’s sister.”
As you led them back down the hall, armored guards rounded the corner. You made forcefields at their feet, tripping them up. Kate shot arrows down the barrels of their weapons, causing a few small explosions. The Widows fought with you, taking out anyone that approached. Soon enough, you got to the docking bay, which exploded as soon as you approached.
You put up a shield between the rest of you and the explosion, blocking the girls from the flying debris. Okay, that put a wrench in things a little bit.
“What are we gonna do?” Kate asked, looking to you, the reflection of the flames shimmering against her skin.
“I’ve got an idea.” You said, approaching the opening carefully, wind whipping all around. Maria was still piloting the jet, doing her best to get close to the massive hole.
You made a platform with your power, curving it up at the edges, like a giant spoon. Slowly, you slid it across the gap to the jet. Maria got the hint, turning it around and opening the ramp. You made another platform and two of the Widows hopped in without hesitation. Slowly, you started the process of feeding them all across, two by two until everyone was in the jet. Everyone except you.
“Hey.” Hope said, landing and returning to full size, out of breath. “What did I miss?”
“Not too much.”
“Want a lift?”
“Why not?” You shrugged. Hope took your hand, flying you across the gap and into the ship. That just left Wanda and Nat unaccounted for.
You watched anxiously, waiting, waiting, waiting. Nothing.
“Hope, how long before this thing blows?”
“A few minutes.”
“Fuck.” You shook your head. You pressed a finger to your earpiece. “Nat, Wanda, do you copy?”
Radio silence.
“(Y/N), there they are.” Kate pointed. She really did have eagle eyes.
“I’ll get them.” Hope offered until an enemy ship opened fire.
“I’ve got it.” You said, channeling something deeper. Instead of making a bubble, you formed a tunnel of shimmering blue energy from the platform they were standing on to the back of the jet. “Hold her steady, Maria!”
“As steady as I can.”
A few explosions started at the back of the base, setting off a chain reaction. The two of them ran through the tunnel, its energy shielding them from the fire, the debris, and the rain of bullets. Wanda sped them along, until they were safe and sound, in the jet again.
Maria closed up the door as more explosions went off. You lowered your hands, letting the energy dispel. She flew off to a safe distance. The rest of you watched in awe as the Red Room fell, crumbling to bits, to ashes and ruin.
Yelena hugged Natasha, thanking her. Natasha apologized for not coming sooner. And the rest of the Widows were able to rest, breathing free for the first time in years.
***
The first stop on the docket was a SHIELD base in New York to drop off the majority of the Widows. SHIELD had a plan in place to get them back into society, integrated, rehabilitated, whatever they needed.
The second stop, of course, was Taco Bell, for refreshments.
The third stop was home, where Steve was waiting at the dinner table, chin resting against his folded hands, Bucky sitting across from him. He whipped around at the sound of the door opening. You, Kate, Wanda, Natasha, Hope, and Yelena were talking and laughing, laden with bags of fast food.
His eyes fell on yours first and it was like time stopped.
“How did it go?”
“Good. I got you a Baja Blast.” You said, setting the large cup of the teal drink in front of him.
He stared at it for a long moment before looking back up at you. “You…”
“I’m alright, Steve. We all are. And, uh, we have a new teammate.”
He finally spotted Yelena in the mix. “Oh?”
“Natasha has a sister.” You shrugged, sitting down and unpacking your order. “Apparently.”
Speaking of whom, Natasha walked up to Bucky, looked him in the eye, and said, “Barnes. Can I talk to you for a minute?”
“Yeah, of course.” He nodded, following her into another room.
“Wonder what that’s about.” Steve murmured, sticking a straw into the drink he kept staring at like it was a potion you’d plucked from a fantasy realm. You supposed teal was kind of an odd color for a drink…
You smirked. “I have some idea.”
“She told you?”
“Yeah.” You shrugged. “It makes a lot of sense. The way he looks at her…”
He nodded. “Like something out of a movie.”
“Yeah, exactly.” You sighed and then shook out of it, motioning to the drink. “Alright, let me know what you think.”
He took a first sip, holding it in his mouth for a second before swallowing. The smile on his face grew. “It’s sweet.”
“Too sweet?”
“A little.” He chuckled, going in for another sip. “No, maybe…maybe I do like it.”
“Uh-huh. Think about it.” You laughed.
Yelena sat down next to you. “Is this seat taken? I’m starving.”
“Have at it.”
“Alright, well, you girls have fun. I’m headed to bed.” He held up his cup. “Thanks for the drink. Glad you’re home safe.”
“Night, Steve.”
Yelena looked at you, wonder in her eyes. As soon as he was out of earshot, she said, “Oooh, tell me everything.”
You chuckled. “Where do I even start?”
Champagne Problems
Two weeks later, you got dressed for Wanda’s twenty-fifth birthday outing. It would be just the girls, headed to a club nearby. Wanda would turn twenty-five just after midnight and she didn’t want to be in the same building with Vision if she was going to get her heart broken. It wasn’t a bad plan, all things considered.
You were wearing a black dress, knee-length, form-fitting, paired with a dark red lip, and of course, the star necklace Steve had gotten for you all those months ago. You let your fingers linger on it in your reflection before throwing on your heels and walking out to the living room to wait for the others.
Steve was on the couch, watching the Muppets Movie.
“See? I wasn’t lying about Gonzo.”
“You weren’t.” He laughed.  He opened his mouth to make a quip, but it died on his tongue when he got a good look at you, eyes softening. “You got a date tonight? You’re all dolled up.”
“Huh? No.” You laughed. “It’s girls’ night.”
“Didn’t you just have girls’ night? I believe it involved several explosives.”
“Right, well, Wanda turns twenty-five just after midnight, so we’re going out again. This time hopefully with less explosions.”
“Ah.” He nodded. “Well, ya look great.”
You blushed. “Thanks.”
“You hear about Nat and Buck?”
“It’s official.” You grinned. “I’m happy for them.”
“Me too. They’ve both been through so much. They deserve to be happy.”
“So do you, Steve.”
He tilted his head, giving you that sad smile. “I am. Promise.”
The other girls came into the living room before you had the chance to respond. Nat was hand-in-hand with Bucky, who kissed her on the cheek before releasing her and joining Steve on the couch, grinning like he’d won the lottery. In a way, he had.
“Let’s get a move on, birthday girl.” Natasha said, slinging an arm around Wanda’s shoulders. “The night is young.”
She looked back longingly where Vision was hovering in the corner of the room. “Be back soon.”
“Text me when you find out.” He said.
“I will.” She promised, eyes brimming with tears.
You took her hand in yours, giving it a comforting squeeze. She squeezed it back, meeting your eyes and offering a smile.
The five of you piled into the car. Hope wasn’t coming because she was in San Francisco for the weekend, but Yelena was. She seemed determined to experience all the life she’d missed out on thus far. You couldn’t blame her in the slightest.
The club was lively, music pulsing loudly. There were lots of birthdays being celebrated, it turned out, announced by party hats, birthday crowns and sashes, and the periodic cheers of groups of people, yelling out in excitement when their friends learned who their lives were promised to. It was kind of magical.
You ordered a drink, downing it quickly and surrendering to the fuzzy feeling at the edges of your mind. You were pretty sure the last time you’d been drunk was your induction to the team. You remembered that night with Steve, how he looked at you, how it felt. And then you ordered a second drink, dancing to the music with the girls, trying to forget your worries, even if only for the night.
A guy approached you, a look in his eye. He eyed up your bare wrist. “No soulmate?”
“Not yet. A few months too early for that.”
“Then would you mind if I swept you off your feet for the night?”
“Sorry, I…I’m here for my friend. It’s her twenty-fifth.”
He scoffed, looking you up and down before stalking off towards his next victim. “Alright. Your loss.”
“Asshole.” Yelena rolled her eyes, taking your hands and spinning you around on the dance floor. You let her, dancing along. “I do not blame you, (Y/N). If I were you, I wouldn’t settle either. Not for that.”
You laughed. “Yeah, not my thing.”
“You’ve never…?”
“Well, a little. In high school, we used to have parties where we ‘practiced’ for our soulmates. It never got any further than a little spin the bottle, though.” You confessed.
“Ah, see, I’ve had practice. But it never meant anything. Red Room, bleh.” Yelena shrugged. “I am ready for something real.”
“How long you got left?”
“Another year.”
“I’ve got three and a half months.”
“So I’ve heard. I bet you are excited, being so close to it.”
“Excited, nervous.” You laughed, shrugging. “I kinda just want to rip the Band-Aid off, get it over with.”
“I’m sure.” She motioned Kate over and she joined the two of you, dancing to the beat. “Kate Bishop, how long do you have left?”
“I’m twenty-three.”
“Ah, well, then you have lots of time to party.” Yelena grinned, spinning her around. “We should really do this more often.”
You chuckled. Yelena had only been part of your little family for a few weeks, but already you could tell she was going to be a handful in the best way.
Eventually, you wandered back over to Wanda, who was standing in the corner of the room, nursing a single glass of Vodka Cran.
“Hey, birthday girl. You doing okay?” You asked.
She nodded, irises ringed with red, as they often were when she was stressed. She blinked a few times, forcing them back to hazel. “Doing great.”
“Wanda, whoever they are, they’re so lucky to have someone like you.” You took her hand. “Now let’s go dance and forget about it for the next hour.”
She smiled. “Lead the way.”
***
In what seemed like no time at all, midnight came. Natasha ordered a bottle of champagne and each of you got a glass. Wanda sat on a barstool, staring at her wrist. From right next to her, you had a pretty good view, watching with a racing heart as a string of letters appeared, darkening into existence.
The Vision.
She burst into tears, hitting the call button on her phone. He picked up on the first ring.
“It’s you, Vis! I knew it was you!”
The rest of you gathered your things, eager to reunite them as soon as you could. Your thoughts were racing, though. You’d never really thought of it before, but…your soulmate could be someone you already knew. Someone you were already in love with.
Someone who was already in love with you.
Maybe there was some hope after all…
The Origin
Only weeks after your night in the club, you found yourself in yet another bar. This time, it wasn’t for fun, though. You, Sam, Nat, Bucky, and Steve were undercover in a quaint little tavern in Alaska. A quaint little tavern that happened to be a front for Hydra, as it were. But that didn’t mean that everyone there was Hydra, just definitely the bar tender and the security guards that kept eyeing you up. Probably a handful of the patrons, too.
In addition to that, so were the flannel-clad guys at the bar.
“Hey, little lady.” One wandered up to you, bumping your elbows. “Can I buy you a drink?”
“I’m all set with this one, thanks.” You said, taking a long sip from your drink.
“Aww, come on, just one more?” The guy on your other side egged on. “Pretty girl like you deserves to have a little fun.”
The guys around them started getting riled up, trying to convince you to have another drink. Never had you been so glad to hear Steve’s voice.
“Sorry fellas, she’s taken. Come on, sweetheart.” You felt his hand on your shoulder and let him pull you away from the fray, back to his little corner. He had been growing out a bit of a beard for this. God, did it suit him. He rested his hands on your waist, face approaching your own, nose nestled beside your cheek. “You see anything?”
“Bartender has a gun under the counter. Intense code-protected lock on the door in the backroom.” You told him, masking your words with a smile, nuzzling your nose against his.
“I’ll get to work on the door.” Bucky said over the coms. “Whatever you’re doing is working. Those guys have lost all interest.”
“Perfect.” You chuckled. “Thanks for defending my honor.”
Steve smiled and it was breathtaking, the way his eyes sparkled in the warm light. “Anytime.”
You really couldn’t help yourself. You couldn’t even blame it on the alcohol; there hadn’t even been any. It was a virgin drink. Your arm wound around his neck, pulling him in so you could kiss his cheek. His arms wrapped tight around you and he buried his face in your neck to hide his rosy cheeks, laughing.
Once again, that line between your cover and your feelings began to blur.
“Alright, I’m in.” Bucky said. “Feel free to join us whenever.”
“Coming.” Steve murmured, a hand moving the hair out of your eyes. He pressed a long kiss to your forehead, sending your heart into a frenzy before taking your hand and leading you to the backroom, where Bucky and the others were waiting.
“You were born for undercover work, (Y/N).” Natasha said, giving you a smirk and a friendly nudge.
“Yeah, I don’t know about that.” You laughed. “It’s kind of fun, though.”
The five of you walked down the tunnel. When you finally reached the main room, it was kind of dark. You lit your fist with blue energy, using it to find a lightswitch. There were several computers that flashed to life, a wall of weapons, and also, a wall of screens. There was a little electrified cell, but it was empty. No captives, as far as you could see.
You started looking around while Natasha backed up files to a hard drive. Bucky watched the entrances. Sam looked over the weapons, taking notes of the ones that were out of the ordinary. Steve stared at the screens, mesmerized by…something.
“Um, (Y/N)?” He asked, motioning you over.
You looked up at the images. They were all of you. Pictures of you in the field, diagrams of your anatomy, hospital records, your birth certificate. There were illustrations of you, and a few fields marked as unfulfilled: blood sample, soulmate information, DNA.
Beneath it was written Planet of Origin: Illustria
“What the actual fuck.” You said, voice flat, staring at the word. You’d never heard it before. Not even with the recent discoveries about space and the wider universe. Thor, your only connection to space, had never mentioned it. Yet, for some reason, Hydra had reason to believe you were connected to it.
“Company.” Bucky announced, readying his gun as a group of Hydra agents stormed down the tunnel. 
A section of the wall slid open and a scientist-looking man stepped into the space. Steve threw his shield, bouncing it off of three surfaces before it came back to him. The man made a run for it, but you lit your fists and ran after him. Steve followed after.
Once you were both through, the wall slid shut. On the other side, you could still hear the sounds of the fight. They needed you. But you needed answers. It was an impossible choice, made easier when he started talking.
“Ah, the Girl from Space and the Man Out of Time. How nice to have you both here in one place.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” You said, fists clenched, eyes glazed over with raw power, glowing like Wanda’s did.
He laughed. “You didn’t know? Your commerades didn’t tell you? Surely they must have seen the suppressor in your neck when they were running all those tests.”
Your world came crashing down. “The what?”
“Your parents paid us to put it there. Paid SHIELD, at least, but, we’ve been one in the same for a long time. Didn’t know how to handle their little alien girl, especially at her full power, on a planet that wasn’t their own. They should have known you’d outgrow it eventually.” He tsked. “Of course, I could always take it out for you.”
“You touch her, you die.” Steve said, voice as smooth as steel. It sent a chill down your spine. “I’m warning you.”
It made sense. It was like a switch had been flipped when you were in college, your powers coming from seemingly nowhere. They’d been suppressed all your life, but finally, the suppressor stopped working. You hadn’t even known it was there. Maybe that was why you’d been stopped at so many airports.
“Not to worry Captain, I was on my way out of here anyway.” He raised his hands and started walking towards an exit tunnel.
You raised yours, making a cuff of energy around his wrist, holding him in place.
“No, you get to answer to SHIELD.” You told him. “And then you get to answer to me.”
Steve used his shield to knock the guy out with one quick, precise throw. The door behind the two of you slid open, Natasha pushing it open. There were downed Hydra agents all over the floor behind her.
“Having a party without us?”
“Something like that.” You mumbled, heart still racing.
“I got the files, (Y/N).” She said, playful demeanor falling immediately. “We’ll figure it out.”
Steve lugged the scientist over his shoulders, handing him off to the SHIELD agents who had come to help, one of whom happened to be one of the guys who was hitting on you at the bar. Go figure. Bucky and Sam joined the three of you. Sam put a hand on your shoulder and offered a supportive smile.
You still felt numb.
***
You got back to the safehouse and the snow outside doubled, coming down in droves, thick snowflakes and heavy winds. It was safe to say you would not be making it back to the Compound tonight.
You changed out of your bulletproof gear and into a tank top and sweats, running a hand through your hair. You met your eyes in the reflection, noticing how they flickered blue. In the other room, you could hear the video call finally go through with Tony and Bruce, who were back home.
“Oh don’t give me that look, Rogers.”
“Well, can you blame me?”
“What, like you’ve never kept a secret ever in your life, give me a break!”
“About her life, Tony!”
“I’ll get her.” You heard Natasha tell him, and then heard her footsteps approaching the bathroom door. She knocked. “Hey, they’re on. I made you some cocoa.”
You opened the door, letting out a sigh and nodding. “Thanks, Nat.”
She smiled, patting your shoulder and leading you out to the couch. Tony and Bruce were sitting in the living room on the screen. Steve had been pacing, obviously, given his stance and the fact that he was still standing.
You sat down, making eye contact with each of them, lips pressed into a flat line. Your heart raced, chest aching, stomach on fire from the adrenaline of it all. “So?”
Tony sighed. “You’re an alien.”
“Half.” Bruce amended. “On your mother’s side. She’s from a planet called Illustria.”
“Uh-huh, yeah. I got that part. How long have you known?”
Bruce looked at Tony, hoping he’d deliver that part of the news. He did. “I’ve known since you were recruited. Fury did a background check. You were already on the files.”
“What about the suppressor?”
“We didn’t know what it was. We didn’t know what taking it out would do to you.” Bruce admitted. “We thought you knew it was there.”
“I want it out.” You said with certainty. “I want it out as soon as we get home.”
“Are you sure?” Bruce asked.
“I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life. I want to know who I am. That starts with knowing what I’m actually capable of.” You sighed. “And call Thor. I have questions I need answered. His alien friends might know.”
“Anything else?” Tony asked.
“Who else knew.” It wasn’t a question, it was a demand.
“Just me and Fury,” he said, but you couldn’t tell if he was lying or not.
“And Hydra.” You snapped. “What, are you afraid of me? Had to keep a lid on my powers because you’re so fucking obsessed with control?”
Tony scoffed. Clearly, you’d struck a nerve. “That’s not it.”
“Then why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t know how you would take it.”
“Okay well, I think I would have been okay hearing it from a friend, in a place I felt safe. I had to hear about it from Hydra. They had a fucking cell with my name on it.” You said, trembling as you remembered it, tucked away in the corner there. That was the only explanation for it, really. And then something else clicked, too. “That…that day when Steve got tranq’ed. They weren’t trying to hit him, they were trying to hit me. He jumped in the way. They’ve…been trying to take me this entire time.”
“Oh my god, Tony…” Natasha said, voice quiet.
“Get those files to me, Nat. I’ll take a look. See if they have anything on the suppressor so I can take it out when you get back.” Bruce said, eyes soft. “And I’m sorry, for the record.”
“It’s not you I’m mad at.”
“Kid, please don’t—”
You cut Tony off with a click of the remote, hanging up the call. You let out a shaking sigh, setting the remote down. Your fingers were trembling. You took a few breaths, lungs heaving. You wanted to scream. You needed to let it out.
Everyone else on the team knew why they were there. Every other person in your life knew what made them special. Wanda’s power came from the Mind Stone, Steve’s came from the Serum, Tony’s came from his massive fucking ego. They all got the privilege of their origin story.
All of them except for you.
You needed to call your parents, if you even could. They’d told you they were moving to Florida. Now you wondered if they’d moved off the planet.
“You gonna be okay?” Sam asked, eyes trailing you as you paced through the room towards the door.
“Nope.” You walked out to the other den, burying your face in your arms, sobbing for a few minutes until you got it all out, or most of it anyway. Eight months. Eight fucking months he’d known you and didn’t think to tell you.
The chip in your shoulder burned.
You began to seriously wonder if anyone else had known. Bruce had run all those tests, surely he had seen something. He’d told you there were abnormalities, but he’d assumed they were from your powers, not the cause of them.
Steve crossed your mind briefly, but you shot that down pretty quick. He, of all people, would never keep a secret like that from you. You knew him well enough to know that.
Aside from that, the only real suspect you had was Vision. He had been JARVIS once, surely he still had some of that database in his mind. You’d give him the benefit of the doubt. For now.
“Hey.” Even before you looked up, you could tell Steve would be leaning in the doorway, that lovelorn look on his face. You were right, obviously.
Tears welled in your eyes. “Steve.”
He crossed the room, collecting you in his arms, hands rubbing comforting circles on your back. You surrendered to him, crying into the fabric of his crewneck, face tucked into the crook of his neck. One of his hands cradled your head, smoothing over your hair comfortingly.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” He rumbled, voice deep and soothing. “I would have told you.”
“I know you would.” You sniffled, gripping him like a lifeline, your anchor in the storm. You pulled away to meet his eyes. “I feel so stupid for crying about it.”
He shook his head. “It’s not stupid. I would, too.”
“Like it’s fine. Aliens are cool. T-Thor is cool.” You sniffled again, more tears running down your cheeks. “I’m fine with being one, I just…”
“You’re still (Y/N).” He asserted, a gentle thumb wiping your tears away. “You’ve always been able to do these amazing, beautiful things. Now we know why. And maybe there’ll be even more things you can do with that thing out of your neck.”
“Yeah…” You nodded. You took a deep breath. “I’m really glad you’re here, Steve. I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t.”
He pulled you back into his arms to hide the look on his face. “I’ve got you. Always. We’ll figure it out.”
***
Hours later, you were curled up on the couch, asleep. Despite the fireplace raging with fresh-chopped wood, you were still shivering, pulling the blankets around yourself as tight as you could.
Steve watched you from the dining table, forlorn. Natasha nudged him, motioning towards you. He shook his head. He couldn’t. Right? What, take advantage of you in your vulnerable state?
Bucky seemed to agree with Nat, grinning into his mug of coffee. Of course they agreed. They were soulmates, after all. Just like you and Steve. 
The mark on his wrist seemed to thrum when he thought about it.
Relenting, Steve got up off of his seat, walked towards the fireplace and adjusted the logs, adding another small one for good measure. He looked back at the others, who were silently, but aggressively, encouraging him to go over to you. Sighing, he did.
He knelt down in front of you, clearing his throat, which caused you to jolt awake.
“Is everything okay? Are we under attack?”
Steve chuckled. “No, uh, we’re all good. Are you cold? You’re shivering.”
“Kind of, yeah.” You admitted. “I’ll be okay, though, I promise. I’ve always been kind of cold. Must be an alien thing…”
“Do you…want some company?” He asked, unsure of how to word it. “I…run warm.”
“Do you mind?” You asked, sitting up a little and raising the blankets you were under.
His heart raced. “Here, um…” He wiggled in underneath you, letting you lead as the two of you settled.
“God, you do run warm.” You hummed, all but collapsing against him, a hand flat against his chest while you adjusted.
“I didn’t always.” He said, voice sincere. “Buck and I used to have to share a bed in the winter. It was brutal.”
“Sounds like it.”
“Yeah, he snores.” Steve joked, earning a laugh.
“Oh I know. I can hear him three doors down back home.”
“And I can hear you from the other room!” Bucky called, sending you and Steve into a fit of giggles, like kids at a sleepover. “It’s a small cabin!”
You heard him and Sam devolve into a bickering match about the truth of whether or not Bucky actually snored that loud.
You looked up at Steve, asking “is it okay if I put my arm here?” while carefully draping an arm across him.
“Yeah, of course. Get comfortable.” He nodded, leaning against the pillows and pulling the blanket up around your shoulders.
You rested your head on his firm chest, listening to the way his heart was racing. Cute.
“We could, uh, put on some music if you want.” Steve suggested. “I’ve still got that playlist on my phone.”
“Which one’s your favorite?” You asked, voice soft, curious.
“Timeless.”
“I thought it would be.” You smiled, meeting his eyes, which sparkled in the light of the fire. “You’re so timeless, Steve Rogers.”
He grinned. “You think so? You don’t think I’m a fossil like everyone else?” he said, quoting Natasha and Tony and many others who equated him to some dinosaur because of his accident.
“Not even close.” You shook your head and sighed. “This might be the wrong thing to say, but…I’m really glad you’re here. Your life could have looked a lot different, but I’m really glad you ended up in mine.”
It took every ounce of his being to hold in his tears when you said it. If he could have confessed then and there, he would have. He would have kissed you square on the lips, told you he loved you, that he always had, that you weren’t some accident, you were his destiny. Always had been.
Instead, he had to settle for, “I’m getting used to it, but I am, too. I’m really glad I found you that day, (Y/N).”
“Me too.” You smiled, readjusting your cheek against his chest, letting out a long breath. “Goodnight, Steve.”
“Night.”
His warmth lulled you to sleep after a long, emotional day. Never had you felt so safe and protected. It was easy to feel that way in the arms of a supersoldier, you supposed, thoughts meandering until there weren’t any left. You were asleep in minutes, breaths slow and long and even.
Once he was absolutely sure you were out, Steve pressed the gentlest kiss to your forehead, grateful beyond words to have you in his arms again, grateful you were safe, grateful you were his.
Even if you didn’t know it yet.
***
The next morning, sunlight streamed through the sliver of a gap in the curtains, right into your eyes. You blinked a few times, trying to figure out why the mattress was moving. And then you remembered. Steve.
The supersoldier was still asleep, breaths long and slow, those thick, gorgeous eyelashes resting against his sharp cheekbones, lips impossibly pink. His muscled arm wrapped tight around your waist, the other settled on the couch.
Your eyes wandered to the band on his wrist. It was out of place slightly, the edge almost crooked enough to read the letters etched onto his skin. Almost.
There was a part of you that was tempted to look. To nudge it aside the tiniest bit, say it was an accident, and finally know who it was that had been holding his heart in their hands for the last seventy or so years.
But you couldn’t do that to him. He trusted you enough to hold you while he slept, while he was the most vulnerable. You respected him too much to do that. So instead, you adjusted slightly, closing your eyes again.
“(Y/N).” Natasha said from the doorway of the kitchen.
“Hmm?” You replied, eyes opening again.
She eyed up the two of you, grinning. “Cute.”
You chuckled. “Thanks.”
“Got those files sent to Bruce. He doesn’t think it’ll be a problem getting that thing out of you. Won’t even have to put you under.”
“Cool.” You nodded. “Is it…like right between my neck and my shoulder? On the right side?”
“That’s where it is on the diagrams, yeah.”
“Okay. Thought so. I get pain there sometimes.”
“During training?”
“Yeah. I didn’t think it was anything serious. Thought it was like a pulled muscle or a pinched nerve or something.”
“You never said anything.” Steve murmured, blinking awake. “You were in pain that whole time?”
“No. It comes and goes. Mostly when I try out new stuff.” You said, still planted on his chest, looking up at him.
He smiled. “Morning.”
“Morning. How’d you sleep?”
“Really well, actually. How did you sleep?”
“Like a fucking rock.” You grinned. “You weren’t kidding about running warm. Thanks for sharing.”
“Anytime.”
“Let’s get a move on, team.” Sam said, walking out from the bedrooms down the hall, Bucky not far behind him, looking tired.
You reluctantly left the warmth of your shared cocoon, sitting up and stretching, brushing your fingers through your tangled hair. “Alright, let’s go get this thing out of me.”
Show Yourself
“Alright, so, this might hurt a bit. Are you ready?” Bruce warned. You were laid out on a table on your stomach, a curled pillow beneath your head. It was a bit like a massage, except Bruce had made an incision at the base of your neck where your suppressor was implanted. He’d given you some numbing gel and pain meds, though, so you didn’t feel much.
On the other side of the observation window, Steve was standing with Natasha, his arms crossed, eyes focused. Tony wasn’t allowed even in there, which pissed him off. He’d tried to get on your good side when you’d gotten home and you blew him off completely, which, Steve had to admit, was amusing.
And Tony definitely deserved it.
“I’m good. Go for it.”
Carefully, Bruce used his tools to wiggle it free from your flesh, setting off a chain reaction in your body. The wave of relief you felt was almost enough to put you to sleep, a refreshing, cool sensation rushing from your head to your toes. Power crackled between your fingers, and you could feel your eyes glowing for a moment, despite the fact that you couldn’t see your reflection.
Bruce moved to stitch you up, but your body did the work for him, mending back together on its own before his very eyes. He adjusted his glasses, sure he was seeing things. But no, the wound was healed, just leaving a little dried blood on your skin, which he wiped off with a wet piece of gauze.
“Woahhh.” You murmured, coming out of the trance. You blinked a few times and it felt like waking up from a college nap, the kind you don’t set an alarm for and then come out of in a stupor.
“You feel okay?”
“Yeah, I’m great.” You nodded. “Are you done? Did you stitch it up?”
“I…didn’t have to.” He murmured, still staring at the spot. He handed you the shirt you’d brought in and you tugged it over your head, staring at your arms, your hands. You didn’t look any different, but it was like every atom in your body was electrified.
It felt right.
Bruce opened the door and Steve and Natasha walked in, watching your every move.
“Wow.” Natasha said, grinning. “You look…”
“The same, but…more you.” Steve met your eyes, offering you his hand. 
You took it, letting him help you stand. Even his touch felt different now. Better. You settled, adjusting. It felt different, like even the gravity itself had changed. It would take some getting used to.
“I need to hit the training room.” You said with an excited grin. “You two are welcome to join me.”
“Can I watch? I want to take notes.” Bruce said. “From the observation booth, of course.”
“Oh yeah, by all means.” You nodded, leading the others down the hallway. A few others tagged along, Yelena, Kate, Wanda, who were all curious to see what you were capable of now, and just how much Tony’s lies had been holding you back. Sam and Bucky were already there and smiled when they saw you coming, Steve and the others in tow.
They cleared out some room, letting you have the space you needed. You stretched and then got to work.
First, you made a few forcefields. They still had that shimmer, like sunlight in a swimming pool, but they were twice as thick as they had been before. Steve couldn’t break them with his super-strength anymore.
You had more control over your waypoints and your portals, which, the more you used them, were becoming two different things. The waypoints, your stars, were a quick zip from point A to point B. Your portals, however, were more like a window that you could open and close, and took on more of a circular shape.
You were stronger, too. Nowhere near as strong as Bucky or Steve, but twice as strong as you’d been before, faster.
And then came the other thing. If you focused hard enough, and focused on the floaty, tingly feeling in your chest, your body started to glow around the edges, and at long last, your feet rose from the floor.
“Oh my god…” You murmured, lifting yourself from the tile ground. At first, it was hard to control, but you quickly figured out how to get from point to point, and how to hover in the middle.
Steve stared up at you as you hovered, fists lit with power, hair floating in the breeze you’d created. It was like watching the birth of a star, powerful and beautiful and otherworldly.
For the first time since 1943, he knew in his soul that he had to paint you, exactly like this. He memorized the moment in his mind, every detail from the streak of sunlight on your chest to the misplaced strand of hair on your forehead, the exact hue of your glowing irises.
“A picture might last longer.” Natasha teased under her breath, watching as you touched down.
“Yeah, I was thinking the same thing.” Steve replied, already picking out a color palette in his head.
“Holy shit…” You breathed, the glow dissipating as you returned to normal. “What a rush.”
“Welcome to the fly club, kid.” Sam said, patting you on the back.
“Thanks.” You grinned. “You’ll have to give me some pointers sometime.”
“Oh, anytime.” Sam walked over to Steve with you. “You see her up there? She’s like Superman.”
“I saw.” Steve agreed, arms crossed. “I think this calls for celebration, huh?”
“What did you have in mind, Cap?” You asked.
“Baja Blast?” He suggested, earning a laugh and a friendly shove.
“So you did like it?”
“It’s growin’ on me.” Steve admitted, that sly smile spreading. “Come on, my treat.”
“Oh I’m in.” You agreed. “Let me just take these monitors off.”
You turned in Bruce’s software, all of the vital-measuring instruments, cuffs and little sensors hooked to your arms and legs and chest.
“So, give it to me straight, doc. Am I stable?”
“Yeah, everything looks great. Vitals are great, heartrate is fine, if not a little elevated, but I’d assume that’s just from the adrenaline.” Bruce noted, looking at the numbers and charts on the screen in front of him. “If you feel weird, let me know and I can check things over, do some scans, but otherwise, it seems…you’re doing better than you were before, actually.”
“Alright, good to know.” You said, trying not to let his words hurt you. 
It was good news, it really was, but you could have felt this way for eight months, not two hours. You were thinking faster, processing things at better speeds. Hell, it even felt like you were breathing easier. Whatever that thing was that had been inside you, it had been sapping your health for your entire life. And now, you finally knew what it was like to be at a hundred percent instead of eighty.
Fuck Tony.
***
Steve drove the two of you through the nearest Taco Bell drive-thru to get snacks for yourselves and the rest of the team.
You ordered your regular, your Baja Blast, and everything the others had requested, running it on one of the team cards Tony had given you all. On the drive back, Steve had a question you didn’t really expect.
“Where do people shop for art supplies these days?”
“Jo Ann’s or Michael’s. They have a little bit of everything. Fabric, yarn, paint, beads, basically everything you could need. Why, you got a DIY project planned?”
“Something like that, yeah.” He grinned. “I don’t do much shopping, so I didn’t know where to start.”
“We should go sometime. I was running low on yarn.” You said, taking a sip of your Baja Blast.
“Make anything cool lately?”
“I’m working on a sunflower cardigan for Wanda.”
“Oh she’ll love that.”
“Yeah, she’s the one who sent me the pattern.” You chuckled. “It’s gonna look really cute on her.”
The two of you got back a few minutes later, a drove of hungry superheroes descending upon the paper bags you were carrying almost instantly. It was a welcome sight, a full table of laughing people. Your family. You felt a little different now, but nothing had changed. Not really. They still liked you, still smiled at you, joked with you, laughed with you.
So then why had Tony felt the need to hide it for so long?
***
Days later, Steve walked down the paint aisle of the craft store, picking out some brushes, some canvas, paints. He found the perfect one for your eyes, another hue for your forcefields. The amount of time he spent looking at you made it easy.
He smiled to himself. The little guy from Brooklyn would be proud of him, getting back into art beyond the sketches he did from time to time. It reminded him, though, that he needed to swing back to that antique shop and finally pick up the painting that had been waiting for him for so long.
Surely, he could keep it hidden until your big day.
Happiest Place on Earth
Being an Avenger often brought along unexpected adventures and opportunities. Today, that adventure was a theme park. Apparently, Disneyland was putting in a whole section in homage to the Avengers and Tony wanted you all to be there.
And though the two of you weren’t on the best terms at the moment, who were you to fight a free vacation?
You and Wanda helped pick out each others’ outfits for your day off following the grand opening. But today, you were wandering the park in uniform, side by side with Captain America himself, as you walked side by side down the street in the parade.
They’d tried to teach you all to do a little dance as you walked. The only one even attempting it was Scott, who was absolutely thrilled to be there. Supposedly, his daughter Cassie would be there to see him, too. You hadn’t met her yet, but Scott loved her to the moon and back. With him as a dad, she’d have to turn out pretty cool.
“Waypoint,” Steve said, motioning you over to see a little girl dressed not as a princess, but as you, your star shining proudly on her chest.
“Hey there, superstar.” You smiled, giving her a high-five. “You look great!”
“I want to be a hero just like you someday!” She said, her voice impossibly small. Impossibly innocent. It was a cute moment, but you couldn’t help but hope she’d never have to be. That someday, you and the rest of the team would get the world to a place where superheroes weren’t needed, where there was just peace. Where people with powers could simply be like everyone else.
“You already are, hon.” You told her, posing for a picture as her mom held up her phone.
You continued along the parade route and saw a couple. The guy was wearing a Captain America hoodie, the girl was wearing a Waypoint shirt. You wondered if Steve noticed, but didn’t have to ask when you saw his eyes lingering there, his mask all but hiding the faint blush on his cheeks.
A few teenage girls stopped you and you signed their autograph books, throwing something together. Despite your time on the team, there had never really been a time you’d been stopped for them. It was an odd feeling, being famous for something like this.
Steve signed with confidence, though. Sometimes you forgot that before he actually got to go out in the field and make a difference, he’d done a stint as a celebrity, touring the country to sell war bonds.
Someday, you’d bribe him enough to show you the videos, if he hadn’t already burnt all of them first.
“Are you excited for your birthday?” One asked. “I heard your twenty-fifth is coming up.”
“Oh! Yeah! I mean, I guess I’m more anxious than anything. It’s the big one.”
“You’re going to have every twenty-four year old in the country on the edge of their seat waiting to find out if they’re the one.” Another joked. 
You laughed along. “Yeah, I guess it’s coming whether I want it to or not.”
You were near the end of the route, so it wasn’t long after that you were off the hook to walk around a bit, get something to eat.
Steve turned to you, trying to sound casual when he asked, “You don’t want your birthday to come?”
“I mean, yeah.” You shrugged. “I’m not entirely set on the idea of pledging myself to some stranger for the rest of my life.”
“It’s not always a stranger.” Steve said. “Maybe you already know them.”
“That’s true. That would be…I mean, it would be better, sure, but…I’m pretty sure the only person I want it to be already has someone else.” You couldn’t meet his eyes when you said it, afraid of the answer, one way or the other, whether he finally said it outright, or if those pretty blue eyes said it for him.
You couldn’t handle the heartbreak.
“Wait—”
“(Y/N), we have time to hop on Pirates of the Caribbean.” Wanda said, swooping in to save you. She was really good at that. She took your hand and the two of you ran off in the direction of the ride.
Natasha walked up behind Steve, hand in hand with Bucky, who was nibbling on a churro. Obviously, they had heard the exchange.
“Fuck.” Steve muttered, shaking his head. “Well, great.”
“What’s going on, soldier?” Natasha asked.
“She’s gonna be so pissed when she finds out it’s me.” Steve said, voice small, as he watched you walk away. He waited for you to glance back at him. You didn’t.
“What are you talking about? Steve, she’s liked you for months. She listened to Songs for Sad Bitches when she thought she couldn’t have you.” Natasha reasoned. “Feelings like that don’t just go away.”
Bucky chimed, “Are we forgetting the night at the cabin?”
“That was three months ago.” Steve said, staring at his shoes. “I…I’ve been keeping it from her this entire time, hiding it from her, letting her feel like shit and stress herself out over it. I shouldn’t have gotten so close in the first place, but…I just can’t keep myself away from her. She looks at me with those eyes and I just…crumble.”
“I hear ya, pal.” Bucky said, patting his arm. “But you remember the look in her eyes at the bar that night? You remember the things she said to you? That (Y/N) is still a month away. She still has feelings for you. She still loves you, and she’s…she’s even excited to see the little guy.”
“She loved the little guy.” Steve agreed, smiling softly, remembering the look on your face when he’d found you, laying on his porch, the tenderness with which you’d whispered his name. In a world that constantly looked down on him, figuratively and literally, you were the first person aside from Bucky that made him feel loved, like he had something waiting for him.
Steve let out a long breath, nodding. Bucky was right. Back in the forties, he’d been the level-headed voice of reason, getting Steve out of the trouble his big mouth got him into. Even in the twenty-first century, he was still doing his damage control. In a way, he had missed it.
“Alright, now I know I missed some chapters.” Sam was on Steve’s other side, holding an ice cream sandwich, eyes wide. “When exactly were you going to tell me your soulmate is on the team?”
Steve chuckled. “Surprise?”
“Welcome to the inner circle, Sam. We’ve been waiting for you.” Natasha joked, wearing a grin.
“I mean, it explains a hell of a lot. Here I was thinking she was like…the grandkid of one of your old war buddies or something.”
“That’s what I thought!” Natasha agreed. She and Bucky finally filled Sam in on everything he’d missed over the past several months.
Steve’s eyes wandered back to that couple, dressed as him and you. They were holding hands, walking down the pathway, laughing, talking. They stopped for a selfie together in front of the Avengers Campus sign, which inevitably devolved into a kiss.
And in his head, he replaced them with him and you, carefree and in love in the happiest place on earth.
You’re On Your Own, Kid
Maybe, if you lied very still, you could convince the universe no time was passing at all. You were staring at the ceiling, flat on your back, the weight of the world resting flat against your entire body. No, against your soul, weighing you down.
Tomorrow was your birthday and you were not ready. Not in the slightest.
You let out a loud groan, forcing yourself to get up, to get dressed. You chucked your pajamas in your hamper, throwing on some joggers and a t-shirt, the old Star Wars tee you’d had since high school. It was a simple one, black with stars scattered across the fabric, the yellow logo emblazoned across the front.
There was a knock on your door.
“It’s open.” You called, not turning around to see who it was. You put on your star necklace, the one Steve had given you almost an entire year before. You tucked it under the fabric of the shirt.
“Morning. How’d you sleep?” Steve asked, leaning in the doorway, arms crossed, eyes searching.
“Not well.” You sighed, turning to look at him.
“I didn’t either when mine was coming. I swear I didn’t get any sleep for a week.” He said, eyes soft. “I, um, got breakfast. It’s in the kitchen. Those breakfast sandwiches you like.”
Your lips curled into a tired smile. “Thanks. That’s really sweet.”
“Of course. Whatever you want today, just say the word.”
You crossed the room, walking right up to him and straight into his arms. He held you to him, read resting against yours. For a moment, he questioned if it had already happened, if he’d gotten the days mixed up.
If you already knew.
“I just need you to hold me.” You whispered, holding in tears. You should have been excited. It should have felt like Christmas Eve. You should have been absolutely buzzing with excitement for the day to come.
But you weren’t ready to let him go, for everything about your relationship to change. You needed more time.
“I can do that.” He said softly, thumbs etching circles into your shoulders. “As long as you need me to. I’ve got you. Always.”
“Okay.” You whispered, voice breaking. The tears finally slipping down your cheeks. It was all you could say to keep yourself from saying ‘I love you.’
You ate breakfast with the others. Natasha could tell you had been crying, so after, she took you, Wanda, Kate, and Yelena out of the house. It was a welcome distraction. The mall was the perfect spot. It always was. 
“What about this one?” Wanda held another dress against you, imagining you in it for your birthday party the following night. Steve had taken it upon himself to be the entire planning committee, which was why he was back at the Compound with the boys, getting things in order. The only thing he wanted to have to worry about tomorrow was the party itself.
“Does it come in blue?” You asked, eyeing up the rack she’d pulled it off of.
“It does.” She smiled, putting the red one back in exchange for blue. It was sparkling, form-fitting, a little less formal than the one you’d worn to your Avengers induction, but it had the same vibe, just shorter and with a deeper neckline.
“Perfect.” You said, turning towards the dressing room. You handed Wanda your purse and slipped into it. It fit perfectly in all the right places. You did a little turn in the mirror, satisfied, and then walked out into the store again, where Natasha was nodding in approval.
“Alright, dress acquired, where to next?” Kate asked, checking the list she was keeping on her phone.
“I heard there is a Lego store here.” Yelena said absentmindedly, glancing out the door. “We should go.”
“Is that where you got Steve’s Millennium Falcon?” Natasha asked.
“Steve has a Millennium Falcon???” Yelena asked, eyes wide. “I want one.”
“I got it online. It was on sale.”
“I didn’t know Steve liked Star Wars.” Kate noted as you walked back into the dressing room to change back into your Star Wars shirt, ironically enough.
“Loves it. He’s a big nerd. Bucky, too. Buck’s more of a fantasy nerd, though. He’s super into Lord of the Rings.” You could hear the grin in Natasha’s voice when she said it.
“Steve said it was the first thing he watched out of the ice. Star Wars, that is. I don’t know if he’s seen Lord of the Rings yet.” You added. “And he’s talked about going to the Stark Expo back in the day. Vintage nerd.”
“Nice.”
Once you’d paid for the dress, you moved on to the Lego Store, where Yelena just about ran to the Millennium Falcon set to see it for herself.
“Lego typewriter.” Natasha noted, pointed at it. “Speaking of vintage nerd.”
“Oh I’m sure he’d get a kick out of that.” You laughed. Depending on how things settled after your soulmate bomb dropped, maybe you’d come back and get it for him. At the very least, you were pretty sure you’d still be friends after it all. And friends built Lego sets together.
“Hey, wait, there are Legos of us?” Kate asked, eyeing up the display where Steve had, you assumed, gotten your matching keychains. “This is news to me.”
“Let me see.” Yelena walked over and gasped, eyes falling on her Lego self.
Wanda smiled softly, head tilting as she looked at you. She rested her hand on your shoulder.
“It will be fine. To quote someone I care about very deeply: whoever they are, they are lucky to have you. Now, let’s forget about it for a bit.”
“Alright.” You agreed, letting her lead you over to the Build-a-Figure station, where you started mixing and matching the pieces. It was hard, but you let your worries melt away, at least for a little while.
***
Meanwhile, Steve was walking around the Compound with a clipboard, making sure everything was ready for the next day. Scott and the ants were helping put up the decorations. He’d sent Sam and Bucky to pick up the cake, and Tony had taken it upon himself to take care of the catering. A peace offering of sorts.
Steve was putting together the playlist for the party himself, hand-picking songs you liked, recommendations from Nat and Wanda, songs from Taylor Swift’s discography, and then, finally, a special song he’d been saving. 
Steve liked to listen to his records in the privacy of his room, away from the ears of members of the team who would tease him for it. They were forties jazz mostly, made the place feel a little more like home, especially when you weren’t around. But there was a song that he would soon share with you, as soon as tomorrow came. He hesitated to add it, but eventually, he pressed his thumb to the song, adding it to the playlist.
He closed his eyes, remembering that moment. The last song of the night before Val’s closed. It was one of the last times he had gone there.
“We’ll meet again, don’t know where, don’t know when…” The singer’s voice had floated across the room, words striking him to his core. He got chills, opening his eyes again. God, he couldn’t wait for you to know. Sure, he was a supersoldier, but he was pretty sure the weight of his secret was finally crushing him.
***
You retreated to your room when you and the girls got home. It was kind of late. You’d decided to catch a movie while you were out. You didn’t mind. You were beyond ready to go to sleep and just…get it over with.
Off with the Band-Aid.
“Where’s (Y/N)?” Steve asked, finding Natasha and Kate in the dining room.
“She went to her room for the night.” Kate replied innocently.
“Alright.” He nodded. “How was she doing?”
“Not great.” Yelena said, already into the box of the Lego set she’d settled on. “I mean, she’s like fine. Just…kinda sad.”
“Quiet.” Wanda agreed. Vision had his arm around her.
“Okay, well…” Steve put his hands on his hips, thinking. What was the harm in telling them now? Warning the rest of them what they’d be waking up to tomorrow. “Vision, can you round up the others?”
“Of course.” Vision nodded. “To be clear, I am to leave out (Y/N)?”
“Yeah. Yeah, everyone but (Y/N).” Steve confirmed, leading the others upstairs to one of the lounges. He sat on the couch, mouth resting against his hands, elbows on his knees. Tony sauntered in, followed by Bruce. The rest of the team filed in one by one, finding seats, staring at Steve, waiting for answers.
“So, um, thanks for coming everyone.” Steve said, meeting their eyes.
“Uh, Cap, we’re missing (Y/N).” Clint said, looking around.
“That’s the idea.” Natasha replied.
“Is this a party planning meeting? Do the decorations look okay? I really thought the ants did a good job.” Scott said.
“They did a great job.” Steve reassured him, taking a moment to collect his words. “So, as you all know, tomorrow is (Y/N)’s twenty-fifth birthday. And…I need to finally come clean. I’m her soulmate.”
“Okay, now that I did not know.” Tony said, meeting Steve’s eyes. “Your long lost love is one of our housemates?”
“Tony.” Nat shot him a look.
“No, I’m serious. I’m just…I’m relieved is all.” Tony admitted with a sigh. “I…the reason I didn’t tell her is because I didn’t know if Illustrians…I didn’t know if she’d have one. I figured…” He shook his head, staring at the floor. “I didn’t want to bring her down when it was so close.”
Steve took off the cuff on his wrist, finally finally showing him the mark that had been there since his twenty-fifth birthday in 1943. Your name, written in your neat, careful handwriting, first, middle, and last.
“Why not tell her, then?” Kate asked. “Why haven’t you told her?”
“That’s a little more complicated.” Steve thought. “When I turned twenty-five…she was there. In a few hours, when she goes to sleep, she’s headed to the forties to see…well, me, before the serum. I don’t know how or why, but…when she got there, she didn’t know. I didn’t want to risk changing anything. Butterfly effect and all that.”
“Time travel?” Bruce asked, eyes bugging out of his head. “You are just casually telling us that time travel exists.”
“I guess so.”
“Woah. Bruce. We’ve got some tests to run.” Tony said.
“Oh I am already taking notes in my head.”
The meeting ended shortly after that. The rest of the team gave him supportive words and smiles, but Tony’s were the most poignant. 
“I don’t know what you’re still doing here, Rogers. Go see her off.”
“Right. Yeah. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Good luck, Steve.”
“Thanks, Tony.”
***
You closed the door after Steve left, listening to his footsteps retreat down the hall, steady and even. You let another tear roll down your cheek. All of the crying was exhausting. You just wanted to be done with it.
You sat on the bed, taking off your bra and chucking it across the room, laying back to relax and, hopefully, get some sleep.
The exhaustion must have been helping, because as soon as you closed your eyes, you felt the drifting start. It was strong and immediate, pulling you down through the mattress. You felt like you were floating and falling at the same time, limbs tingling. Your eyes shot open when you realized what was happening, but it was already too late.
And then everything went white.
Right Where You Left Me
In 1943, you walked hand in hand with your soulmate down the sidewalk, through Steve’s favorite park. It happened to be a shortcut between his favorite diner and the local theater. He liked to sit there sometimes, sketch couples walking by. Never had he imagined he’d be one of the couples someday.
For the past week, he’d about worried himself sick. He’d barely slept, he’d had no appetite, he’d had the worst art block of his life. Every time he fell asleep, he had dreams of finding his soulmate, only for them to be some pretty but shallow girl who didn’t want anything to do with him. He had nightmares of a grayed out mark like Bucky’s, or worse, no mark at all. Which is why when he’d run out that morning to get the mail, he hadn’t even checked yet.
Part of him didn’t want to.
And then he’d found you out there, laying under the mailbox.
And now, he was holding your hand. 
You caught his eyes, grinning. He smiled back, heart racing. Gosh, maybe he needed to sit down.
“Hey, could we sit for a minute?” He asked, motioning to the bench beside the path and trying his best not to sound out of breath.
“Yeah, of course.” You agreed, following him and sitting down beside him, hand still clasped tight in yours. “Do you have an inhaler?”
“What’s an inhaler?”
“Shit, right, they probably haven’t been invented yet…” You murmured, pulling your lip between your teeth. “Are you okay? Do you need anything?”
“You…know about the asthma.” He realized.
You nodded. “I know about all of it, Steve.”
He chuckled, shaking his head. “And you’re still looking at me with those eyes?”
“What eyes?” You tilted your head, innocent. “There’s no one else I’d rather be looking at, Steve. Just you.”
“Okay, now I know you’re not real.”
“Am I gonna have to spend all day convincing you I am?”
“You just might.”
You leaned in and pressed a kiss to his cheek, leaving a reddish mark there. “Oops. Sorry, let me—”
Steve grabbed your hand, stopping you from wiping it away. “Leave it. Bucky comes home covered in ‘em all the time. I’ve never gotten one before.”
“I am going to cover you in lipstick marks by the end of today.”
He grinned, finally standing up to keep moving. “Is that a promise?”
***
It was nearing the end of the night. Steve could feel his time with you was nearly spent. So he led you by the hand to the stairs at the back of the bar, the ones that led up to the roof. He’d found himself up there alone on quite a few nights, when the double dates Bucky set up inevitably crumbled.
It was a beautiful night, clear. The stars were out in force, dotting the sky in perfect constellations. In the distance, fireworks boomed. It was one thing he’d always loved about his birthday.
“Wow, this is great.” You murmured, looking out at the city. It was like you were living in a photograph, the old buildings looming in the skyline, vintage cars driving down the street.
“My favorite spot.” He explained, walking over to the railing.
“I can see why.” You let out a sigh, gripping his hand tighter, fingers laced with his. You turned towards him, looking at the smattering of kiss marks on his cheeks. You’d kept true to your word.
Steve twirled you around, pulling you closer, a soft, romantic smile on his face. “God, you are so beautiful.”
“Let me show you something.” You told him, drawing his eyes to your hand where you made a tiny, gentle forcefield, its blue light shining across his features.
“What…is that?” He asked, staring at the orb. “Is that how you got here? Where were you keeping it?”
You curled your fingers, letting the bubble fizzle away. “It’s not a thing. It’s part of me. Something I’ve been able to do since college. There are a lot of people like me where I’m from, people with gifts. Steve…after I leave, your life is about to get a lot weirder than time travel and forcefields. I can’t tell you how or why, but…”
“I appreciate the heads-up.” He assured you, smiling. “And I love you, too. I didn’t say it down there, and I know I just met you this morning, but…I…I love you so much, doll. I don’t know what I’m gonna do without you.”
“You, Steve Rogers, are going to do amazing things.” You whispered, taking his hand again.
“Says the girl with superpowers.”
“I’m serious.” You told him. “I grew up hearing stories about you. I wanted to be just like you. Brave beyond words, fiercely loyal. I guess it only makes sense that we share a soul.”
Steve grabbed your face with both hands, kissing you deeply, lips dancing against your own, heart racing, knees wobbling like Jell-O. He rested his nose against yours, breathing shallow.
“Careful, there. Don’t let me take your breath away.”
He shook his head, kissing you one last time before murmuring, “Oh doll, I could do this all day.” He glanced back towards the door, music from downstairs faint. He took your hand. “Let’s go back downstairs. I think they’re playing the last song.”
You smirked, following him. “I thought you had two left feet.”
He shrugged. “I’m a quick learner.”
***
After you’d disappeared, Steve felt hollow, walking slowly back into the house. Bucky was sitting at the kitchen table, absently reading the paper. He met Steve’s eyes when he heard his trudging footsteps.
“She left you something.” Bucky chucked the bundle of fabric at him and Steve caught it, holding it out in front of him.
Your Star Wars shirt. Shit. He hoped you didn’t need it for anything. “Uh oh.”
“Might fit you.” Bucky chuckled. “Obviously you can’t wear it out, but…”
“Yeah.” Steve agreed, eyes sparkling with tears. He held it to his face, inhaling the scent of your perfume like it was oxygen. “God, I miss her.”
“I know, pal. It’ll be alright. I know it doesn’t seem like it now, but it will be.” Bucky’s eyes fell to the grayed out mark on his own wrist, so faint it was barely legible. “You just gotta take it one day at the time.”
Don’t Know Where, Don’t Know When
Your veins were on fire. The blinding white shimmered, giving way to…your ceiling. You were laying on your bed again, sunlight streaming through the window.
You blinked a few times, feeling flowing back into your limbs slowly. Your heart raced. You sat up, staring at your hands. Soon enough, your eyes found your wrist. The letters were still there, spelling out the name of your soulmate.
Steven Grant Rogers.
“Oh my god.” You looked up and met your reflection’s eyes, your hair still set in elegant 40s waves. Your pajamas were gone, replaced with the blue dress. Your lips were a deep shade of red, the same shade you’d left all over Steve’s face last night. A different Steve in a different time.
You let out a breath, standing up and walking towards the door, your new-vintage forties heels clicking with every step. You marched straight out to the kitchen, where Steve was sitting at the table, fiddling with his cuff. He was sitting across the table from Bucky and Natasha, whose eyes tried to warn Steve that you were approaching behind him.
“Happy Birthday, (Y/N). Um, how’d you sleep?” He asked, eyes widening when he saw the way you were dressed. His first love, in the flesh, just the way he remembered her.
“I didn’t.” You replied, grabbing his wrist and pulling him out of the room, snatching up the folding footstool leaned on the end counter as you passed.
“Good luck, pal.” Bucky laughed.
You just about kicked open the door of the conference room, skirt swishing as you did. You closed the door behind you, locking it with a click.
“(Y/N), listen, I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you, but—”
You unfolded the stool, getting up on top of it and pushing him against the wall. You crushed your lips against his, hands grasping the fabric of his shirt. He moaned into your mouth, frozen for a moment until the rest of him got the hint. His eyes fluttered shut, strong arms wrapped around your waist, head tilting as he deepened the kiss.
Your grip on his shirt weakened, arms looping behind his neck, holding him close as his lips left yours. He rested his forehead against yours, breaths ragged. He laughed, tucking his face into the crook of your neck to hide the tint of his cheeks.
“Not quite where I thought this conversation was gonna go.” He murmured against you, pressing kisses up your neck.
You reached for his left hand, fingers lingering against the strip of leather that was still hiding your name.
“You can take it off.” He told you, eyes sparkling. “It’s about time.”
Carefully, you undid the metal bit holding it in place and peeled it back, revealing your name etched there onto his skin, your handwriting unmistakable. You choked on a sob, tears slipping down your face.
“The whole time?” You asked, grabbing onto his hand with both of yours. “You knew the whole time?”
“I’m sorry.” He apologized, eyes falling to the hand you were holding. “I…You didn’t know when I met you. I didn’t want to risk…changing anything.” I didn’t want to risk losing you.
“I can’t believe…Here I thought I was your rebound.” You laughed, sniffling through your tears of relief. “I thought you were falling in love with me and I would be the asshole for getting a soulmate and breaking your heart. And it was me the whole time.”
“That’s why you were worried we wouldn’t be friends?” He asked softly.
You nodded, more tears falling when you remembered the way you’d felt day before.
“Oh, sweetheart…” He shook his head, wiping your tears away. “Honestly…I’m really glad we got to be friends first. Most soulmates don’t get that. It made me appreciate every moment with you even more. It was weird and hard, but…loving you was easy. Always has been. It was not telling you that was crushing me.”
“I can’t believe I didn’t put it together sooner…” You said, shaking your head. “All of those little moments…the reading chair, the Hunger Games marathon, the cabin…” Your heart ached remembering the night in the cabin. 
You remembered him sleeping against the wall in the infirmary after you’d been knocked unconscious, unwilling and unable to leave you alone when you were hurt. You remembered the bewildered look in his eyes when he thought you were dressed up for a date instead of Wanda’s birthday outing. The argument about whether or not you should go on the Red Room mission, when he was more worried about your safety than anything else, broken over the idea of something happening to you when he wasn’t there to help. The Lego set you’d spent hours building together, his hands so careful, fingers brushing against yours every so often. The mission in the Amazon, when the only thing he could think about while pseudo-drunk was you.
It was always you. It had always been you. 
“Steve…”
“Are we gonna be okay?” He asked quietly, watching you, searching your eyes for some flicker of disappointment. “It’s okay if you need time. I’d understand. It’s…well, it’s a lot to process.”
“I just…” You sighed, squeezing his hand. “I can’t believe I get to have you. I can’t believe you’re mine.”
“Believe it.” He said. He raised your hand, pressing a long kiss to your soulmark. “I love you, (Y/N) (L/N). I always have.”
“I love you too.” You confessed, earning that handsome smile he was so famous for. You couldn’t help but admire him, your supersoldier, the man that time had saved specifically for you. “I don’t need time. I just need you.”
You looked down at your new dress, realizing for the first time what it meant that you were still wearing it. You’d left your other clothes behind.
“Right. Before I forget.” Steve said, presenting a tattered, faded wad of fabric that had once been a shirt. “You left this at my place.”
You unfurled the fabric to find your missing Star Wars shirt, or what was left of it. You stared at it, dumbfounded. “You’ve had this the whole time?!”
“Took it everywhere with me.” He admitted. “Storming Hydra bases in Europe, Battle of New York, Sokovia, everywhere. I used to wear it, back when I was…you know, but it didn’t fit after my growth spurt. Sorry I couldn’t get it to you in better shape.”
“This is why you like Star Wars.” You realized, staring at it and looking back up at him.
“Yes.”
“Oh my god.” You laughed, shaking your head. You handed it back to him. “I think you need this more than I do, Steve. You can hold onto it for me if you want.”
He smiled, eyes soft. “You mean it?”
“Yeah, of course. I know it’s safe in your hands.”
Your shirt wasn’t the only thing that was safe in his hands. You were pretty sure, finally, that your heart was, too.
You stepped down from your footstool. Steve watched with an amused smile, chuckling.
“We had less of a height difference last night.” You reminded him, folding up the stool.
“I remember.” He reached for your hand and you gave it to him. He brought it to his lips, kissing each of your knuckles with care. “God, I missed this. I missed you so much, doll. Which is silly because you’ve been here, but…”
“I get it.” You reassured him, dropping his hands and wrapping your arms around him instead. 
He hugged you to his chest, resting his head against yours and letting out a long breath. You could tell he’d been holding it in for a long, long time.
***
Before you changed out of your forties look, Wanda insisted on a little photoshoot, which you were grateful for. Looking back, it would be fun to have pictures, even just as more proof that it had actually happened. Steve obviously sat in on some of the photos.
You asked some questions, of course, such as “who all knew?” The answer was everyone, but not until the night before when he’d finally come clean to the team. Before that, it had just been Bucky and Nat, and more recently, Sam.
Wanda claimed she had felt something, but never pried. Anyone could see it, though. Anyone with eyeballs. The way he looked at you had always been with love.
You changed into your dress for the party, necklace on display between your collarbones. You touched up your makeup a little bit, but left it. Bucky’s vintage lady friend had done a good job.
Tony showed up about an hour before the party was supposed to start, instructing the caterers. He stopped in his tracks, meeting your eyes with an apologetic smile. “Rogers tell you my side of the story?”
“He did.” You nodded. “And I appreciate you looking out for me. Kind of. In your own way.”
“And I am sorry, for the record. Maybe there would have been a way to bring it up without…you know.” Tony shrugged. “Happy birthday, kid. I’m glad it all worked out for you and the old-timer.”
You chuckled. “Thanks.”
“Got in touch with your parents. You were right. They’re off-planet. But I have their contact info if you want to…”
“Yeah, I’d really like that. Thank you, Tony.”
“Of course. I’ll get that all squared away.”
Steve walked up to you as Tony walked away, eyes landing on the necklace there. You realized, as he stared at it, that you’d been wearing it the night before. You hadn’t taken it off before bed.
“Is that what you meant when you said you had help picking it out?” You realized, putting the pieces together. “I thought you meant Natasha or something.”
“No, I uh…” He grinned, nodding. “I got a good look at it that night. You never said who gave it to you, but I figured it may as well be me.”
Steve was wearing a blue button-up, his nice black slacks that did everything for his legs. He’d shaved, combed his hair all neat. His hand settled on the small of your waist, pulling you closer to him.
You stood on your toes, hooking an arm around his neck and tugging him down for a kiss, lips melting against his. You felt his warm hand settle on your jaw, tilting your head just so. He smelled good, like his woodsy mahogany cologne. His breath was fresh, spearmint. And his lips were soft, confident but gentle.
His nose nuzzled yours, breath warm as it fanned across your cheeks. He met your eyes for a moment before pressing a kiss to your forehead, pulling you against him again. Now that he could touch you freely, he just couldn’t get enough.
“Bout time.” Bucky chuckled, walking into the room, Natasha’s hand in his. She looked great, wearing a nice red dress. “How are you two doing?”
“Great, Buck.” Steve replied, still not letting you go as he swayed. “I’m doin’ great. How are you, birthday girl?”
“It’s the best one I’ve had so far.” You said, echoing his words when you’d asked him the same question. You kissed him again, lips finding his easily.
He smiled, eyes sparkling. “I can’t believe this is happening.”
“Same here.” You told him. “I’ve had a crush on you since middle school. Imagine how I feel.”
“Middle school???” He asked, laughing.
“Yeah, why do you think I was crying at Air and Space Museum?”
“I was still in the ice!”
“Middle school girl crushes know no bounds, Captain Rogers.” Kate said, her and Yelena walking into the room next, more or less matching in their black dresses and purple and red accents. “I had plenty of crushes on old dead guys when I was in middle school. No offense.”
He laughed. “None taken.”
The party guests arrived in waves. The remainder of the team came, along with the extended family: Maria Hill, Jane Foster and her intern Darcy. A handful of your college friends came, buzzing about the prospect of being at the Avengers Compound, as well as the fact that you were an Avenger now, since most of them hadn’t seen you since that change had occurred.
You greeted them all as they came in, smiling and laughing and joking around like you did during the good old days. You introduced them to your new friends, your team. The playlist Steve had agonized over set the perfect tone. Some songs were upbeat and danceable, some were chill and slow, giving the couples in the room the chance to pair off and dance together.
During one of such songs, Steve offered his hand.
“Come on, let’s dance.”
“Like old times…” You murmured, hand sliding into his as he led you out onto the makeshift dancefloor.
Steve faced you, strong hand settling on your waist, the other still wrapped around yours. There was only one song it could be, of course. His favorite of the songs you had shown him thus far. He spun you around, face hovering just behind your ear, where he pressed a tender kiss before spinning you back around to face him.
“Even if we’d met on a crowded street in 1944, and you were headed off to fight in the war…”
“You still would have been mine, we would have been timeless…” You sang softly, meeting his eyes, the smile on your face matching his own. It was like Taylor had plucked the lyrics from your very heart.
“I think we kind of are.” He said, head nuzzled to yours, still swaying along to the song.
“Yeah, I think so too.” You replied.
When the song was over, Steve leaned in and asked, “Can I give you your presents now?”
“Yeah, of course.” You nodded.
He led you out of the room and down the hall to one of the conference rooms, where he’d stashed them earlier. There were four things waiting there. A medium box, a tiny box, and two easels covered with sheets.
He turned a chair around and motioned for you to sit, so you did. He handed you the bigger box first, and the infamous clinking sound gave it away before you could even get the wrapping paper off.
“Oh I think I know what this is.”
“I thought you might say that.” He chuckled. “I didn’t know if you had this one or not. I kept the receipt just in case…”
You tore the paper off to reveal a Lego set. It was Van Gogh’s Starry Night. “I don’t have this one yet. And I cannot wait to build it with you.”
“That makes two of us, doll.” He kissed your cheek, handing you the next present, the smaller one.
You tore the paper off to reveal a small velvet box. You gently lifted the lid and inside, there was a set of star earrings and a simple silver band. An eternity band, if you weren’t mistaken. Not an engagement ring, but it was a common gift for soulmates to give once they found each other, especially after they’d spent some time together.
“Oh, Steve…” You murmured, tears in your eyes. “They’re beautiful.”
“Can I?” He asked, kneeling down beside you and reaching for the ring.
“Yeah, of course.” You held out your hand and let him slide the band onto your finger. How he’d gotten your size, you didn’t know, but it fit perfectly.
“I’ve been thinking about doing this since 1943.” He confessed, hands lingering around your own.
“It’s still so crazy to me.” You sighed, shaking your head. You met his eyes. “You were in love with me before I even existed, before my parents were even born.”
“I know.” He nodded, pressing a kiss to your cheek, another to the corner of your lips. “When I woke up after the ice, I…I was lonely for a while. I spent a lot of days alone, learning, trying to figure out the new world I’d found myself in. I was kind of bitter. I didn’t know why it had happened to me…until I found you in the mall that day. And then I knew it wasn’t some accident. What happened to me was fate. You’re my destiny. Everything that happened led me straight to you and it was all worth it.”
“You can’t keep doing this to me.” You sighed, fingers intertwining with his.
“Doing what?”
You leaned your forehead against his, whispering, “Making me fall more in love with you.”
“No promises.” He laughed, kissing your lips and pulling you to your feet. “On my twenty-fifth, you said you didn’t know I was an artist and I promised I’d show you sometime.”
He pulled the sheet off of the first painting. It was you, glowing a brilliant blue, streaks of energy emanating from you like you were a star. Your eyes glowed, hair blew in the breeze. Behind you was a bright waypoint and zipping through the air was his shield, all of it captured in breathtaking oil painting. You wondered how long it had taken.
“This is so beautiful, Steve.” You rested your head against him, arm wrapped around his waist. “You made me look like a freaking goddess.”
“Well now you know how I see you.” He reached for the sheet covering the second painting, a little more careful with this one due to the age of it alone. “You might recognize this one.”
It was the painting from the antique shop, the soulmates dancing in Val’s. Now, with your new knowledge, you recognized them immediately. It was you and Steve. Always had been. Tears slipped down your cheeks and your hand covered your mouth, muffling your sobs. There was a time when you were afraid no one would ever love you as much as the blond-haired man loved the girl he was dancing with and it had been you all along.
But that little blond guy had painted it for you, not knowing whether or not you would ever get to see it.
You turned to Steve, standing on your toes to wrap your arms around his shoulders, head resting against his strong frame as you cried.
“I never stopped looking. Never.” Steve said, voice getting emotional. “Every base I went to, I met every nurse. At every coffee shop, I studied every college student in case you were there doing homework. Every time I went to the theater, I was scanning faces for yours. It became habit, looking for you. I…”
“You found me.” You said, pulling away to see his face. You brushed his tears away with a gentle thumb. “You found me, Steve.”
He surged forward, kissing you deeply, with a century of passion behind his lips. Your hand wandered into his soft blond hair, the other settling against his firm chest. His hands caressed your body, memorizing every curve and dip, lips chasing yours through every slight movement. And after, he pressed a dozen kisses to your cheeks, your forehead, your nose. You giggled, finally catching his lips again.
Your breaths were heavy when he finally pulled away; his, too. You straightened out the fabric of his dress shirt, pulling him back down for one last kiss. Then another. Then, really, one last one.
“I love you, Steve Rogers. Now, then, and always.”
“Now, then, and always.” He murmured, kissing you again.
The two of you cleaned yourselves up before returning to the rest of the party. You blew out your candles and made your wish, for an eternity side by side with him, that wherever life took the two of you, it took you there together.
You had a slice of cake and some ice cream, sitting on the couch next to Steve, legs draped over his. He used his thumb to dab a little frosting onto the tip of your nose. You smeared frosting across his cheek with yours, which made him laugh.
After, there was one last song before most of the guests would be headed home for the night. As soon as the instrumental kicked in, you got emotional. It had been your last song with Steve the night before, a song that had been written about those going off to war, their futures as uncertain as the stars were numerous.
For Steve, it held a different meaning. He’d known then that his time with you was running out. He had no idea when he’d see you again, just that it would be a long time and that the version of you he met wouldn’t even know him yet, that it might be years before he got to kiss you again.
And so, the two of you danced as you had the night before, on Steve’s twenty-fifth and on yours, your face tucked against his, his arms wrapped tight around you as you swayed gently to the music.
“We’ll meet again. Don’t know where, don’t know when, but I know we’ll meet again some sunny day…”
Tags: @cap-lu20
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marsbabysblog · 10 months
Note
OMG im so happy your back! You're one of my favorite writers 🫶. Also very excited that you write for bucky 🤭
Can I request just some general dating hcs for bucky? Sfw or nsfw (or both I won't complain 🙏)
Have a good day/night!
omg tysm 🤭 bucky is so bbg I did both SFW + NSFW
Also —> I did do these HC with civil war/long hair bucky. Like before TFAWS
SFW
• Sometime when your talking to him, he’ll space out and just look at you like your the most perfect thing in the world (because to him, you are)
• He remembers all the small things. For example: during the summer, he noticed you tend to lose your hair ties and get frustrated when you can’t find one (because it’s hot and your hair makes it worse) so at some point he started having hair ties around his wrist for whenever you need one and forget to bring extras :)
• He really REALLY loves baked goods. Like pancakes, muffins, cookies, you name it. He would never openly talk about it, of course, but it brings him back to when he was just an innocent kid. So pls bake cookies with him or smth 🥺 you’ll see his inner child heal.
NSFW
• Listen I love soft dom Bucky and all but truly I think this man is a hard fucking dom. He has super solider stamina and he’s horny a lot (he didn’t get action for like 98 years, he’s desperate)
• But I can also see his being a sub, definitely a brat. You’ll have to gag him, pull his hair, and tie his arms back to even get him to consider listening. But if you overstim him enough he’ll drift into sub space and be the cutest thing ever :(
• After sex he can get really fucking clingy. Like he’ll immediately just hug you and won’t let go just to make sure your real :( He really loves you and all he wants to do is protect you and make you happy, so he’s absolutely a giver during sex. Pls surprise him with wearing some hot lingerie 🙏
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thatsmzbitchtoyou · 1 month
Text
Breaking the Class Ceiling Chapter 2
This is set in early 1900s U.S.A., during the Edwardian era with some style changes into the upcoming Art Nouveau period. I've changed history a bit for this. Pretending that America didn't have a full Civil War and trying to create a more optimistic outcome for the purposes of the story. I've also tried to research what the rules for society/socializing were back then, and tweaked some of them.
Warnings for upcoming chapters: minor character death, some sexual harassment/assault (but nothing too graphic or traumatic), smut
***
You did what?!” George Barnes exclaimed. Bucky had gotten home late and reported everything to his father.
“What? You did something similar to Mama, didn’t you? And it worked! You married her!” Bucky explained.
“Yes, but at a great personal cost to her. She lost all the backing of her family, and we struggled for money and status,” George replied tiredly.
“I was trying to make an impression so she would remember me. She is going to send a card, an invitation to us to come visit and see her greenhouse.”
George gaped at him, his mouth flapping like a fish.
“Come now, Papa, this is a good thing! She may be rich but she’s not uppity or holier-than-thou. And she wants to show you her tropical plants,” he finished, waggling his eyebrows at his father.
George hesitantly smiled, “Tropical plants? How interesting,” he mused. “But I am still upset with you. That was a huge gamble to take, and in such a public place with high society.”
Bucky smirked. “And yet here we are,” he spread his arms wide. “With an official invitation and an excited host. Sometimes a little scandal is good. And I like her,” he looked away, blushing. “She’s…different.”
***
Three days later they received the invitation. You had insisted in the invitation that they meet casually, but George was beside himself, pulling out different outfits until he found one he decided was good enough to wear to meet you.
“Papa, she’s not the Queen of England,” Bucky said exasperatedly.
“No, but she was made a lady by her. And she is America’s princess,” George replied, adjusting his bowtie again. “Her mother and your mother were good friends, you know? She sent a letter of condolences when Winnie died, and I sent her one when her parents passed. I revere her, Buck, and she deserves respect.”
Bucky sighed as he thought about his mother. Winifred Barnes was as good as they came. When she passed the funeral was packed. The community had lined the streets, throwing flowers at her casket as it was brought to the cemetery. It had been difficult for Bucky when she died, but he was comforted in knowing that she had been so appreciated and loved.
“I understand, Papa. Now come, let’s get going. Her car is here.”
“Oh! Let’s be off!” George almost ran out the door.
When they pulled up to the house the flowers from the party were gone and replaced with vines that had peculiar flowers hanging from them. As they exited the car George gasped at the flower.
“Bucky! Do you know what this is?” he asked.
“No, it’s strange, isn’t it?” Bucky replied, watching his father go up to a vine hanging down by the front door.
“This is the lamprocapnos spectabilis, also known as a bleeding heart,” he spoke reverently as he gently inspected the flowers. “They originate from parts of Asia, I wonder how she got them here?”
“Very carefully, Mr. Barnes,” your voice lilted through the air behind them.
Bucky whipped around, a smile brightening his face as he took you in. You were much more casually dressed today in what could be considered bed clothes: a long, off-white night robe over a strapped smock dress. Your hands were covered in gardening gloves that you were quickly taking off, sweat on your brow, your hair in a loose braid that swung over your shoulder, and barefoot.
“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Barnes,” you continued, reaching your hand out to him in greeting.
“The pleasure is mine, Miss Y/L/N,” George took your hand, bringing it up to his mouth for a quick kiss.
“Oh, so it runs in the family,” you joked, flashing Bucky smile. He blushed and looked down.
“I do apologize for my son’s brashness, Miss Y/L/N. I am a bad example to him,” George interjected.
“No apologies needed, I enjoy causing a scene. Makes life more exciting!” you giggled. You turned to Bucky, reaching your hand out to him for a greeting. He quickly took it but did not kiss your knuckles this time, feeling put on the spot about his actions from before.
“Hm, no kiss this time, Bucky?” you pouted, your fingers squeezing his minutely.
Bucky chuckled, then decided to have fun and cause the scene you wanted. He leaned in towards your face, swerving to the side to kiss your cheek quickly and pulled back. Your eyes were wide, your lips fighting a big smile and your fingers squeezing harder. George gasped lightly next to you.
“It’s good to see you again, Y/N,” Bucky greeted you, squeezing your fingers back and then letting them fall.
You gave him a small hum, then twirled around to the door. “Come Mr. Barnes! I’ve been told you have quite the green thumb.”
You took George’s arm and led them both into the house. After walking through the front entrance and the ballroom, George looking around wildly as you chatted him up, you kept walking forward through the doors you’d entered at the party then took a sharp left. George was huffing as he tried to keep up, Bucky chuckling at his effort. As they walked through another set of doors the room was doused in sunlight. It was large and open, glass windows insulating what looked like hundreds of plants. Some were like trees, reaching high and almost touching the glass ceiling, while others were stout sitting in pots on tables. George gasped loudly as they entered, his eyes flitting around and trying to take in everything. Bucky gawked at the amount of plants, almost all of them looking more tropical and exotic then the next. He wasn’t a green thumb like his father, but he appreciated the amount of time, care, and money it took to get all of these here.
“My my, Miss Y/L/N, this is…” George trailed off, his arm tightening around yours. “How? These are all so…my god,” he couldn’t form a full sentence.
“I’m glad you like it,” you cheered, your hand holding his and squeezing it tightly. “Oh! I have to introduce you to someone,” you steered them over to a man that was hidden amongst the plants. As they approached he straightened up and dusted off his hands. He had olive toned skin, dark brown eyes and a full black beard, a white turban atop his head, and a floor length dress that matched the colors of the green plants around him. He gave them all a polite smile.
“Mr. Barnes, Bucky,” you pointed to each of them, “this is Amir Habib. He’s my good friend and gardener. He hails from an area in the Ottoman empire called Falasteen, or on our maps, Palestine,” you explained.
“Hello, as-salaam 'alaikum,” Amir greeted them as he bowed at the waist, then stepped forward, extending his hand to each man in turn. After the greetings he turned back towards the plants.
“Amir, would you please show Mr. Barnes around? He is quite interested in plants.”
Amir’s eyes lit up as he looked at George again. “Yes of course, Mr. Barnes, where would you like to start?”
“Anywhere!” George laughed, following Amir as they walked further into the greenhouse, leaving you and Bucky behind.
You turned to Bucky with a wide smile. “I’m sure they’ll be busy for a while, I’d like to show you something else if you don’t mind?”
Bucky nodded, following her out of the greenhouse and back into the main house. She walked through the halls into what looked like a study, ushering Bucky inside and shutting the door behind him, then walking to the desk by the bay window. He stood and waited for her to instruct him, looking around at all the books and papers. It was a little messy, reminding him of his office at work, but something about it was endearing amongst the grand decor.
“Ah, here it is,” you announced, pulling a book from one of the drawers. “Come, sit with me,” you instructed and led him to a couch near the fireplace across the room from the desk. He followed you and sat an appropriate distance away from you, which you ignored and sat closer to him. You opened the book, flipping through a few pages before landing on one and handing the book over to him. He took it and upon realizing what he was looking at almost dropped it. It was a photograph book, multiple different black and white images staring back up at him. And on this particular page was a larger photo of two young women, both beautiful and smiling softly. He didn’t recognize the one on the left, but the one on the right was his mother.
Her eyes were bright, the smile she wore lopsided, her hands intertwined with the woman’s next to her. She was dressed in the style of the time, a large hat on her head and pearls around her throat. She was much younger than he could ever remember seeing her, and he’d never seen those pearls before. This must have been before she married his father.
“That’s my mother,” you pointed to the woman on the left, speaking quietly. Bucky focused on the other woman briefly. Yes, he could tell it was your mother. You were almost the spitting image of her but with a differently shaped face and differently colored hair, thanks to your father. He could feel himself smiling as he gazed at the picture.
“They’re beautiful,” he whispered, one of his fingers running gently across the face of his mother.
You hummed in agreement. “My mother always spoke in such kindness about your mother. Always hoped that we’d be able to come home someday and call upon her, but my father was always so busy in England and preferred it there. They were childhood friends. She called her her soulmate,” she said wistfully. “She was inconsolable when she heard about Winifred passing,” she added quietly. “Wouldn’t get out of bed for weeks. And then when she died a couple of years later, all I could think of was how at least now she gets to spend the afterlife with her soulmate.”
Bucky didn’t realize he was crying until he felt your fingers swipe along his cheek. He looked up at you, and saw you were blinking back unshed tears.
“Thank you, Y/N, for letting me see this. I had almost forgotten what she looked like,” he said, looking back at the picture.
“Of course. I’ve already commissioned a local painter to do a portrait of her from this photograph so I can give you a copy,” you said matter-of-factly.
Bucky’s eyes widened as he looked back up at you, his mouth hanging open. “Oh, you don’t have to do that Y/N, really,” he retorted, wiping away his tears and facing towards her.
“Pish posh, yes I do,” you waved him off then took one of his hands in yours and fully faced him. “It’s the least I could do.”
“I feel like I need to do something for you,” Bucky replied, looking down bashfully at your intertwined hands.
“Can you not accept a gift? Just because someone wants to give you something doesn’t mean you owe them anything in return, Bucky,” you chastised him, eyes earnestly boring into his.
He snorted. “That’s very kind of you, Y/N, and I appreciate the gift. I just don’t have a great history with people who have helped me and then not expected something back, or favors.”
“That’s unfortunate,” you said sadly. “How about this, I will give this to you, and you can do something for me?”
“Like what?” he asked hesitantly.
“I want you to…” you trailed off, looking around the room and thinking about it. “Hm, two things.”
“Oh dear,” he huffed.
“It’s nothing bad, I promise,” you laughed. “What I want is one: for you to accompany me to Mrs. Romanov’s invitation to see the vaudeville show. She said she knows you and would love to have you?” she asked questioningly. Bucky’s smile dropped at the name. “Oh, you do know her…and well apparently?” you asked, a sly smile on your face.
Bucky huffed again. “Yes, we um, were courting once. We’re still friends, of course,” he added.
You nodded in understanding. “But she married someone else.”
“Yes,” he said curtly.
You eyed him for a moment, dropping his hand. “Do you still love her?”
“No! No no,” Bucky quickly reassured you. “No, I’m sorry, my reply made it seem so. It’s just that I…uh,” he wrung his hands.
You stood up suddenly and walked to the chair that faced the couch, taking a seat. “Bucky, if it isn’t obvious to you yet let me make myself abundantly clear,” you started, setting your hands in your lap, one of the sleeves of your robe falling down and exposing your shoulder. Bucky watched it fall, quickly flicking his eyes back up to yours when you didn’t immediately fix it. You eyed him ruefully, leaving the sleeve and pursing your lips. “I am not a lover of propriety and etiquette, as I’m sure you have been able to ascertain. I find it incredibly stifling. I do not enjoy watching my words and actions, and so I will speak plainly and frankly. I am a wealthy woman, and therefore I can get away with sherking societal norms and expectations, whereas most other women don't have the same luxury. I can marry whomever I want without the permission or acceptance of any other men in my life, as much as that pains my uncle. If it hasn’t been made clear, and as I’ve said before, I enjoy your candor,” you reminded him. Your eyes never left him as you spoke. “I enjoy when others can meet me where I’m at, speak plainly with me and make their intentions clear. I do not play courting games. You made your intentions clear at the party, and although it caused a stir, I liked it,” your eyes brightened at the memory. Bucky swallowed harshly. “I came home because I’m getting older, and need to find someone to make a life with, create a family with to hand down my fortune and help me make a difference in this world. Out of all the men I’ve met over the past few weeks since coming home, the one that I find most interesting and enjoyable, is you.” Bucky could feel his heart thumping wildly as he listened. She liked him, too. “I know that your association with me gives you and your father a leg up in society, and that it gives you clout and opens doors for you. If we were to court, it would be a great advantage to you. I’m under no pretense to how this looks, and I quite frankly don’t care. Now if you still hold a candle for another woman, married or not, now is the time to tell me so that I may move on and look elsewhere. I don’t want to waste my time,” you ended briskly, looking away to the fireplace as you leaned back into the chair.
Bucky quickly stood and walked to where you sat, kneeling down before you and taking your hands into his. “No, Y/N, no I don’t love her. I did at one point, but no longer. My reaction is solely based on the fact that, as you said, any union I make must be advantageous to me, otherwise my father and I will struggle til our dying days. I courted her hoping for that and was ultimately rejected because of my class, so it’s merely my own frustration getting the better of me. I did act brashly at your party, and it was on purpose to catch your attention, but I agree that it’s suffocating, and I feel free with you to express myself fully. I don’t want to waste your time,” he finished, his fingers rubbing your knuckles.
You watched him, delighting in his kneeling form before you. You smirked, leaning forward in the chair towards him. Bucky willed himself not to move, letting you get close to his face, swallowing harshly again.
“So you’ll come with me to the show?” you asked playfully.
“Yes,” he answered.
“Hm,” you hummed, then your eyes slowly looked him up and down. He felt like he was melting under your stare. “Now for my second request,” you reminded him. “I want to court you.”
Bucky felt like the air was being sucked from his lungs. You waited for him to process your proposal. He felt a smirk come to his face now.
“You sure you want to court a clerk?” he teased.
You laughed loudly at him, falling back into the chair again, your hands dropping his and holding your chest as you giggled gleefully. He enjoyed watching you laugh so freely, his hands resting on the chair cushion beside your knees as you collected yourself.
“Yes, I’m sure,” you said, leaning back up towards him.
“Then I say yes, my lady,” he smiled widely at you.
You grimaced. “Ugh, no, please don’t call me that, just my name will suffice.”
“As much as I enjoy calling you by your name, in public as we court it might do us well to call each other something else, a pet name, don’t you think?” Bucky interjected.
“You think so? Like what? Should I call you my dear?” you reached out and tucked a hair behind his ear. He shivered at the tickle of your fingers against his skin. “Or…my darling?” you purred, your fingers slipping to his jaw. Bucky’s eyes shut tight, his hands balling into fists beside your legs. “Ah, my darling, it suits you,” you scratched the stubble on his chin. “What will you call me?”
Bucky breathed slowly through his nose trying to calm himself. He didn’t realize that a pet name would have such an effect on him. He opened his eyes and met your stare. Your eyes were shining mirthfully, the smirk still on your face.
“What words could possibly do you justice?” Bucky spoke slowly. The smirk on your face dropped. “All the pretty words I could think of would not be enough to describe what I think of you. Would you prefer my beloved?” he slid one of his hands to your knee, squeezing the flesh of your lower thigh. You gasped lightly, your eyes following his movements. “My intended?” he slid his other hand over your other knee, mirroring his actions from before. Your hands fell to cover his. “Or something more intimate. Maybe, my pretty doll?” Your face scrunched into something that screamed lust, your fingers gripping your legs as he started to slide his hands down, hooking them around your calves and tickling the back of your legs. Your faces were dangerously close now as you stared into each others’ eyes. Bucky looked from your eyes to your lips, a smirk now on his face. “That’s it, my pretty doll.” He leaned in and gave you a kiss on the cheek like before but this time precariously close to your mouth, letting his lips stay on your skin longer. You followed his lips slightly as he pulled away.
“We should go check on my father,” he whispered, his fingers still tickling your legs.
You closed your eyes, your hands now in fists as you evened out your breathing, trying to regain control.
“Yes,” you sighed, obviously frustrated, “wouldn’t want anyone thinking something untoward is happening.”
“Yes, but no,” Bucky chuckled as he pulled his hands away and rocked back on his feet. “I need to end this teasing torture before I do something that I shouldn’t.”
Your eyes twinkled as you opened them at his insinuation, a coy smile on your lips as you stood from the chair. “Ah, I see. Well come then, my darling, before I tempt you to sin. We must announce our courtship.”
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captainwidowspring · 10 months
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A Thorough Analysis of Civil War's First Trailer
So I was inspired by this post to watch the first Civil War trailer, and I was intrigued, for the trailer seemed to promise a much better movie than what we actually got. Therefore, I decided to compare stuff in that trailer to stuff in the finished movie, and what I found was very revealing. For Civil War, despite the title, is very much not a Captain America movie: and this trailer provides some insights into how it came to be so. It offers multiple insights into what we were robbed of, and how exactly the movie was maliciously turned against Steve and his friends. Indeed, the sheer extent to which the movie has been twisted is truly enraging. This is going to be rather long, so get ready:
The first thing that is shown in the trailer is the scene of Steve, Bucky, and Sam in the warehouse after Bucky wakes up. Steve asks pleadingly, "Buck, do you remember me?" And after Bucky gives his response, Steve is shown with an expression of pure relief and joy and hope. This is in sharp contrast to what we got in the actual movie. In the actual movie, Steve asks almost accusingly, "Which Bucky am I talking to?": and his expression after Bucky's answer is significantly muted. It is clear that the change here was done to both downplay Steve and Bucky's relationship, and try to make Bucky less sympathetic. First of all, Steve went from "Buck" to "Bucky" which while still a nickname is much less familiar. Second of all, the change in question is quite telling. The original question—"Do you remember me?"—is very eager and hopeful, and indicates a clear trust that Bucky is not dangerous. The new question, on the other hand—"Which Bucky am I talking to?"—is much more resigned, and implies that there is a good chance that Bucky is dangerous and not in control of himself.
There is another difference between the two clips that is quite noteworthy. In the trailer, right after Steve says "Buck," there is a pause, and a nicely centered, well-lit shot of Bucky looking attentively at Steve is shown before he continues. In the finished movie, however, Bucky is not shown until Steve finishes his question: and the shot of Bucky is noticeably darker, and he is crammed into the side of the frame, and unlike the trailer his face is turned away from the camera and obscured by his hair. This was clearly done to try to make Bucky seem more dangerous, and prevent the audience from trusting him.
The trailer conversation continues as follows:
Steve: You're a wanted man.
Bucky: I don't do that anymore.
Steve: Well the people who think you did are coming right now. And they're not planning on taking you alive.
Once again, this is in sharp contrast to the conversation in the finished movie:
Sam: Just like that, we're supposed to be cool?
Bucky: What did I do?
Steve: Enough.
Bucky: Oh, God, I knew this would happen. Everything Hydra put inside me is still there. All he had to do was say the godd—n words.
It's clear that the change here was once again to make Bucky less sympathetic. Intriguingly, based on the trailer, it seems like the words might originally have been less of a factor, and Bucky ended up in the warehouse for a different reason. But besides that, the conversation is also much more compassionate. Bucky was given a chance to explicitly say, "I don't do that anymore," confirming that he has thoroughly rejected what Hydra tried to make him into, and Steve's subsequent response—"the people who think you did are coming right now,"—emphasizes Bucky's innocence and the fact that he is being targeted and endangered for something he didn't do. This is not brought up in conversation in the finished movie, however. Bucky is not allowed to bring up the fact that he's not the Winter Soldier anymore, and the fact that he is being wrongfully hunted is ignored as well. Instead Sam immediately asks, "Just like that, we're supposed to be cool?"—as if Bucky had done something wrong when he was literally just mind controlled—and when Steve tells Bucky that he did "Enough," which emphasizes Bucky's guilt rather than his innocence, Bucky responds, "Everything Hydra put inside me is still there," which clearly implies that he has not in fact changed at all from his Winter Soldier days.
But what's really interesting is that dialogue that is very similar to the warehouse conversation actually does appear in the finished movie, just in a different place: in the apartment in Bucharest. Here is that conversation, with Sam's comments removed for clarity:
Steve: You know me?
Bucky: You're Steve. I read about you in a museum.
Steve: I know you're nervous. And you have plenty of reason to be. But you're lying.
Bucky: I wasn't in Vienna. I don't do that anymore.
Steve: Well the people who think you did are coming here now. And they're not planning on taking you alive.
This indicates a substantial reshuffling of scenes, because much of that dialogue was clearly intended to be in the warehouse; we have several clear shots of Steve in the warehouse speaking those lines. Also, Steve's line changes from "coming right now" to "coming here now" which implies that in the first instance, the pursuers didn't know their location, and if they were in the warehouse that would make sense. So this doesn't seem to be just a case of the trailer being intentionally misleading. And, just as with the changes to the warehouse conversation, these changes afforded the movie a chance to downplay Steve and Bucky's relationship and cast doubt on Bucky. For example, Steve's earnest "Buck, do you remember me?" has been changed to just a flat, quick "You know me?" The question has been altered to make it much less personal, and to deemphasize their history. Also, Bucky being allowed to say that he's not the Winter Soldier anymore is now moved to before the events of the warehouse, so that once the words become a factor the movie can continue to insinuate that he's dangerous. In addition, while Steve is still allowed to draw some measure of attention to Bucky's innocence, Bucky immediately responds to the revelation that he's being wrongfully attacked with "That's smart. Good strategy," so that his attackers receive a measure of validation also. It certainly did not seem like he was going to respond thus in the warehouse; if he had, it would have been an abrupt and jarring change of tone. The clear and concerted attempt to slander Bucky, and Steve by proxy for believing in him, is quite heinous.
The next thing that does not appear in the finished movie comes a little bit later. There is a clip where Bucky is shown for a second before a car passes him and then he disappears—the background is clearly Bucharest—and then it cuts to Steve looking out a window in Lagos. Given the discrepancy of location, as well as the fact that Lagos came before Bucharest, this might just have been the trailer being intentionally misleading. After all, following The Winter Soldier many people wanted to see more of Steve and Bucky's relationship, and Marvel knew of this: but since with everything else that went on in Civil War there wasn't much time for that, they might have put some quick extra footage in the trailer to lure people in.
However, it is also equally possible that this was something that actually was supposed to be in the movie but then got cut. After all, based on the warehouse dialogue, some scenes did get reshuffled: and later in the trailer we are shown Steve jumping off a truck to get a boost into the building instead of being lifted up by Wanda, and there are more assailants when he gets in the building, and there does not appear to be any gas. In addition, unlike the second trailer we are not given any hints of Rumlow's explosion, so it's possible that Lagos was not originally meant to be the inciting incident for the Accords, and that it did actually originally come after Steve saw Bucky in Bucharest. And indeed, the footage the trailer gives of Steve looking out that window never appeared in the final film; he is clearly looking out the window quite yearningly, not in the cool and collected manner of someone gathering information for a mission. So either Lagos was a scene that got moved in the reshuffling, or that footage was shot with the sole intention of tricking people into thinking Civil War would feature more of Steve and Bucky's relationship.
The next difference can be seen in a bit of audio. Natasha says, "I know how much Bucky means to you," unlike in the movie where she says, "I know how much Barnes means to you." And this appears to have been a change that was made fairly late in the game: in the movie, Scarlett Johansson pauses briefly before saying "Barnes" indicating that this was not what she was used to saying. Such a change once again intentionally serves to try to distance the audience from Bucky, and make them care about him less. So we're seeing a clear pattern here.
The next change is significantly more alarming. While Natasha is saying, "Stay out of this one. Please," a shot of Steve standing where he went after he found out about Peggy's death is shown. Now, there are two things this could mean: either 1) Marvel knew that people wanted to see more of Steve and Bucky’s relationship in Civil War, but since the end product didn’t have much to offer they put an unrelated scene in the trailer to trick people, or 2) that scene actually was originally intended to be about Bucky, and Peggy’s funeral was something that was added later. It's hard to tell which one it could be. Again, it is possible that this was done with the express intention of tricking people. However, again, it is also possible that this was something that got changed. Steve looks much more clearly upset in the movie than the trailer: and it's entirely possible that Steve's message on the phone was supposed to be something about Bucky, and Peggy's funeral was something that ended up replacing this. After all, it's not like Peggy's funeral had much impact on the plot; its main purpose appeared to be to both remind people that Steve was supposed to have had a romance with Peggy, and to set up his romance with Sharon. (And none of this was hinted at in the trailer.) Stucky shippers have long speculated that the Staron romance in Civil War was fueled by gay panic, and it appears that they might have been right. Whatever the situation was, however, such shenanigans are truly despicable and disgusting.
(Shortly afterwards, in response to an argument Tony made about the Accords, Steve is heard saying "That's not the way I see it," and this is immediately followed by Tony saying "Sometimes I want to punch you in your perfect teeth." I don’t think this was intentional, but such an exchange perfectly sums up how Tony acts for pretty much the entire movie.)
Soon afterward is another interesting change. Footage from the scene in Bucharest where the police in the helicopter shoot at T’Challa and Bucky is shown, but then instead of T’Challa and Bucky, the target appears to be Steve. The clip that is supplied here is clearly from the portion of the movie that includes Bucky meeting Zemo and Bucky's subsequent escape, based on the clothes Steve is wearing, as well as the fact that it looks like Steve is in front of the damaged helicopter. It looks like the helicopter is hanging off the launch pad with the front end sticking up, and there is a bullet hole in the front window. Now, this is quite distinctly not from the finished movie; the helicopter is not pierced by bullets in the film, and it is never seen hanging in such a position. However, more footage from the finished movie is shown immediately afterward; Steve is shown pushing himself up after a bunch of excitement, and the helicopter is behind him on its side. Given this, I'm not sure why the other clip was in there. For even then it doesn’t seem like they were planning on using it, and it is very different from what happens in the movie, with the biggest difference being that Steve and Bucky are alone on the roof. I guess maybe they wanted to make it seem more like Hydra might be involved somehow, because that would make it somewhat more of a sequel to The Winter Soldier than the actual movie was, and a sequel to The Winter Soldier was what people were expecting. So again, either Civil War really was originally going to be more of a Captain America movie, or that footage was shot with the sole intent of deception.
Shortly afterward there is another interesting clip. It is very brief, but there is a shot of Bucky running with a terrified expression on his face, followed by a spray of bullets on the ground, presumably what he is running from. This was seemingly supposed to be part of the Bucharest chase sequence. Once again, however, it does not appear in the finished movie. We are actually given very few shots of Bucky's face throughout the finished chase sequence, and in all but one of these he looks determined rather than afraid. This isn't necessarily a bad thing, but considering all the other Bucky slander the movie ended up having, it does not feel like this was done with good intentions. Bucky is apparently not allowed to feel fear—he can only be determined or startled—because if he was allowed to be afraid, more people in the audience might realize that he has feelings too, that he wasn't having a very good time of it either, and the wrongness of the situation might be emphasized. All of which is stuff Civil War was apparently allergic to, in its quest to treat him like dangerous damaged goods. It seems like once again this was a thing to show Bucky's side of the story that was purposely taken away.
Following this there are two more indications that Lagos might have originally been substantially different. One is the fact that, shortly after Steve’s “We fight,” line is heard, a few clips of Natasha’s scenes in Lagos are shown. This sort of implies that she was going to help him with the aforementioned fight. Again, this might have just been the trailer being misleading: but since there were already several scenes that indicated that Natasha was going to be opposed to Steve for some portion of the movie—Steve asking her, “Are you going to arrest me?”, her line, “you know what’s about to happen, do you really want to punch your way out of this?” and the fact that she was not in Team Cap’s charge—it’s not like the fact that she wasn’t with Steve for a large part of the movie was going to be a surprise. The trick here would just be making people believe that at some point she was going to rejoin Steve and fight with him, instead of turning on Team Iron Man at the last minute and then disappearing from the movie shortly afterward. But if it wasn’t a trick, maybe Lagos actually was originally supposed to come later in the movie, and she was going to be reunited with Steve for that.
The other possible indication is the fact that another bit of deleted footage is shown. Steve is seen running and then an explosion goes off, and based on the background he is in the spot where in the movie he gets blown out of the building by Rumlow: but that does not happen in the trailer, the brunt of the explosion misses him and he is able to keep running. (And him getting blown out of the building is shown in the second trailer.) This is a further implication that Lagos might originally have been different. I guess if it was, the question is whether at the time of the trailer's release they were still intending to use that footage, or if they had already decided not to but showed it anyway.  
The final change is the fact that footage from a deleted scene (that we have access to) shows up in the trailer. Now, bits of deleted scenes being featured in trailers is not unheard of, and the clip itself doesn’t really show much; all it shows is Natasha on top of a storage container watching an explosion. However, comparing that clip with deleted clips from other trailers is quite revealing. In the second Iron Man 2 trailer, for example, two clips from deleted scenes are shown; one from the deleted opening where Pepper kisses Tony’s helmet, and one from the deleted scene where Tony is with Natasha at the party. It is not surprising that these scenes got cut, though, because the ideas these clips’ scenes conveyed were also expressed elsewhere. We got plenty of other Tony and Pepper interactions that showed their dynamic, and the same is the case with Tony and Natasha. However, in the scene the clip in the Civil War trailer is from, Natasha sees how violent the rest of Team Iron Man is being and becomes upset; presumably, seeing this pointless violence is why she later switched sides. But in the movie, no similar indications are given for her change of heart. In the movie it’s framed like she was fully intending to stop Steve, but then realized at the last second that she couldn’t and let him go. So while Iron Man 2 got rid of clips that were fairly redundant, Civil War got rid of a clip that would have supplied valuable information. And the lack of that valuable information appears to be an intentional effort to stifle Team Cap's side of the story, and prevent Team Iron Man from looking bad.
That is all the changes there are, but there is one other thing. One of the last things shown in the trailer is the "He's my friend/So was I," exchange. This is also what is said in the movie: but the fact that the trailer so prominently featured Steve and Bucky's relationship helps highlight just how ridiculous that exchange is. I wonder if that is another reason why Bucky and Steve's relationship was so carefully downplayed.
Now, again, considering that this is just a trailer, it is hard to tell how much of the stuff that was shown was originally supposed to be in the movie, and how much of it was the trailer being purposely misleading. After all, trailers are deceitful all the time, and the second trailer was also cut in deceptive ways. However, unlike the first trailer it does not show anything that is substantially different from the finished movie: so considering the abundance of unused footage in the first trailer, there very well might have been significant changes made after that trailer's release. Indeed, this film was supposed to be a sequel to The Winter Soldier before it became Iron Man 4, so it might have originally been less of a clown show. A sequel to The Winter Soldier is certainly what most people were expecting. It’s just hard to tell whether there had originally been more of an effort to make one, or whether the trailer was just stringing people along.
In conclusion, looking at the differences between the first Civil War trailer and the actual movie is quite revealing. The Russos said in the director's commentary that in making the film, the hardest thing for them to do was "to balance the characters, and constantly recalibrate, through the writing, through the acting, through editorial, to make sure you could walk out of the movie, and really be conflicted,”: and even with the few changes the first trailer gives us insight into, it is clear that this involved arranging things to purposely minimize Steve and Bucky's relationship, curtailing Bucky's role in the movie and making him look as unfavorable as possible, and deleting things that would either make Team Iron Man look bad or make Team Cap more sympathetic. Civil War was billed as a Captain America film, but considering how deliberately the movie was turned against him and his friends, it is quite clear how untrue that is.
Truly, it is exceedingly tragic that the third Captain America movie was turned into the Iron Man 4 mess it ended up being, when it should have been a continuation of everything that was set up in The Winter Soldier. And based on the fact that the first trailer seemed to promise those things, as well as the fact that even the second trailer was cut to make it look like Bucky would have a bigger role and Natasha would reunite with Steve (though Sam was largely left out), the makers of Civil War knew exactly where they were falling short. But unfortunately, they made no efforts to repair such deficiencies, and even now we are still waiting for Cap 3.
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jessybarnes · 1 year
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Unintentional Distraction
Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Reader 
Rating: 18+ Only!! Minors DNI!!
Tags: NSFW TITLE CARD!!!!, SMUT, filthy shameless smut (Lord help me if Sebastian ever sees this lmao.), fluff, Sebastian’s hands (is that a warning?), some talk about Civil War but I don't think there are any spoilers, fingering, squirting, multiple orgasms, oral (male receiving), unprotected sex, slight degradation, slight dom/sub, name-calling, hair pulling, biting, choking, overstimulation, explicit language, crying, teasing, and I think that's it. 
Word Count: 3,805
Beta: T. Thompson 
Title Card: Yours Truly 
A/N: This was based on yet another TikTok and the encouragement of my amazing friend @madashatters18
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It was way too early for your phone to be ringing, so you couldn't be blamed for the slight irritation in your voice. It was your day off and all you wanted to do was sleep past eight in the morning. 
"Hello?" 
So much for that.
"Y/N/N? I'm sorry to wake you up, love. I need to ask you a huge favor though."
You squinted at your alarm clock, propping yourself up on your right arm. "Sara? 'S like six-thirty. What's wrong?"
She sighed and took a moment before responding. "You know that Marvel panel I was supposed to attend today?"
You groaned and sat up against your headboard, "you need me to go and film it for you, don't you?" 
Sara gave a sound of affirmation as you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes. "You owe me. Where is it and what time do I need to be there?"
She squealed and you were suddenly thankful you had her on speakerphone. "Thank you thank you thank you! The panel starts at noon and it's at the Hyatt Regency hotel. The one right outside of downtown." 
You hung up with her and set an alarm for nine before sliding back underneath your covers. If you were going to endure a thirty-minute long panel with a room full of people then you needed more sleep. 
Two and a half hours later you reluctantly crawled out of bed and shuffled to your bathroom. A hot shower and six outfit choices later, you finally decided to wear your black cocktail dress and a pair of red stilettos. You straightened your hair and applied some makeup before grabbing your red clutch. Checking to make sure you had your driver's license, debit card, chapstick, and cellphone, you locked up and took the elevator down to your car. 
Traffic was light and before you knew it you'd parked in the hotel's parking garage. The gentleman at the front desk gave you your credentials and a seat number, which happened to be in the middle of the front row. 
Great, I'm gonna be right in their line of sight. 
Taking your seat, you crossed one leg over the other and prepared your phone so it was ready to record. It was about ten minutes until noon and the conference room was buzzing with activity. There were four chairs spaced evenly, and a man with dark hair and glasses sat on stage right with a microphone in his hand. He smiled at the crowd and gestured to the empty chairs.
"Please welcome the directors of Captain America: Civil War, Anthony Russo, Joe Russo, and Bucky Barnes himself, Sebastian Stan!" 
Everyone in the room, including you, applauded as three other men took to the stage. The first man also had dark hair and glasses. He was wearing dark blue jeans and a beige shirt with a black vest. Next to him was another man, but this one was a bit shorter than the other one. He had salt and pepper hair and wore all black. Finally, Sebastian, who apparently played the character, Bucky Barnes, took the seat next to the host. He was tall, probably around six feet, with longish brown hair and cerulean eyes. He was also sporting all black, but his jacket was leather. 
You couldn't take your eyes off of him. He was gorgeous, and you silently thanked Sara for asking you to take over filming this panel. Oh, shit! That's right! Your eyes widened as you fumbled with your phone, accidentally dropping it in the process. It slid across the wood floor coming to a stop right in front of the stage.
Sebastian smiled softly, bent down to grab it, and held it out to you. If you could sink into the floor, you would.
"Th-Thank you."
He winked and your breath hitched. "No problem, darlin'." 
Things went smooth for a little while, mostly standard questions about the film itself: how the idea of Civil War came to be, the way they reversed the roles of Captain Rogers and Tony Stark, and the process of incorporating Bucky to be the center focal of the film. You noticed Sebastian’s sense of humor right away. His little jokes about Bucky's metal arm and how waiting on the Russo's is kind of like waiting for Christmas making you giggle. 
You'd never seen a Marvel movie, but you had to admit Bucky's backstory seemed quite interesting. Characters with a good dynamic and a damaged past always seemed to draw you in.
About seven minutes in, you found yourself continuously watching Sebastian’s hands. He fidgeted a lot, sure, but the fact that they were so large, and the thought of them touching you, made you squeeze your thighs together with want. God, this man was sexy without even trying. 
He'd occasionally make eye contact with you, offering you a little smile each time, and it made you think that he was aware of the effect he had on you. It wasn't until about eighteen minutes in that your previous thought became a reality. 
A woman was called on to ask a question and she directed it towards the Russo brothers. It had something to do with location, but you couldn't really be sure because it was apparent that Sebastian was teasing you.
He had to be. His ankle was draped over his left knee while his right hand rested in the crease where his leg was bent. He had his middle, ring, and pinky fingers stretched out, the tips of them tapping a staccato rhythm. The moment his index finger curled inward and moved in a come-hither motion you nearly moaned out loud. You were so focused on his movements that you didn't realize he was staring straight at you, watching you worry your bottom lip with your teeth. 
When you finally moved your eyes back to his, he was smirking deviously.
Fuck! There was no way he wasn't reading you like a book right now.
The last half of the panel continued normally for the most part. It was hard to focus on the questions, but you did recall someone asking Sebastian what he'd say to Bucky if he had a chance to talk to him before he became the Winter Soldier.
He chuckled and said, "don't worry. It's gonna be alright." Then someone else asked one of those hard-to-answer questions. It was something along the lines of what they wanted for Bucky's future. Sebastian shook his head and the whole room gasped when one of the brothers said that he didn't have one. 
The last few questions weren't directed at Sebastian, so, of course, he kept stealing glances at you. He was clearly flirting now, and it made you wonder what his plan was after this event was over.
You didn't have to wait long because the host finally announced the panel's end. Everyone clapped as the guests walked off stage and you were honestly surprised that Sebastian didn't give you any inkling that he wanted to continue your little cat and mouse game. 
Well, at least you could pair your disappointment with the bottle of rosé in your fridge. Sending the video link to Sara, you followed the crowd of people towards the exit. Before you were able to push your way out the door someone tapped you on the shoulder.
"Excuse me, miss?"
You turned and met the eyes of the host.
"I was told to tell you that Sebastian would like to meet you."
You blinked, "he um…he does?"
He nodded and pointed to the curtain they went behind just moments ago.
"Yeah, if you go through there and hang a right you'll come to a hallway. His green room is the second door on the left." 
You looked at him for a few seconds before slowly making your way across the room. The closer you got the more your legs shook, and by the time you were outside the door all you could hear was the loud thumping of your racing heart. You knocked lightly, picking at your nails in anticipation.
"It's open!"
His voice made you shiver as you opened the door with a shaky hand. 
The room was cozy, probably ten by ten, and was well lit. There was a table with an assortment of finger foods, soft drinks, and champagne, a flat screen TV mounted to the wall, and a coffee table surrounded by two chairs and a couch, which Sebastian was sitting on. The way he was staring at you made it hard to maintain eye contact with him. You weren't scared per se, but everything about his demeanor exuded dominance. 
"What's your name?"
It was a simple question. You shouldn't even have to think about it, considering it's been a muscle memory answer since you were a toddler. The thing was, this was not a normal situation, and right now your brain has decided that it no longer wants to participate in this conversation.
You heard him get up, his shoes making a soft sound on the floor as he stalked toward you. He was so close now, the intoxicating smell of his cologne surrounding you making you dizzy. 
"Look at me, doll."
As nervous as you were, you still did what he asked and slowly let your eyes travel up his body. Your gaze raked over his toned calves, thick thighs, narrow waist, broad shoulders, and finally his insanely beautiful face.
"There's no reason to be scared. I don't bite...hard." He chuckled and watched as you played with your hands.
"I um…Y/N…"
Three words. Three little words were all you could manage and when his fingertips touched your arm it made your knees buckle a fraction.
"Jesus, you're shakin' like a leaf, sweetheart. C'mere. Come and sit with me." 
He brought you to the couch and sat down, pulling you with him.
"Would you like something to drink? There's water, Diet Coke, Sprite, and some champagne."
You looked at your lap and licked your lips. "Just um…w-water is fine, thank you."
He poured you a glass and handed it to you, watching as you sipped at the cool liquid.
"So, I couldn't help but notice the way you were lookin' at me earlier." He took the cup from you and set it on the table, his thumb and index finger tilting your chin up. "Especially my hands. You seemed…quite focused on the way I moved them." 
Your eyes were hooded, full of lust, as you nodded. "Well," his baby blues flicked down to your mouth, "I can assure you they move well in other ways too."
You whimpered and held your breath as he leaned in. "Just say the word and I'll stop, but," his thumb swiped your bottom lip, "I don't think you want me to."
Sebastian closed the distance and immediately slid his tongue against yours. The hand that wasn't cupping your cheek wandered south, grabbing underneath your left thigh. The moment you whimpered into his mouth his grip tightened possessively. 
He pulled away, staring at your kiss-swollen lips for a moment before meeting your eyes. "Can I take this off of you?"
He was obviously referring to your dress, but the reaction time of your brain was practically nonexistent so you just nodded dumbly.
"Oh, princess," he chuckled, "I can't believe how wrecked you are right now. Can't even speak and all I've done is kiss you. I'll bet," he curled a section of your hair around his finger, "you're absolutely soaked."
Your eyes fluttered closed as a shaky breath fell from your parted lips. He stood and pulled you to your feet. "Turn around, baby." 
Once your back was to him, he moved your hair to one side. "You have such pretty skin. So smooth and soft under my hands."
He planted a kiss right where your neck met your shoulder and that was the moment you finally found your voice. "...please!"
"Oh," he cooed, "there's that sweet voice. Tell me what you need, sweetheart."
Instead of answering him, you reached behind you to tug at the zipper. "Patience, Y/N," he admonished as he grabbed your wrist. "I'll give you what you want, but it's gonna be at my pace. Is that understood, doll?"
Fuck! You'd never wanted someone so bad in your entire life.
"Y-Yes…"
He leaned down right next to your ear, "yes what?"
You whined as another wave of arousal made your panties even wetter. "Yes, sir." 
"Good girl."
He slid the zipper down torturously slow, your newly exposed skin erupting in goosebumps. Sebastian made a low appreciative hum at the sight of your matching bra and panty set.
"I like this color on you, baby. Can't wait to see you in more though. I bet you'd look absolutely stunning in red."
Your mind was still trying to process the fact that he'd just insinuated there was going to be a 'next time', so you couldn't help the needy moan when he began peppering kisses between your shoulder blades.
"Mmm, that was a pretty sound," his teeth nipped at the base of your neck making you suck in a sharp breath. "Gonna have to see if I can make you do that again." 
"Sir, please… please touch me."
He smirked against your skin. "I am touchin' you, sweet girl."
Now there was no doubt in your mind. This man was trying to kill you.
"T-That's not…I need…"
He laughed softly, "I told you to be patient, honey. I'm busy admiring what I've decided is now mine."
His words made your brain short circuit and you were about to start begging for more when you felt his fingers slide the dress over your shoulders. Gravity took it to the floor leaving you almost bare to him.
"As much as I love the way lace looks on you, I have to admit it'd look even better on the floor."
Once he was done undressing you, except for your red pumps, he turned you back around to face him. 
"Beautiful," he breathed.
His kiss was bruising, possessive like he was marking his territory. His left hand trailed down over the pulse point of your neck, barely grazed your nipple, and finally came to a stop right above your clit.
"How bad do you wanna cum around my fingers, princess?"
You didn't answer right away so he got closer, his lips inches from yours. "I mean, if you don't want to then I can stop. We could watch a movie instead. How 'bout that?"
Your eyes shot open, the mere thought of him leaving you like this made your eyes fill with tears. "No! P-Please… I… I'm so… Sir, I can't… please. Just please!" 
His right hand brushed a loose tear from your cheek, "oh, baby. Shh, I was just teasing."
He pressed a chaste kiss to your lips. "Don't worry about how loud you are. Let them hear. I want everyone to know who's making you feel this good."
He swirled one thick digit around your clit pulling a loud, desperate sound from your throat. "Jesus sugar, you're fuckin' dripping. Did I do all this? You really got this wet from watching me move my fingers?"
Your left hand gripped his bicep like it was a lifeline. "Yes! Yes, fuck, please! Please make me cum! Wanna cum so bad, sir! Want you t-"
He pushed your feet apart and cut you off with another kiss. "Breathe, baby. I'll take care of you, okay?" 
Sebastian alternated between rubbing your clit to circling your entrance for a few minutes. It wasn't enough, but at least he was doing something. Finally, he shoved two of them inside you, starting a steady pace.
"Oh, fuck yesssss," you hissed and threw your head back.
"Yeah, honey? 'S that what you needed? Needed this pretty cunt stuffed full of my fingers?"
He quickly added a third one making your eyes roll back. "Oh, my god! Oh, f-fuck! More! Please I-I want more, sir!"
Sebastian took your bottom lip between his teeth and pulled. "You sure you can take all four, doll? I don't know if this tight little pussy can handle that much."
You dug your nails harder into the leather of his jacket, your moans now echoing throughout the room. "Fuck! Yes, just…  - oh, god - … I can take it, sir!" 
He stopped moving, his pinky rubbing along your folds until it was wet enough. There was a blunt pressure that made you squeeze your eyes shut, but soon Sebastian had four of his thick, long fingers buried inside you.
You clenched around them making him moan with you.
"Shit, honey. You love this don't ya? Love havin' me fingerfuck you like a needy little whore."
You cried out as he began moving again, the obscene sounds of how wet you were mixing with your desperate pleas for more. "Oh, god! You're gonna make m-me cum!"
Sebastian moved his hand faster, his fingers curling while he pressed his thumb against your clit. "Do it, Y/N. Drench my fuckin' hand, doll."
He scraped his teeth against the skin just below your ear and that was it. Your legs shook, his name a guttural scream as your cum coated his hand, your inner thighs, and the floor. 
He held you up, kissing you breathlessly while aftershocks of the best orgasm of your life sparked through your body.
"That was so damn hot, baby. Got me hard as a fuckin' rock watchin' you squirt all over me."
You raised a shaky hand to his chest, "please I need it… please I need you inside me so bad."
Sebastian raised an eyebrow. "Listen to you, sugar. You sound so pretty begging for my cock. You want me to fuck that tight little hole, hm? Fill it full of my cum?" 
You couldn't take it anymore. Dropping to your knees, you undid his pants just enough to free him and wrapped your lips around the swollen head.
"Son of a-, fucking hell, Y/N!"
He moaned sinfully and it only fueled your desire to hear it again. Taking him down your throat, you looked up at him and swallowed while swirling your tongue slowly.
"Oh, my fucking god, baby! Stop, honey I don't wanna cum yet. Sweetheart, stop-stop-stop I- fuck - babydoll…"
As much as you loved seeing him a babbling mess, the need for him to stretch you open was much greater. 
"Fuck me until I can't remember who I am, sir."
He growled and pulled you to your feet. "Bend over. Hands on the wall. Now. I won't ask twice."
You didn't need to be told twice. He kicked his pants off and took off his leather jacket before coming up behind you. Sebastian grabbed one of your ass cheeks roughly and smacked it hard.
"I mean it. I want this whole hotel to hear you scream my fucking name. 'M gonna absolutely ruin you, princess."
The part of your brain in charge of forming a response was rendered useless as he snapped his hips upwards until they met the back of your thighs.
"Fuck, Sebastian!" 
He didn't give you time to adjust, his fingertips holding onto you tightly as he pounded into you with reckless abandon. It was so good, he was so good, and you were one hundred percent certain everyone in a five-block radius knew it too.
"This what you wanted, doll? My cock stretching you open? Fuck, you feel good."
He smacked your ass again, the action making your walls contract around him. "Shit! Yeah, baby. That's it, Y/N… take it. Take my fuckin' dick."
You could barely breathe, let alone think straight. His filthy words, the sounds he made, the way he was slamming into your sweet spot, it was all too much.
"G-Gonna...Oh, fuck Sebastian!" 
He gripped your hair and pulled your head back, the new angle making your vision go white. "Yeah? Gonna cum, princess? C'mon, give it to me. Soak my fuckin' cock, Y/N. Right fuckin' now!"
He held you by your throat and applied delicious pressure making your second orgasm crash into you with the force of a hurricane. A gush of slick covered him and your legs as you shook uncontrollably in his arms.
"FUCK! You're such a good fucking girl." He didn't stop, but his thrusts slowed considerably. "I know you've got one more, sweetheart." 
You whimpered. "I-It's too much… I can't… Please, sir…want you to cum."
Sebastian moved the hand that wasn't around your throat to your clit making you thrash from overstimulation. "You're gonna give me another one. I know you can do it, sugar. Can feel this pretty pussy tightening around me."
The harder he fucked you the louder you got, and when he bit your neck you swore you were going to pass out. "That's right, doll. Scream. Scream my fuckin' name. You feel like heaven, Y/N, so warm and tight. Swear you were created just for me." 
Sebastian turned your head to the side, clumsily kissing you as he sped up his movements again.
"That's it, honey. You can do it. One more. Gimme one more, baby. Oh, shit...shit, I'm gonna cum! Gonna fuckin' fill you up! C'mon, pretty girl, let go one more time for me. Fuck, Y/N! Fuck, I'm gonna…"
He came with an animalistic grunt, the feeling of him coating your walls sending you over the edge a third time. 
Both of you were panting wetly against each other’s lips, a thin sheen of sweat covering your bodies as he pulled out of you.
"Jesus fuckin' Christ that was amazing. You did so well for me, sweetheart. You're perfect."
Words failed you. Hell, you could barely stand up, but you still gave him a blissed-out smile anyway.
"C'mere, love. Come sit and drink some water. I'll get you a blanket too."
Sebastian got you situated before putting his clothes back on. He sat next to you and pushed a few strands of sweaty hair out of your face.
"You with me, babydoll?"
Your head turned to the side, your eyes fluttering open as you looked at him. "Mmhmm. 'M sleepy."
Sebastian chuckled and unlocked his phone, "I promise you can rest soon, but for now, I need you to stay awake for me."
"Kay…," you took another drink and licked your lips. "Whatcha doin'?"
He tapped a few times on the screen before he answered you. "I just extended my hotel stay for four more nights."
You downed the rest of the glass and let it rest between you and the couch. "Why? Big plans?"
Sebastian smirked and pulled you in for a slow, passionate kiss. "Yeah," he breathed. "Big plans to fuck you over and over into the king-size mattress."
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oh-my-damn · 6 months
Note
Please please!!! Tell us the plot for the devil inside!!!!! 😍😍😍😍😍
Your wish is my command, my dear 😌 🫡
I'll give you a short snippet of what I've been working on so far 🫶🏻
This is the fic that will have literally every single trope under the sun (hopefully). I'm going to jam-pack this fic with all the clichés in the world and I have a feeling I'm going to thoroughly enjoy doing it!
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Basically I'm going to try and fit in all of these tropes:
Enemies to lovers, grumpy/sunshine, avengers vibes circa 2012 (living in compound), avenger!reader, forced proximity, only one bed, friends with benefits, mutual pining, hurt/comfort, miscommunication, angst for the hell of it, and a hell of a lot of smut. For kinks I'm thinking definitely a metal hand kink, choking, some rough sex but also some soft sex (we like the duality of bucky), spanking, dom/sub vibes (I'm kinda considering experimenting with bucky as both a dom and sub/that they switch bc I feel like Bucky has a subby side), lots of dirty talk obviously, breeding kink/cumplay, touch starved bucky.
It will be Beefy!Bucky (circa Civil War) with manbun, but his vibes will be FATWS!Bucky bc he's sassy and sarcastic and snarky. I may also delve into him having the shorter hair later on in the story, I haven't decided yet, but so far we're doing long haired Bucky bc I love him!!!
These pics inspired me last night to get to work so here are the vibes:
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Snippet of The Devil Inside under the cut!
When you got up to get your things, that's when he approached you. Your eyes shot up at the sound of his voice, your body tensing at the question he asked you.
"You call that fighting?"
And that was that. You were too stunned to come with a retort at the time, all you could do was look at him in shock as he snickered and walked off, and you've recounted that moment in your head a thousand times by now. How he laughed you off, the look of amusement on his face, as if you were the dumbest person in the world. It was clear he certainly didn't think you were worthy of being an Avenger.
Ever since then, you've hated him.
It only intensified over time.
There was the time when he scoffed when Tony chose you to go on a mission with Bucky, Steve and Nat. Or the time when he scowled at you for grabbing a beer with the rest of them in the common room after a long mission.
Not to mention the countless times he had walked off, practically mid-conversation, if you walked up to the group he was standing with.
Yes, it was safe to say that Bucky Barnes loathed you, and you felt the same way.
Which only made it more infuriating that he was the most beautiful man you'd ever seen.
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cherry-shake · 3 months
Text
Deep Dive of Bucky’s Character Design
I have ridiculously strong opinions about Bucky being drawn with blue eyes in most comics now-a-days. Sebastian Stan is hot and all, but his character design is really important to his overarching theme in his early runs.
1. Eyes
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According to Marvel’s Handbook, Bucky Barnes has brown eyes and has been drawn that way for a long time. Brown eyes are the most common eye color for all races. Mostly because of its dominant trait. Bucky has never been drawn to be unique. No flames or gills, just a plane man. That was the whole point of his creation to encourage young people and normal people to make a difference.
2. Hair
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Of course, his hair is also brown. The most common hair color. I think it’s also important to note, other than as the Winter Soldier, he keeps his hair short. Growing up on a military base and then joining the military at 16, it’s not that surprising he is use to having his hair short. Of course, it’s not like they are measuring your hair length in the middle of WW2 so this is probably out of reqs. A part of Bucky’s history that is often ignored is that he was used as the soldier behind Steve. He did the killing and dirty work while Steve fought more like a hero. At heart, he is a soldier not a symbol.
3. Height
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Canonically, Bucky’s height is 5’ 9” which also happens to be the U.S. average for men. Compared to a lot of heroes, especially super soldiers, he is shorter. In fact, he is only two inches taller than Natasha. Meanwhile, Steve would tower over him. I think this once again hones in that Bucky was suppose to be the normal guy on a team of heroes and androids. Luckily, he does not have short man syndrome.
4. Uniform
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There were no flashy stars and strips for Bucky in the war. Even as Captain America, his colors were more subdued. I find that Bucky’s original costume reminds me of the Union’s civil war costume with the buttons (image from MET). In fact, some regents added red into their blue costumes as well. As the Winter soldier, his costume is a call back to the modern soldier. His uniforms have always designated him as a soldier no matter what side he was on.
At the end of the day, Bucky Barnes was written as an average man keeping on par with superheroes like Captain America, Atlanteans, and super androids. Unlike some characters (*cough* Clint *cough*), he’s never been too upset about not having powers and being average. However, he does hate being considered a side kick. I mean imagine calling a WW2 vet a sidekick. His character design has been very important in establishing his normalcy. He was always drawn as an average Joe with brown eyes and hair and an average height. Bucky was meant to connect with readers and inspire them in a different way than Steve. Even though he’s not really normal anymore with a metal arm and the infinity serum. To me, he will always have dark eyes.
JUST PLEASE STOP DRAWING COMICS!BUCKY as SEBASTIAN STAN
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1heartsickfics · 2 months
Text
Soft Bucky
Here's another little ficlet, Steve/Bucky this time cause I've also been back on an avengers kick. Also just prevent that civil war didn't happen.
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It was weird living here, in Tony Starks skyscraper compound. As soon as Bucky had come back to Steve the Avenger's had accepted him with open arms - well, maybe that's a bit of an exaggeration-. They were definitely all a little scared of him, but they'd always been nice.
Tony had offered him a room on the same floor as Steve, which he'd accepted. It's not like he had anywhere else to go. Although it hadn't been long before he and Steve were sleeping in the same bed again, so his room went unused most of the time. He knew they'd all noticed, but no one had said anything.
The good thing about living in the compound though, was that there was always a lot going on, which meant that Bucky could easily blend into the background and not be noticed. He could always slip away if things got to be too much or if he needed to be alone, and Steve understood that.
It was also good for trying to figure out what the hell was wrong with Steve without anyone noticing that he'd been watching him out of the corner of his eye for this entire debriefing. Most of them were too busy arguing about something stupid and there were at least three separate conversations going on.
"Hey," Bucky said under his breath, giving Steve a nudge with his elbow, "You okay?"
"Fine," Steve shrugged. But he didn't look fine.
Bucky must've looked skeptical, because Steve gave him a slight smile -that looked more like a grimace- and nudged Bucky back. Oh yeah, Bucky thought, that makes it so much more believable. He fought the urge to roll his eyes. Steve could be so stupid sometimes.
"What do you think Rogers?" Tony's voice cut through Bucky's internal monologue, and he realized that the attention had been turned to them.
"Steve?" Nat asked when he didn't respond. Bucky was frozen under their eyes, even though they were mostly looking at Steve.
"I-" Steve started to speak but cut off abruptly, "I'm sorry," he gasped out, then jumped up out of his chair and bolted to the corner of the room where he promptly bent over the trash can and puked.
That was enough to snap Bucky out of his thoughts. The crowd suddenly forgotten, he jumped up as well, moving to stand next to Steve, placing one hand on his back and the other on his hip, rubbing gently, just like he used to do all those years ago when Steve would get sick.
"Aw Stevie, I knew something was wrong," Bucky sighed. Steve was no longer actively throwing up, but he was still hunched over the trashcan coughing and gagging.
"Easy darling, you're all done," Bucky said, wrapping his metal arm around Steve's waist to help support him, he could feel him shaking. He needed to get Steve sitting down.
"Buck.." Steve groaned, letting Bucky take some of his weight.
"I know Stevie," he shushed him, brushing his hair out of his eyes with his other hand.
That was when he remembered that he had an audience. Shit. Well, if they hadn't figured out the nature of his and Steve's relationship they sure had now. He turned his head to find them all silently gawking at the scene happening in front of them.
Bucky winced, hating the attention. But it wasn't about him right now, he just needed to get Steve taken care of. He swallowed hard.
"Can someone push a chair over here?" he asked.
No one moved for a moment, then Clint stood up, pushing one of the empty chairs over toward them. Without saying anything he grabbed Steve under one arm and helped Bucky lower him down into the chair.
"Thank you," Bucky said, avoiding meeting Clint's eyes.
Clint nodded, "I'll go get him some water," he added before heading out of the room.
"Hey, that came on pretty quick huh?" Bucky said softly, crouching down in front of Steve's chair, one hand on Steve's leg.
"M'sorry," Steve mumbled, slumping down further in the chair so he could lean his head against the back.
"Don't, it's okay, I've got you," he looked up, glancing at the others who were all still quietly observing, "We've got you," he amended.
"I don't feel good," Steve said quietly.
"Yeah I know you don't. We'll get you up to bed in a minute okay? Just rest for a second first," Bucky said, standing up and moving to Steve's side to drape an arm around his shoulders. Steve leaned his head against Bucky's side, pressing against him.
Bucky stared down at the floor, waiting for Clint to come back and break this horrible awkward silence. They were all staring.
"I didn't know cap could even get sick," Tony said after a few more moments of quiet.
"Neither did we," Bucky answered, looking up at the group for the first time. They all just looked worried, sympathetic. They weren't judging him, or Steve, they were just worried.
Maybe he liked living here after all.
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Comic-con
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Pairings: Sebastian Stan x Reader
Warnings: Cursing, Fluff
Summary: You get the chance to meet The Sebastian Stan at Comic Con.
A/N: i might make a comic con series. Also, we're gonna pretend that the barrier thing wasnt there. :)
i’ve got this so far, but i haven’t posted in a while so i’m posting this. it will be updated in a bit
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It was surreal. The whole thing.
Going to Comic con had always been your dream. Marvel had been in your life since you could remember and you always wished to have an opportunity to meet those who gave you the comfort and safety. Those who created the escape for you.
One person in particular came to mind.
You had seen Sebastian Stan in a few movies and shows before he joined the MCU as James ‘Bucky’ Barnes, but when he did, you fell in love with him and the character. Ever since you saw him in Captain America: The First Avenger, he was your favourite.
You comfort character.
You cried when he fell off the train in the movie and you gasped when the mask fell off in The Winter Soldier. You squealed when you saw the man in his infamous red Henley in Civil war, and you cried again when he got dusted and had to say goodbye to Steve and you cheered when he became free of Hydra in The Falcon and The Winter Soldier.
You felt that he was a part of you. And he was a part of you that you held onto dearly.
You waited patiently in the long line. Patiently and nervously. Your hands fiddled with each other and you rocked back and forth on your feet. You had come with friends but they had ditched you to go see someone else.
However excited you were for the day, a knot in your stomach build up more and more each time the queue moved forward. That feeling of nervousness taking over.
You chewed on your lip hard enough to draw blood when you saw that you were next.
When you finally moved forward and took a good look at the man, all your breath left your lungs. He looked good. So damn good. He had taken his hat off and ran a hand through his growing hair. The shades of blue in his outfit brought out his eyes perfectly and the grey spots in his beard made him look a hundred times hotter.
You stumbled over your words as you introduce yourself.
Sebastian smiled politely, looking down at you with soft eyes. He was patient and only spoke once he was sure you were finished.
“How are you?” he smiled. He could tell you were nervous and wanted to soothe you. He wanted to hold you but he knew it would only probably scare you away.
“M-me? Oh, yeah, um, I’m good. Excited. H-how are you?”
“I’m good, sweetheart, but I’m afraid we don’t have a lot of time. Is there a specific pose you’d like for the photo?”
“U-um, no, um... I just. Can I have a hug?” you asked shyly.
“Of course. C’mere.”
You hesitantly walked into his outstretched arms. Feeling the comfort of his body pressed against yours, you smiled. You wrapped you arms around him as he did the same with you.
With more confidence, you looked up into his eyes. They intensity of the blue, already looking back down at you. Too caught up, you failed to realise that the picture had already been taken, until you were being ushered out. Before you left, you heard Sebastian whisper.
“I’ll see you at the signing?”
You smiled in conformation and left.
******
You felt like you were on a high. Like you were on cloud 9. You met up with your friends briefly before heading towards the signing, as they wandered around, promising to bring you back some stuff.
You knew you would only have a certain 
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i’ve got this so far, but i haven’t posted in a while so i’m posting this. it will be updated in a bit
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amarriageoftrueminds · 11 months
Note
i don't get how some ppl have such short memories for the creative decisions marvel makes
people saying that james gunn(??) should write Bucky bc of rocket's arc in gotg3... did they forget that we already know what gunn's thoughts on Bucky and his autonomy are? none of them were remotely good, and it also involved rocket and his ableist running joke of wanting to dismember amputees replacement limbs off. marvel would rather humanize a raccoon than a human who was tortured and enslaved by nazis.
or how people will rightfully criticize all the available info feige puts out re: Thunderbolts for calling Bucky a villain... but then turn around and preeptively praise that he might have "long" hair (the WS cut) so out wondering why marvel keeps putting Bucky in winter soldier style designs whenever they villainize him again. it happens in both comics and mcu consistently. obviously those in charge want to keep him as the WS villain role and not progress his character and don't care why people liked the WS story (the development it set up)
or how some complain that Sam was unkind and victimblamey towards Bucky in tfatws, I feel like those got too into fanon!Sam that made him a therapist bc of his veteran work, but Sam re: Bucky started out wanting him to be put down like a dog, and consistently complained about Steve treating Bucky with kindness and empathy. fatws Sam wasn't OOC, he was always a military man whose empathy never extended towards the POW captured by Nazis and always regarded him as a potential threat that he has to tolerate, that was in character. the actual fault is the mcu not exploring the dynamic a super patriotic US military man not extending empathy towards a a ww2 vet for fought nazis only for said nazis to be hired by the US a lá Project Paperclip, but LBR the disney-owned and USDoD-funded marvel studios is not financially incentivized to delve into those topics in any way that doesn't ultimately end with "woo, Captain Amurrica, red white and blue stars and stripes, stand for the flag wooo! ignore anything close to critical in this project and embrace patriotic centrism!"
I already hate how long the last one got but another thing:
the way that Steve's mother and his Irish heritage (during the early 1900s which makes it more significant in that point in history) are given to shine, we don't even know her maiden name, even the story of Steve's father and how it's supposed to parallel Steve going to fight European fascism in both world wars, none of that gets any attention bc marvel as a franchise cares more abt the generic patriotism to dive into the characters
There's never enough talk about how post-CATWS mcu demoted Bucky from titular character and arguable secondary protagonist as a foil and parallel for Steve, be his alternate supersoldier/superhero journey based on who the world chose to lionized and who to exploit in the seedy underbelly and shady deals w nazis, but post-CATWS mcu (specifically CACW) robbed Steve of the chance to have Steve's (not Cap's, Steve's) character be explored.
Becayse why tf does that terrorizing billionaire have more screentime on what is (nominally) a sequel to Steve and Bucky's movie? We learn more about tony's annoying ass billionaire parents in a desperate attempt for pity than we do about either Bucky or Steve's families… the most we get is a name drop of Steve and Bucky reunion scenes that were clearly cut short if you compare them to the trailers of the movie.
the russos are branded as hacks (and maybe this is me still being bitter as an OG cacw-hater) but after they revealed in interviews that they kept re-editing and re-shooting civil war until half of test audiences sided with tony, that should've been where they were forever banned from filmmaking. that's not making a movie, that's making a product to sell action figures (unfortunately true for most of marvel if we're honest)
"Captain America: the Winter Soldier" nay have listed them by their titles, but that movie is pretty much the only time we see Bucky and Steve as characters most of the time, it's literally the only own with flashbacks to their relationship before the war, before "Captain America" even existed, to where it was just Bucky and Steve.
the vast majority of the marvel franchise treats them as only "Cap" and "Winter Soldier" their actual characters get lost by "creatives" who only have a superficial understanding of them as just two types of action figures to collect, they don't know Steve or Bucky, so we get sequels constantly about "Bucky's a killer robot who must be browbeat at every turn" and "Steve's most important thing in his life is the cap shield and legacy" as if their stories weren't centered around how Bucky was NOT the killer robot and in fact Steve's damn-near guardian angel character before the war and even during (literally killing nazis before they could touch Steve) and as if Steve didn't throw away the shield and Captain America title in each of his movies in favor of what's actually important to him: his oldest protector and the one he wants to protect in return, Bucky.
marvel doesn't even understand Bucky and Steve, they treat them as WS & CA, even though their core canon never showed them caring about the "legacy" and patriotism, it was always incidental at best or an obstacle that gets in the way. the most patriotism was in catfa, but it was always a mantle forced into Steve and his hero team (Howling Commandos) were purposefully diverse and non-American majority recommended by Bucky when Steve joined Bucky in the war to fight nazis. But now marvel wants to retcon in this stuff with lines like Bucky calling Hydra "my people" instead of his oppressors and torturers like they actually were, and storylines about how the patriotic legacy and shield are Steve's whole identity instead of Bucky speaking up and pointing out that none of the other characters actually knew Steve, they only knew "Cap" and "Mr. America" and that Steve literally abandoned the shield as his last public choice with it, so none of it even is his legacy at all.
the sheer gall of (in defense of infinitywar/endgame's BS) people claimed that Bucky would finally get focus again in tfatws, but in the end, only catws gave us flashback scenes of Bucky (and Steve!) before the war before the superhero stuff, meanwhile the d+ show didn't even acknowledge that Bucky's direct family's kids are 1000% alive (he had a big family!) and heard of the real uncle Bucky, and instead the show claimed that Bucky is closest to HYDRA… the ones who tortured him into a mindslave… and he said it to a government mandated therapist (institutionalization by the state) who works for the same government who had the hydra-nazis on payroll and funded Bucky's torture…
no one at marvel even gave a thought about Bucky's family or the direct fault the gov has in his abuse.. no one on screen points out that the state that's institutionalizing him as a felon literally owes him reparations. they could've done a storyline relating to other IRL groups and family descendants who are owed reparations for the USA's domestic and international crimes and how Bucky is a similar case, but instead it's about how Bucky has no family that he was violently imprisoned from and how he's the one at fault and how the government mandated oversight says Bucky should be apologizing for what they funded
Bucky has so many blatant similarities with victims and descendants of IRL state human rights abuses that those states refuse to recognize, but marvel isn't willing to frame in a way that makes the US look bad because they're too busy being patriotic and "respecting the shield" and flag symbols and "legacy" and pretending like the shield is so so so important to Bucky or Steve and retcon out the parts where the shield and the captain america stuff was discarded easily at the emotional climax of each of the first 3 movies in favor of protecting what actually mattered more: each other….
but patriotism tho, the new Cap & WS who replaced Bucky & Steve are too patriotic to point out that the government literally owes their (cuz both ssr/shield & hydra were agencies by them) their two most famous supersoldier experimental test subjects a lot of money and apologies for a long laundry list of reasons
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autumnsghosts · 2 years
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Dust to Dust
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summary: When you come back from the blip in the graveyard having just been at your grandmother’s funeral, the cemetery seems like the safest place to be. Cleaning old gravestones had certainly never been a dream of yours, but now you find yourself there most days, scraping dirt and moss and algae from stones of people long dead and most likely long forgotten. It also doesn't hurt that a certain blue-eyed super soldier visits the cemetery weekly, placing flowers over two plots. pairing: Bucky x female reader word count: 7379 (this really got away from me…) warnings: some cursing, mentions of death author’s note: This is my entry into @pellucid-constellations Love Letters Writing Challenge (cut it right down to the wire)! This is only my second fic and my first time writing for Bucky. I was originally planning on writing something completely different but I couldn't get this out of my head. Completely inspired by the awesome folks who do this in real life and post about it on Tik Tok. playlist: Dust to Dust by the Civil Wars on repeat forever
You were well aware that to others, your new hobby would appear more than a bit morbid. But as you scrubbed the dirt from the tombstone with a wire brush, watching as the brown suds ran down into the soil below, all you felt was catharsis. Peace and catharsis. Cleaning old gravestones had certainly never been a dream of yours, but now you found yourself here most days, scraping dirt and moss and algae from stones of people long dead and most likely long forgotten. And that was the reason you continued. There was something comforting about being in the presence of others who had been forgotten, even if they were no longer living.
The first stone you had cleaned had been your grandmothers. Your beloved grandmother who took you and your mother in when your father walked out, no questions asked and no judgment given. Your grandmother who told you bedtime stories of fairies in magical woods and of strong princesses who didn’t need rescuing. The one who taught you to paint and to bake chocolate chip banana muffins and above all things, to be kind. Sometimes that last lesson was difficult to carry on when the world had treated you so unkindly.
When she had died, it felt like your whole world had ended. And then it really did. On the morning of her funeral, as a soft, warm wind lifted your hair and the sun beat down against the black fabric of your dress, the world had ended for what felt like a held breath. The small crowd that had gathered around the upturned earth felt suffocating and you were almost glad when they started thinning out, even if it meant you were now truly alone. After what felt like hours, eternity, you reached down to grab a handful of grave dirt and as you stood over her grave, the last person on earth who loved you, the handful of dirt slipping through your fingers and falling onto the smooth, wood casket , your own fingers turned to dust.
You could still remember the feeling, numbing cold and then nothingness before returning to the same spot, hands empty. Green grass had replaced your grandmother’s open grave and her tombstone was already dulled with the wear of 5 years. You would go back to the grave over and over again in the few weeks after the blip. You had lost your job, lost the warm, cozy home you had loved so much. The last part of your grandmother now well and truly gone. Maybe that is why you continued to go back to the cemetery, day after day. Marveling at the quiet. Wondering how the graves could go so long without anyone caring for them, becoming dirt covered and worn. So you had gotten to work, first starting with your own grandmother’s tombstone, pulling the weeds from the base, cleaning the smooth marble until it was bright again and planting a bright yellow mum at the base. You had researched the proper tools to get, the correct techniques to use as you surveyed the gravestones dating back decades. Your first course of action had been to ask permission from the caretaker, who had taken some time to track down. Just one man who should have been retired responsible for acres of final resting places. He had been thrilled for the help. And then you just couldn’t stop. You felt like you were doing something, something useful, something good.
You never felt alone as you walked through the cemetery, and sometimes you weren’t. The old cemetery frequently had visitors but was never crowded by any stretch. It had been two months, and you had still not moved on from the section of plots near your grandmother you had started in. When you returned home to your tiny walk up studio apartment, you spent hours researching the history of the names on the stones you had cleaned that day. You told yourself that you were just being methodical, cleaning stone by stone. But if you were being completely honest, you hadn’t really moved on to a different part of the cemetery because of a certain handsome stranger who came once a week on schedule, bringing a bouquet of yellow roses and white daisies to lay at the base of two headstones.
Of course, he wasn’t exactly a stranger. You knew who he was. He had cut his dark hair and kept his metal arm buried under a leather jacket and gloves, even in the heat of late summer, but you recognized him. Though you hadn’t worked up the courage to talk to James Barnes, you had certainly worked up quite the crush. The way he knelt in front of the stones of the people he was visiting, the sadness evident in his blue eyes even from afar. You felt drawn to him. Marveling at more than just his handsome face, you wanted to know him. You wanted to know who he was visiting and why he seemed so hollow. But the thought terrified you, not because you were afraid of him. You were terrified because it had been so long since you’d actually had a conversation with someone. You spent your working hours in front of a computer screen and when you weren’t working, you were here, cleaning old tombstones in ragged clothes, hair pulled up and dirt smudged on your face.
You knew, of course, that you could just look at the gravesites he visited after he left, but it strangely felt like such an invasion of privacy. The sites you cleaned were old, sometimes over a hundred years, and no one had visited them in years. This felt different, more personal, and you couldn’t bring yourself to look.
As you worked on the stone in front of you, the final resting place of Sarah Monroe, an amazing woman who has driven the city’s first bookmobile, you glanced towards the tall maple tree you always found Bucky under. He usually was here already, crouched in front of the two graves under the maple but you had yet to see him today. You surreptitiously glanced up every now and then, looking for him, but as the sky darkened and you finished with your last grave of the day, you still hadn’t seen him. You stood, dusting the dirt from your jeans and rinsing off your tools with your water sprayer. You wrapped them in a towel and placed them in your bucket, snapping a quick picture of your work and heading towards the center of the graveyard. Richard, the caretaker, would let you store some of your things in the garden shed, especially your water sprayer that made the job a lot easier but was too heavy to walk with. When you looked down at your watch, you realized it was a lot later than you realized.
When you reached the shed, you yanked on the door but it didn’t budge. Richard had never locked it on you before. You glanced down at the heavy water sprayer and tried the door again but it didn’t budge. You felt panic rising in your chest. You could just leave them here, but your tools, though not particularly expensive, had taken a while to procure on your very limited income. Plus, if the shed was locked that must mean that Richard had already left for the evening. You glanced over to the iron gate inside the high brick wall and ran, heart thudding in your chest. You weren’t necessarily concerned about being in a cemetery alone at night as much as you were concerned about being anywhere in the city alone in the dark at night. When you finally reached the gate your heart sank even lower as you noted the large lock in place through the chain, barring your exit. You dropped your tools to the ground and pressed the heels of your hands to your eyes, whirling around as if another exit was going to materialize. You desperately beat against the gate, rattling the chain which sounded particularly ominous in the empty graveyard.
“Are you okay?” In your panic, you hadn’t heard anyone approach. You screamed, tripping backwards over your bucket of tools and falling with a resounding thud right on your behind.
Bucky stood at the gate, hands raised in front of him as if you were a startled animal he was trying to placate.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” He said.
“You’re late,” you said, not fully recognizing the words as they poured from your mouth until it was too late to take them back. You closed your eyes tightly in embarrassment, ducking your head to avoid his gaze, missing the way his eyes crinkled in confusion.
“Not that I know your schedule or anything. Or that I watch you when you are here…oh my god, I need to stop talking.” you managed to choke out, scrambling to your feet and dusting yourself off.
But Bucky laughed, actually laughed. It was breathy and quiet but it was a laugh and you immediately looked up to see his face, broke into a grin.
“I…had some things come up. Do you need some help?” He asked, nodding towards your supplies.
“I’m actually kind of locked in?” the words sounded like a question and you heard him laugh again. You suddenly wanted nothing more but to make this man laugh for the rest of your life.
Bucky wasn’t sure if you knew who he was. He had a feeling that if you did, it was not his help you would want when you were alone at night in a dark cemetery. He glanced down at the lock before looking back up at you. It would take a simple pinch of his fingers to snap the lock open, but he didn’t exactly want to expose who he was if he didn’t have to. His session with Dr. Raynor had left him more than a little frustrated. He had thought going to visit his parents every week should count for something, some sort of way to reconcile his past, honor the Bucky Barnes he had once been. But Raynor had just reiterated again how very alone he was.
He thought about that fact as he looked at you, still clearly flustered from being scared half to death in a cemetery. He had seen you, of course. He had been intrigued by the care and concentration you gave to each grave. He had guessed that maybe you worked for the city or some historical preservation society but now he wasn’t so sure. He wanted to find out
“Why don’t you gather your things while I work on this lock.” He suggested, hoping you would turn. You seemed to understand, nodding as you turned, gathering the things that had strewn across the walkway after your trip. You heard a metallic click and then the screeching echo of the rusty gate swinging open.
“Lifesaver!” You said as you turned around. Bucky ducked his head.
“Need some help with that?” He offered, gesturing to the tools at your feet.
“I usually lock it up in the caretaker shed but I guess Richard forgot I was here tonight. I don’t want to put you out, you’ve already helped enough.”
“I really don’t mind.” Bucky said again, reaching down to grab your things, swiftly holding the water sprayer and bucket of tools with no effort.
“Thank you, seriously, I really appreciate it. I’m Y/N, by the way.” You said.
“Bucky.” He found himself saying.
The walk to your apartment is mostly quiet, but it is comfortable, occasionally filtered with questions.
“Cleaning the graves, is that your job?” He asked. You let out a soft chuckle and sighed.
“Sadly, no. That would probably make it less creepy. My…grandmother passed away, right before the blip. I was actually at her funeral when it happened and when I came back, it kind of became the only place I felt comfortable. God, that sounds so weird.”
“It doesn’t. Not at all. So you were…gone? In the blip?” He asked, his voice gentle. You nodded, glancing up at him.
“You?”
“Yeah” you both fell quiet for a few moments before he said “I think it’s pretty incredible, actually. Spending your time caring for people you'll never meet.”
You looked up at him again, catching him looking at you. You gave him a grin before ducking your head again.
The evening was turning cool, and your shirt had gotten wet in the cleaning process leaving you shivering. Bucky looked down, wanting to do something normal like offer you his jacket, but he didn’t want to break this spell, this comfortable bubble of companionship he had somehow stumbled into. He didn’t want to scare you off if you didn’t know who he was. But you were shivering and he was still the gentleman his Ma had raised, so he stopped walking, setting your tools down on a front stoop and shrugging off his jacket. He held it out, silently offering to drape it over your shoulders and you turned, grabbing the soft leather as soon as it fell over your shoulders.
“Thank you,” you said, snuggling into the jacket and Bucky felt warmth spread all the way down to his toes.
When you neared your building, your stomach dropped. You didn’t want the walk to end and you also were nervous about Bucky seeing your apartment. After losing your grandmother’s cozy brownstone, your small 5th floor walk up paled in comparison. The building was old, but not in the historic pre-war beauty of a few blocks up. Yours was crumbling with age and poor maintenance, made of chipping concrete and a front stoop with a broken step and bent railings. You hurried to get past the front of the building, hoping your creepy neighbor wouldn’t make an appearance tonight…or maybe rather wishing he would. Bucky was certainly a looming presence, maybe the creep in 4B would finally leave you alone.
As you climbed up to your apartment, you thanked Bucky up each flight of stairs. Bucky caught your nervous glances around and was on edge himself. He noticed the immediate shift in your movements and was worried that you didn’t feel safe here. When you stopped in front of the last apartment down the hall on the 5th floor, digging through your bag for your keys, he opened his mouth to say something but stopped. What would he say? Can you please find somewhere safer to live? When you finally found your keys in the depth of your tote bag, you unlocked two deadbolts, which made Bucky feel a bit better, and stepped inside, opening the door wider for Bucky to come in.
“You can just set that stuff right by the door,” you said, continuing to head inside the warm apartment. Bucky placed your tools down and then stood, closing the door and finally taking in your apartment. It was small but exceptionally cozy and nothing like his own barebones government mandated housing.
A small kitchen was directly to the right, overflowing with cooking equipment. To the left, a small dining nook, really just a table pushed up against a window, covered in a delicate lace tablecloth as well as two candles and a white pitcher with a delicate blue design holding a bouquet of dried lavender. There was floral wallpaper, mismatched rugs on nearly every bit of exposed flooring. There were no overhead lights, lamps on nearly every surface emitting a warm glow.
This home, filled with clearly loved things neatly arranged with care, felt so much like the home he grew up in that he stalled at the door, taking in a shaky breath. You must take his harsh inhale as a form of judgment because suddenly you were by his side again, taking in your space with hands clasped in front of you, fidgeting.
“I know, it’s…small. And I don’t think I could ever be described as a minimalist so, I know it’s, well…a lot”, you say.
You had taken his pause at the door to mean he was uncomfortable. You had spent the last few months scouring thrift stores, trying your hardest to recreate the cozy and safe feeling your grandmother’s home had enveloped you in as a child. But seeing a super soldier standing on your braided rug in the doorway, taking in your tufted velvet sofa and lace curtains separating your “living space” from your bed, you felt oddly embarrassed.
“No! No, it’s…it’s, uh. It’s really nice. I think…” Bucky wanted to reassure you that even through his shock, he felt instantly at peace in your home. And that’s what it was. Unlike his apartment with barely any furniture and no personal traces, your home felt like a warm hug. He could tell exactly who you were just by stepping foot inside, like he was peering straight into your mind. “I think my mom had that exact pitcher.” He said finally, gesturing to the milk glass on the table.
“Oh yeah?” You said, smiling now. You hand him back his jacket as you move towards the kitchen, filling the kettle and setting it on the stove.
“Want some tea? Coffee?”
He did. Bucky felt the instant urge to never have to leave your side again and that was terrifying. You had seemingly just met. You hadn’t even taken a glance at his arm, either out of politeness or fear he wasn’t sure and he didn’t think he wanted to find out. He felt his heart rate increase, sweat beginning to gather at the nape of his neck. Flashes of memories forced their way to the surface. His mother, teaching him how to dance across the hardwood floors of their home, doing the same with his sister when she was older. Coming home to the smell of a home cooked meal, sitting together at the table, a table not unlike the one sitting to his left. Even the scent was familiar, lavender and honey. He could feel the panic rising and he knew he needed to get out of there.
“I should actually head out,” Bucky managed to say from the doorway. Your face falls for a moment before you realize that to him, you are essentially complete strangers and your silly crush is one hundred percent one sided.
“Thank you again,” you say, turning for just a moment to reach for a glass from the cupboard but when you turn towards the door again, he is gone.
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You had made the decision as you lay awake that night, unable to sleep. Clearly, Bucky was visiting the graves of someone he loved, or at least someone who meant quite a bit to him. He had saved your life, or at the very least saved you from a cold and uncomfortable night spent on a park bench inside a cemetery. You wanted to do something for him, something to thank him properly, and all you kept coming back to was the gravestones. When you woke the next morning, after a fitful few hours of sleep, you had made your mind. You gathered your supplies, dressed quickly into a pair of worn jeans and an oversized gray sweatshirt and your green rain boots before heading out the door.
It was Thursday, and while you knew he wouldn’t be coming today, you still glanced over your shoulder as you neared the cemetery walls. You walked reverently towards the stones he always visited, two stones clustered together underneath one of the large maple trees that had just begun to turn color. This part of the cemetery was towards the center, away from most of the city noise and surrounded by trees. It was one of the reasons your grandmother had picked her plot so early. You thought it had been incredibly morbid at the time but now you understood. It was a beautiful place to rest.
You set your tools down, arranging them in order and mixing your cleaning solution. You inspected the stones for flakes or cracks, any damage that might be made worse by cleaning and thankfully found none. You soaked the stone with the water from your sprayer and picked up your paint scraper, gently scraping away the areas where moss had taken over, obscuring the stone. Then you got to work spraying your cleaning solution and scrubbing the stone with your brush, using a toothbrush to get in the small nooks and crannies to make sure the inscription was legible again. While you were letting the stone sit for a few minutes, you finally took the time to read the epitaphs.
Winnifred Barnes
1895 - 1955
Beloved wife and mother.
George Barnes
1891 - 1940
Beloved husband and father.
You trace the dates with your finger, breath catching in your throat, marveling at the fact that they must be Bucky’s parents.
After rinsing the stones completely with water, you stand back to admire your work. Though they are simple, they truly are beautiful, and you run your fingers over them, sending a silent hello to George and Winnifred. You wondered what they had been like. If Bucky had been close with them. If he had once had siblings. You gently arranged a bouquet of flowers at the base of each stone and slipped a note inside the wrapping.
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The next week, Bucky can’t stop his eyes from drifting across the cemetery, looking for the green rain boots you always wore. He can’t help but smile when he finds you. Your back is to him, scrubbing a stone a few yards away and Bucky is surprised at the comfort your simple presence brings him. He feels like he needs to apologize. He had been on the brink of a panic attack in your apartment last week and left with barely a goodbye. When he reaches his parent’s graves, he stills. He has to do a double take to make sure he’s in the right spot. He feels a tightening in his chest, tears prickling at the corners of his eyes as he lets out a shaky breath and crouches down for a closer look. The stones were beautiful, back to the palest gray and their epitaphs were dark and clear. You had even laid flowers at each of them, bright, sunny bouquets that his mother would have adored. He sees a sliver of paper sticking out from the wrapping of the bouquet in front of his mother’s stone and he picks it up, delicately unfolding it.
“Bucky,
I truly hope this isn’t out of line. Normally I never see the families of the graves I clean and I think it is truly remarkable that you are still here, that you can visit their memory. I hope that this brings a bit of beauty to your weekly visits.
Thank you again,
Y/N”
Bucky is enamored with your thoughtfulness. He runs a hand over the smooth marble, taking in each detail he hadn’t bothered to notice before.
“Hey, Ma. Dad.” Bucky says, still crouching low in front of the graves. “I don’t know if this is you sending some sort of sign, but I’ll take it.” He looked up for you again before leaving his own flowers and saying goodbye to his parents.
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You catch just a glimpse of his back as he leaves, shoulders hunched, completely unable to read him. Your own shoulders fall. Maybe you had overstepped? Maybe it truly had been some invasion into his private life that he resented you for? Out of anyone you could think of, you knew he certainly deserved his privacy, after everything he had been through. You knew that you only knew a fraction of it, only what they had thrown at him during his pardon proceedings. He had strangely become this constant in your life, and now that you had actually met him, had a conversation with him, you knew him to be sweet and caring. You didn’t want to think lose that now. You felt tears gathering in your eyes and you shook your head. This was stupid! You hardly knew the man, and you had overstepped. This was all on you. Instead of packing up and heading home, like you wanted, you gathered your things and moved a few stones over, preparing to start cleaning again.
After another twenty minutes had passed, you had lost yourself in the process enough to clear your mind somewhat. The music playing through your headphones certainly helped, which was why you didn’t see Bucky as he returned, a coffee in each hand.
Bucky called your name before seeing your earbuds. He transferred the coffee cups into one hand and gently laid a hand on your shoulder. Which was exactly the wrong thing to do. You screamed, stumbling back and again falling flat on your ass, wielding your putty scraper like a weapon. This time, though, Bucky laughed. A head thrown back, hand on hips laugh that you heard even over your music. You ripped out your earbuds, a hand placed over your heart and joined him. He held out a hand to help you up and then offered you one of the coffee cups in his vibranium hand, which you noticed, was not covered by a glove.
“You are going to be the death of me, Barnes.” You said, not knowing why you had the urge to call him by his last name, but the blush on his cheeks made it clear he liked it.
After he left the cemetery, Bucky had begrudgingly called Sam. He had been out of the game for…a long time. Sam, after teasing him relentlessly, had told him to just be direct. Ask you out for coffee, if that would be easier than dinner. So instead, Bucky brought the coffee to you.
You reached out to grab the coffee, brushing the hair back from your face with your other hand and smudging dirt across your forehead. Without pausing to think, Bucky leaned forward and swiped a thumb across your forehead, clearing the smudge. “You had some dirt.”
He was being bashful, you thought. That had to be a good sign that he wasn't angry with you. That and the coffee he had brought. Maybe you hadn’t truly messed everything up.
“Thanks,” you breathe out, holding up the coffee in a salute.
“Do you have time for a break?” Bucky asks, nodding towards the bench just across from you.
“Yeah, just give me a second to rinse this one off.” Bucky reaches for the coffee cup and then watches you work, spraying down the stone with water and watching the brown suds clear. You held such concentration, such reverence as you moved around the stone, making sure all of the soap was gone, reaching down to swipe away a few errant strands of grass that had plastered to the bottom of the stone. He liked the way your nose scrunched in concentration, the tilt of your head as you examined your work. When you were done, you looked up and he realized you had caught him staring, but you gave him a soft smile, reaching out your hand.
“Okay, all set.” You said, taking the coffee he offered back to your outstretched hand. You walked over to the bench, sitting close but not touching. At first the silence was awkward, both not sure what to say. Bucky ran a hand across the back of his neck, letting out a quiet chuckle before turning to you.
“I want to say thank you. For taking care of my parents' graves. That was…I just really appreciate it. They deserve that.” He finally said.
“It was my pleasure. You deserve it too, you know.” You wanted to shy away from his gaze but you held strong, making sure to look in his eyes so he would know you meant it.
“I don’t know about that.” You noticed the instant his body language changed and you knew not to push so you changed the subject, asking him gentle questions about his parents and were pleasantly surprised when he answered. He told you stories about growing up with his best friend Steve, the trouble they would get into. He asked you about your grandmother, about your life before the blip. You didn’t realize how much time had gone by until the sky began to darken, your coffee long gone.
Bucky helped you store your tools into the shed and offered to walk you home. This time, he said goodbye at your door, not coming inside and you reached up to wrap him in a quick hug before you lost your nerve. He was stiff at first before he wrapped his arm around you. He smelled like leather and citrus.
You watched him as he walked down the steps, turning once to give you a wave. When you head in, locking the door behind you, eager to take a shower and wash off the dirt, your hand brushes against something in the pocket of your sweater. You reach in and pull out a folded piece of paper with a phone number scrawled across it and on the back “dinner tomorrow?”
You can't help the excited squeal as you hold the note to your chest before sticking it on the fridge with a magnet. You make yourself wait to text him until after your shower. You rush through making dinner, settle in on your sofa and clutch the phone in your hand like a lifeline. Finally, you type in his number.
“That was very sly of you, Barnes.”
“Too much?” he responds, just a moment later. You grin at the phone.
“Not at all. Tomorrow night is great. Where should I meet you?”
“I’ll pick you up. 7 okay?”
“Perfect.” You send with a smile.
When he picks you up the next evening, he has a bouquet in his hands. He walks you to a diner just a few blocks away, and you grin up at him. It was a favorite spot for you and your grandmother. The waitress, Stella, an old friend of your grandmother gives you a hug when you come in, ushering you to a corner booth and teasing you about how handsome your date is.
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Over the next few weeks, Bucky consumes your life. He meets you at the cemetery each week, walking you home at night. Sometimes he comes in, and you watch a movie on your couch, usually ending up with your head on his shoulder. You meet for coffee and sometimes dinner at the diner. You spend late nights on the phone. Through bits and pieces, he starts to share his life with you. His past life, his guilt.
Sometimes he stays the night, though usually only when you both fall asleep on the couch and you have both yet to make a move, to turn this into something more. On one of those nights you wake in your bed, unsure of how you got there before seeing Bucky hunched over on the couch, clearly not sleeping. He must have picked you up and tucked you in after you fell asleep. You sit up, whispering a quiet “hey”, just to make sure he really was awake. He turns to you then, and you see his eyes, haunted and wide. You move towards him slowly, not wanting to make any sudden movements and frighten him away. As you sit down next to him on the couch, you take his hand in yours, rubbing your fingers over his knuckles.
“Nightmares?” you ask, already knowing the answer. He had mentioned them to you before, though only briefly and never wanting to get into them.
He nods, still not turning to look at you.
“Do you want to talk about it?” you ask, voice still low. He shakes his head and you lean in closer, trying to offer him your warmth.
“Okay. What can I do?” you ask. At first you think he isn’t going to answer, but then he inhales and lets out a long breath, angling towards you.
“Why do you clean the tombstones?” he asks. His voice is rough from lack of sleep.
It takes you a minute to answer, not sure exactly what to say.
“I think…,” you start before taking a breath, “I think it’s because I felt so alone. Alone and worthless, if I’m being honest. I guess I didn’t feel like I had done enough to help my grandma when she was alive. Maybe it started as a way to try and apologize to her.” Bucky looked up at that, eyes wide. You shifted closer to him and he draped an arm around your shoulders.
“I think it started out of guilt, out of…just emptiness, but the more that I did it, the more I felt useful. It sounds silly but I never felt alone when I was in the cemetery. I felt…feel…safe and comforted.”
You are both quiet for a long time before Bucky speaks. “I’ve been working since my pardon to...make amends. For the things I did.”
“Bucky, that wasn’t you. You didn’t have control…” you start and he shakes his head. “I know. I know that. But the things he did. I’m not him anymore, but those things are still in my head, it doesn’t feel like it’s separate from me and I can’t…” he breaks off in a gasp.
You pull him in closer, wrapping your arms around him and carding your hands through his hair.
“Do you think maybe it might help? Cleaning the stones? Would you teach me?” You lean back just enough to look in his eyes.
“Of course I’ll teach you, Bucky. I don’t know if it will help but of course I will.”
And you do. You meet in the cemetery twice a week, showing him how to scrape and scrub. How to check for damage before continuing. Bucky is surprised to find that he truly enjoys the work. It forces him to concentrate just enough to clear his mind and he likes being outside. He tells you that in time, he’d like to look for some of the Winter Soldier’s victims, to find where they are buried and do the same for them and you spend evenings researching with him, keeping lists of places you hope you will be able to go with him.
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When Autumn is in full swing and the temperatures dip into the forties, making it unsafe for the gravestones to be wet, you still meet in the cemetery, sometimes sharing a picnic, sometimes just talking. It had become such a part of his routine now, something he didn’t have to think about. It left room to think about your smile, your kind, sweet voice, the lavender scent of your hair. He could think about how close you had become, something just more than friendship.
Bucky had been waiting on the bench beneath the maple tree for the last 45 minutes. After thirty, he had called you, just to check-in. For the last few months you had been meeting, you had never missed a day. You had never been so much as five minutes late and he was starting to worry. He wiped his palm on his black jeans, realizing he was sweating.
He couldn’t stop the thoughts that immediately rushed through his mind. Glimpses of you, taken by invisible hands. Someone taking revenge for the things he had been forced to do. After the third unanswered call, he bolts up, unable to pause to wonder if he is overreacting. He’s at your apartment in no time, knocking on the door.
You hear the sound, a gentle knock, coming from just outside of your awareness. You had been lost in the hazy space between dreams and wakefulness and it was hard to open your eyes, fatigue weighing heavily on your entire body. You don’t remember when exactly you fell asleep or how long you’ve been in bed. It could quite possibly have been last night or two days ago. It felt as if every muscle in your body had been hammered with a meat tenderizer and your throat was on fire. Your chest tightened every time you let out a shaky breath, wheezing as you attempted to suck in air. You didn’t think you had ever felt so sick. You were drenched in sweat, sheets soaked through and yet you were shivering. You had the vaguest notion that you were meant to be somewhere, that you were forgetting something important but you couldn’t fight through the thick fog in your brain to remember. You attempted to sit up, desperate to get a drink of water but you felt as if you were moving through mud. You heard the knock again, wondering if you were still sleeping. You called out a weak hello, attempting again to get off your bed but stumbling and falling to the floor.
“Y/N, I’m coming in!” you heard, and though you were miserable you smiled at the sound of his voice.
“Bucky” you whispered.
You heard a loud bang and the sound of splintering wood.
He was by your side in an instant, placing the back of his hand against your forehead.
“Jesus, you’re burning up, doll.” Bucky gently lifts you up, placing you on the bed. You barely recognize the movements but you are instantly filled with relief.
“Have you taken anything for your fever?” he asks, brushing the hair from your eyes. You shake your head no.
“Shower,” you whisper, realizing just how crusty you feel. Bucky glances to the bathroom door and back to you. He gives a quick nod and searches your drawers for a pair of clothes for you to change into and a towel and stacks them neatly on the sink.
“Do you think you can manage?” he asks and you nod again, slowly standing up and accepting his help to the bathroom door. He turns on the water, adjusting the temperature so it is just slightly warm, not wanting to overheat you more than you already are.
“I’ll just be in the kitchen, okay?” His face is clouded with worry so you attempt to smile reassuringly but it doesn’t reach your eyes. You leave the door open a crack and only start to undress when you hear him in the kitchen, the comforting sounds of him making tea and rifling through your drawers.
Initially, the shower feels good, but after a few minutes, it is becoming increasingly difficult to stand. When you turn the water off, you hear a knock on the open door. Bucky reaches through the curtain to hand you your towel and you realize just how cold you are now that the water is off. Shivering, you towel off and wrap the towel around you, carefully opening the shower curtain and accepting Bucky’s hand. You briefly think this isn’t how you wanted the first time he saw you naked to go and Bucky chuckles, his face turning crimson. You must have said that out loud. There is no time to feel embarrassed at the moment, though, because all you want is to get back into your bed under hundreds of blankets and sleep for eternity.
Bucky turns around to let you get dressed as you sit on the edge of your bed for support and you notice that he’s also changed your bedsheets. There is a cup of tea perched on your nightstand along with a full cup of water and a bottle of ibuprofen. After helping you take the medicine and drink a few sips of tea, Bucky tucks you in, pulling the extra quilt from the end of your bed. He turns to leave just as your eyes drift closed but you hold out a hand, desperate in your fever haze for him to stay.
“Are you sure? I’ll just be right over there if you need me.” He points to the couch across your studio apartment, but you nod, grabbing onto his hand and tugging with what little strength you have. Bucky kicks off his boots and takes off his jacket.
He lies down next to you, stock still, feet crossed at the ankles and arms crossed over his chest.
“Cold.” You mutter, teeth chattering, and the sound breaks Bucky’s heart. He turns then, opening his arms and you shuffle closer. Bucky inhales as you snake your arm around his neck, leg hitching over his hip, just trying desperately to get warm and completely lacking any inhibitions you normally would have in your feverish state. Bucky pauses for a moment, frozen, before wrapping his arm around your back. His fingers trail through your hair as you nuzzle deeper into his shoulder and the last thing you remember before finally drifting to sleep is a gentle kiss on the crown of your head.
You wake often through the night, each time Bucky is already awake and looking at you, asking if you are alright. He gives you more ibuprofen once during the night but you never truly stop touching. The weight of his arm around you is a comfort. When you wake in the morning, the sun is already making its way higher in the sky and you don’t feel quite as achey. You roll over slightly, watching as the light drifts across the floor, filtered through the lace curtains. You reach a hand out to find Bucky but you are met with cold sheets. Had you dreamed he was there? But as you sit up, looking at the cup of tea you definitely don’t remember making, you find a note.
“Heading to the hardware store so I can fix your door. I’ll be back soon. - Bucky”
Fix your door? It occurs to you only now that Bucky must have kicked it in to get inside last night. You roll out of bed, grabbing the robe hanging on the bedpost and sliding your socked feet into your coziest pair of slippers before making your way to the bathroom. You splash some water on your face and brush your teeth before heading towards the kitchen. Bucky is already back, unloading a paper bag of every type of cold medicine you have ever seen. You smile gratefully at him as you see he also brought you a coffee and a bagel from the shop down the street that you love so much.
“Buck, you didn’t have to do any of this.” You said as you came up beside him. He takes a moment to answer, as if he is steeling himself to say something.
“I was, uh. I was really worried when you didn’t show and weren’t answering your phone.” He pauses to clear his throat. He fiddles with one of the boxes of medicine, turning it over in his hands before setting it back on the counter. He looked around your kitchen, eyes stopping at your fridge and the tiny note with his phone number that was still stuck there.
“I was worried that somehow…because of who I am, something had happened to you. And I realized how devastating that would be…to me. God, I was terrified, doll. I felt like I couldn’t breathe.” He stepped closer, cupping your cheek and lowering his forehead to yours.
“I’m sorry I worried you.” You whispered, just as he said “Your fever’s gone down.”
He chuckled.
“Please don’t be sorry. Honestly I kind of needed the push. Because I’ve been denying just how hard I’ve fallen for you.”
You sucked in a breath, looking up into crystal blue eyes that felt like home. After a moment Bucky let out a nervous chuckle.
“You’re killing me, doll. Say something. Am I out of line?”
“I really want to kiss you right now, Barnes.” You said, finally.
“What’s stopping you?”
“You’ll get sick,” you said with a smile.
“Super soldier, remember?”
“A definite perk, I guess.”
You were smiling as your lips touched, a gentle, sweet kiss that held the promise of something more. And despite the exhaustion in your bones, the ache in your head you were exquisitely happy.
“You need rest. Plus, I need to fix your door. Gotta keep my girl safe.” He said, giving you another peck on the lips. You couldn’t argue with that.
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epicstuckyficrecs · 2 years
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Weekly Recap | August 8th-28th
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Heyyyyyy everyone! Can’t believe summer is almost over :( Sooo this time my excuse for skipping a few weeks is being busy, seeing friends, etc etc, but also I somehow managed to fall back into Twilight 😆 
Complete
💙 Nothing Said by alby_mangroves/ @artgroves, theemdash/ @theemdash (Post-Endgame | 8K | Mature): There’s always been another war, another reason for Steve to keep his feelings to himself and keep moving on. For all his wishes to do things differently, he never figured out how. Which is why following Fury to the moon, passing on the shield, and leaving Bucky to discover himself seemed like the right answer. When Steve gets caught in a force field surrounding a crumbling civilization, he starts to realize everything he thought was wrong.
💙 i could have chained your heart to a star by PanoramicSubDrop/ @koiponderingart, powerfulowl (StuckyFlangst)/ @stuckyflangst (Canon divergent, Post-TFA | 16K | Explicit): Steve Rogers came out of the ice in 1965. Almost thirty years later he discovered Bucky Barnes had survived, and it seemed like a chance for a new beginning. But when Bucky say that he doesn't want Steve in his life anymore, Steve has to forge a life without Bucky. Now, in 2025, two aging supersoldiers find themselves back in Brooklyn, reconnecting.
💙 There is a Tavern in the Town by musette22/ @musette22 (Evanstan RPF | 10K | Explicit): It's 2011, and Chris and Sebastian are in the UK, filming for Captain America: The First Avenger. One evening, they head to a local pub for a pint and end up talking about the upcoming Bar Scene. Seb suggests they practice. 
WIP
💙 Okay, so he can play… (pretty’s got nothing to do with it) by darter_blue/ @darter-blue​ (University Hockey AU | 4/10 | 21K | Explicit): This is supposed to be Steve’s year. He’s meant to be taking his team to finals. He’s meant to be the number one draft pick. He’s meant to have it all. Until in walks the new kid, with his beautiful face and his tiny shoulders and his long hair and his graceful skating. Who doesn’t look anything like a proper hockey player. Who’s going to ruin everything. Bucky Barnes is about to bring Steve Roger’s world crashing down. And Steve is about to realise that’s a good thing.Maybe the best thing that ever happened to him.
💙 hey now, you’re an all star (get your game on, go play) by buckyismybicycle/ @buckyismybicycle​ (NHL Hockey AU | 2/? | 6K | Explicit): Boston Bruins trade notorious party animal/human disaster Bucky Barnes to the Dallas Stars, and captain Steve Rogers is not impressed when Fury puts him on babysitting duties. But, as he gets to know Bucky - really gets to know Bucky - he wonders if maybe the media has got it all wrong - very, very wrong.
This is (not) a Ghost Story [COMIC] by PottersPink/ @potterspink (Post-WS | 6/31 | General): Steve moves into a haunted house. Well — everyone else is convinced it’s haunted, anyways.
Re-read
💙 Love Me Tender Like What Keeps You Well by thiccbuckybarnes/ @thiccbuckybarnesfic​ (Historical A/B/O AU | 24K | Explicit): Steve Rogers, an alpha, widow, retired army captain, and master of the Allaheim estate, is happy to welcome new neighbors next to his manor in his pleasant little village of York. He hopes to gain new friends to brighten up his lonely life, and ends up getting much more than he bargained for when he meets the son of his new neighbor, James.
💙 As You Seep On In And Keep Me Down by thiccbuckybarnes/ @thiccbuckybarnesfic​ (Shrunkyclunks AU | 8K | Explicit): Bucky Barnes is a man of many names.But first and foremost, he’s an ass man. He likes his guys small, able to be bent in half when he fucks them. He likes being bigger, being in control, likes crowding little twinks up and wrecking them so thoroughly they cry.But he makes the wrong judgement when he first sees Steve in a bar; Steve’s all height, wide shoulders and muscle, clearly wouldn’t want the things that Bucky wants. It isn’t until he sees Steve shrink up from rejection, sees how pretty his cheeks look in an embarrassed flush, that he realizes that Steve is everything he wants.It’s a good thing, too, when Steve gives him a second chance because if he hadn’t, Bucky would have missed out on the meal of his life.
💙 It's Been A Long Season Through by thiccbuckybarnes/ @thiccbuckybarnesfic​ (Stardew Valley AU | 49K | Explicit): Bucky Barnes is in desperate need of a change in scenery, which is why he makes the foolhardy decision to quit his job, leave his asshole of a fiance, pack up his life, and move to his grandfather’s old farm all within a single day.He expects confusion, hardship, and maybe even failure. But love? He wasn’t expecting that. (Part 1 of Stardew Valley AU)
💙 oh, peach pit, where'd the hours go? by thiccbuckybarnes/ @thiccbuckybarnesfic​ (Stardew Valley AU | 10K | Explicit): Or, Steve learns that just because he and Bucky got their happily ever after, it doesn’t mean the past won’t come back to bite them. (Part 2 of Stardew Valley AU)
💙 Blooming Under the Dappled Light by thiccbuckybarnes/ @thiccbuckybarnesfic​ (Historical AU, False Identity | 52K | Explicit): Despite being the son of a gentleman, James "Bucky" Barnes could scarcely allow himself the hope of one day being tied to another in happy matrimony. In a society where the first-born children are revered and inherit all of a family's wealth, last-born Bucky feels trapped in a life he did not ask for.When he makes the drastic decision to run away and become a tutor for a wealthy family, he is hoping to save enough pennies to someday have a dowry and be worthy for marriage despite his disposition. What he is not anticipating, however, is falling into the rough and skilled hands of his employer, the rakish widow Lord Steven Rogers.
💙 G.I. Joes and 2AM Diners by OhCaptainMyCaptain/ @ohcaptainmycaptain1918​ (Modern AU, Childhood Friends | 100K | Explicit): They look nothing like what they used to. Time and life have completely changed them. But as they sit there in silence, eating two halves of one cupcake, letting Brooklyn remind there where they came from, and enjoying a sky full of stars… They are those same little boys, somewhere deep down. For just a second, you’d be able to see them again.And Bucky thinks to himself that maybe it’s little moments like these – fleeting as they may be – that remind him why life is still worth living.
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starkstruck27 · 1 year
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Little Harringrove ficlet set in like 2019, just before they get together
"You know, if we were superheroes, you'd be the Winter Soldier to my Captain America."
Steve had said it so casually, Billy almost hadn't paid it any mind. He was way too absorbed in cleaning up after their movie marathon, and so exhausted that he almost dreaded doing it again tomorrow night. He'd somehow thought that four to five movies a night would be no big deal, especially since Steve was letting him stay over at his house all week, but there was a lot to follow in these films, and entirely too many characters to keep track of. Still, Steve said they had to rewatch all of them before going to see the new one, Endgame or whatever, and Billy had finally let his best friend talk him into a movie marathon. He had a hard time saying no to him.
They'd started off with only four, watching Iron Man, The Incredible Hulk (which wasn't even part of the official lineup, but Steve insisted it was essential to establish the character), Iron Man 2, and Thor. The next night, they also did four, going from Captain America: The First Avenger, The Avengers, Iron Man 3, and Thor: The Dark World.
Then tonight, they watched Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Guardians of the Galaxy, Avengers: Age of Ultron, and Ant-Man. They would've watched Captain America: Civil War, too, but they were both tired and had to get up early the next day, so they said they could do it tomorrow.
And now, just after he'd said it, as Billy folded the blankets and Steve swept the popcorn off the couch cushions, Billy stopped and stared at him.
"So, I remind you of a homicidal maniac with a metal arm that killed and injured numerous people without a second thought?" He asked bitterly, remembering the long-haired assassin that beat Captain America to a bloody pulp and then left him for dead on the bank of a river. "Gee, thanks."
"Well, yeah, that's part of him, too, but that's not what I meant," Steve said, tossing a popcorn kernel at Billy.
"Well, what did you mean, then?" Billy asked.
"I'm not giving you any spoilers! You'll just have to keep watching and figure it out." Steve gave him his most innocent evil smirk, and Billy only sighed. He loved his best friend, but he could be a fucking menace when he wanted to be.
The next night, they watched five movies. Starting with Civil War, then going on to Doctor Strange, Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2, Spider-Man: Homecoming, and Thor: Ragnarok. Billy liked them all, but he still didn't get what Steve meant when he said he was like Bucky. And Steve still wouldn't tell him outright what he meant, because he didn't want to risk spoiling the movies, even though Billy assured him 100 times he didn't care.
The night after that, they watched the last four movies, since the next day they had tickets to go and see Endgame. Starting with Black Panther, then going on to Avengers: Infinity War, Ant-Man and the Wasp, and finally, Captain Marvel.
Billy hated to admit it, but he was getting just as into these movies as Steve was, and he was almost as excited for the new movie tomorrow, too. Still, he couldn't figure out what Steve had meant the other day. But he didn't want to ask again, he couldn't let Steve know it was bothering him.
But as they cleaned up the snacks and the trash, the pillows and the blankets and put the living room back together, he didn't have to.
"So, have you figured it out yet?" Steve asked as he fluffed the ugly, uncomfortable and probably really expensive throw pillows.
"Not really. I mean, I guess I get it a little. We're best friends, your name is Steve and mine starts with a B, ends in a y, and has two syllables, and even though we fight sometimes, we still stay friends or whatever. I still don't understand why I have to be the tortured cyborg and you get to be the popular Golden Boy, but it's whatever," Billy replied, shrugging as he picked up the dishes to take them to the kitchen. He could feel his heart stutter when Steve laughed.
"Actually, most of the people who like Marvel actually like Bucky more than Steve, but that's besides the point. You got part of it, but there's more to what I said than that."
He stopped fussing with the pillows then, and instead walked over to Billy, taking the plates and cups from his hands and putting them back on the coffee table. He was so close that their toes touched, and Billy could smell the pizza, popcorn and sugar on his breath. Billy almost sqeaked in surprise at the sudden proximity, and he could feel his heart start to speed in his chest.
"Soooo... you wanna clue me in then?" He asked, not quite sure where to look or what to do with his hands. Steve was taller than him, and he wasn't sure what to do with someone when he couldn't look down at them. It made him feel a little out of place, and he didn't know how to get back to the way he always felt with Steve. Like he could mess with him, be near him, talk to him and do anything with him and be perfectly happy with it. He wanted to always feel like that, but right now it felt different, like there was something hanging in the air between them that neither of them wanted to address just yet.
"Well, another thing that fans do, besides just liking Bucky more, is they like to analyze their relationship. I do that, too, sometimes, and I realized their dynamic is a lot like ours. We were friends, then some shit happened and we weren't, you beat me up a little, finally told me about all the shit you'd been through, and finally we were able to heal and get you some help. Maybe you're not 100% perfect yet, but we know we have each other and we know that we're gonna be with each other til the end of the line. Or, at least, I hope we will," Steve said, and despite how nervous Billy felt, he was a little flattered, too. Steve was one of the only good things left in his life, and to hear him say that he wanted Billy by his side through the rest of his life felt pretty amazing. Billy could already imagine it, the two of them living through thick and thin and still going to see their silly little superhero movies together 50 years later, when Marvel would release Captain America 24.
"But that's not all," Steve continued, bringing Billy out of his thoughts. "A lot of fans, myself included, look at the two of them and think they'd make a cute couple, some of us even believing that they already are one, but Marvel is just giving Steve female love interests because they're owned by Disney and are too cowardly to have any of the characters identify as LGBTQ+. But like I said, a lot of fans already ship the two of them together."
Billy felt his mouth going dry, his eyes searching Steve's face for any kind of confirmation that he meant what he was saying, that he wasn't reading this wrong. He figured it was pretty blatant what he was saying, there wasn't a whole lot of room to mistake this, but he wanted to be absolutely sure before he made a fool of himself.
"So what are you... what are you trying to tell me?" Billy asked, holding his breath.
"I'm trying to tell you that if I were Steve Rogers, and if you were Bucky Barnes, and the two of us had fought together in World War 2, been inseparable on both schoolyard and battlefield, promised each other that we'd be together until the end of the line, and I'd fought an entire Civil War against 117 countries to protect you because I never gave up on you... somewhere in there, I might’ve developed a feeling a bit stronger than just friendship for you."
"And if we weren't superheroes... If we were just ordinary people watching the movies, if you were just Steve Harrington and I was just Billy Hargrove... what then?"
Steve flashed him a smile, and Billy practically melted right there as Steve took one baby step closer, his fingers gentle brushing over Billy's arms before gripping his hands tightly.
"Well, if that were the case, then I'd say I've definitely developed those feelings a long time ago, but I was just too scared to say anything about it until now. And I'd say that I definitely really want to kiss you right now."
And who was Billy to refuse a sweet request like that? He finally had an opportunity to kiss Steve like he'd always wanted to, and he wasn't going to pass that up. He didn't waste any time in crashing their lips together, holding Steve close to him with one hand in his stupid perfect hair and the other wrapped around his back, nearly crushing him into himself. Steve hummed with laughter as he placed one of his hands on Billy's shoulders, the other resting on his hip where Billy's hand came to rest, covering it. They both felt alive with an electric charge going between their bodies, and even though they'd both closed their eyes and couldn't see, they knew they were both smiling like idiots. Billy could feel his heart jack-rabbiting in his chest, as if trying to tire itself out, but it was useless. Steve had never felt more butterflies in his stomach than he did right now, no one else had made it fill up with that many cocoons that had hatched all at once.
When they pulled apart, they couldn't help but giggle a little bit. Their respective little siblings would be both proud and incredibly too smug if they knew what had just happened. Max would be glad that they'd finally quit it with the pining, and Dustin would absolutely never shut up about how they were nerds just as much as he was. But right now they didn't have to think about their siblings, all they could think about was each other.
"Y'know, I think that in all those movies, Black Widow was only wrong about one thing," Billy said, smiling stupidly as he continued to hold Steve close. "Not everyone needs practice when it comes to kissing."
Steve laughed at that, loud and carefree, and Billy wished he would never have to go without that laugh. If Steve had really meant what he said though, he wouldn't have to. After all, they were gonna be stuck with each other from now on.
They'd be with each other til the end of the line.
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thatsmzbitchtoyou · 1 month
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Breaking the Class Ceiling Chapter 3
This is set in early 1900s U.S.A., during the Edwardian era with some style changes into the upcoming Art Nouveau period. I've changed history a bit for this. Pretending that America didn't have a full Civil War and trying to create a more optimistic outcome for the purposes of the story. I've also tried to research what the rules for society/socializing were back then, and tweaked some of them.
Warnings for upcoming chapters: minor character death, some sexual harassment/assault (but nothing too graphic or traumatic), smut
***
“You’re courting the Barnes boy?  A clerk?  You can’t be serious?!” your uncle Alonso yelled.  After your announcement and making plans to see Bucky again soon for different parties and outings to make it publicly official, your uncle had been polite to the Barneses’ faces, but the simmering anger in his eyes was enough warning to you that he was livid.  “After all the work I’ve put in for you to meet the men of high society in New York, get you audiences with each of them, I was making plans with the Rogers boy and the Rumlowe lad.  His uncle Alexander Pierce would be a great asset to our–” he cut himself off quickly, knowing he messed up, “your, your investments.”
You scoffed.  “Brock Rumlowe?  I’d rather eat my own hair than associate with that pathetic man.  And his uncle Pierce?  You know he’s been caught dealing with American enemies and defaulting on his loans, don’t you?  And as for Rogers, as wonderful as he is, he’s near betrothed to and hopelessly in love with the Carter girl.  Even if I wanted him, why would I get in the way of that?  Have you no honor, uncle?”  You stared at him in disbelief.  
Alonso was stumped, his mouth agape as he internalized the information you had.  “Alonso,” you started, feeling exasperated and done with his meddling, “I made myself clear while we were on holiday.  I let you come with me because I genuinely wanted to have a familial relationship with you after I lost the rest of my family.  But you made your intentions clear from the start as you tried to marry me off to every man of status in Europe.  As I have told you before, you do not speak for me,” you reiterated your stance, glaring at him.  “I get to choose, I get to decide.  This is my life, I have access and authority over my inheritance, thanks to my father, not you.  I am under no delusions that you are trying to use me for said inheritance, to financially better yourself.  So how about I make you a deal, since you like to pretend you're a great businessman?” you mocked him, sitting down at the desk and throwing a contract at him.  He picked the paper up, examining it as you continued.  “I’ll pay you to go away.  A yearly stipend that in your old age should last you as long as you don’t gamble it away like you have the rest of your money.”  Alonso glared back at you, his fingers tightening around the paper.  “I think it’s high time for you to go back home to England, uncle.  You will leave with dignity, not reach out to me, and leave me to live my life.  It’s either this, or I will throw you out of my house and you can fend for yourself on the streets of New York and stow yourself away to England.  The choice is yours.”
Alonso frowned, “Well what choice do I have, really?”
You smiled pettily.  “None, really.  It’s more than generous.  So sign it, pack your things, and go home.  I will send you a wedding announcement when the time comes, but you are not invited.”
“You cannot be serious that you want to marry Barnes,” he accused, his eyes flaring again.
“I don’t know if I will marry Bucky, uncle.  We just barely announced our courtship, don’t jump to conclusions,” you waved his mock concern away.  “Your worry is misplaced and unwarranted, and quite frankly does not affect or concern you.  Now sign it, my patience has worn thin,” you warned him through gritted teeth, shoving a pen across the desk.  
***
The courtship was met with surprise, which you both expected.  But times were changing rapidly, and you as the progressive woman you were did not care for others’ opinions.  Bucky was still getting used to you and felt himself catching up constantly.  You were open with calling him pet names, touching him, removing your gloves and letting him kiss your bare hands in public, all to cause a stir and make it clear you were taken and unapologetic about who you chose to associate with.  He played into it, kissing your hands at random times, standing what would be considered too close while in public and at parties, whispering in your ear, and while at the shows you went to reach over to hold your hand and then squeeze your thigh randomly.  There were lots of rumors and gossip, but you couldn’t care less as you paraded him around that summer season. 
As the season came to a close you decided to throw one last summer party, expanding it from the grand ballroom inside to your outdoor courtyard since it was hot.  You had been the talk of the town as people wondered what you’d wear this time.  Each party and show you’d gone to had been a new adventure as you modified the American fashions with pieces you acquired from your travels.  Bucky helped you plan everything, writing out the invitations with his expert penmanship, and although he tried to see what it was you were planning on wearing, you wouldn’t budge, only giving him a swatch of bright red fabric and sending him off with Amir to help design the outfit. 
The invitations were sent and the day had come.  The mansion was decorated in a Moroccan theme with brightly colored draping set along the ceilings, flowers cascading from every high surface, bulbous lamps with ornate designs cut into the metal, candles set in jewel toned glasses, and many of the tropical plants that were movable from the greenhouse to the ballroom.  Heavy spices filled the air as foreign Arabian music played interspersed with American tunes.  The guests filed in and stared in wonder at the spectacle of it all, most of them having never seen anything like it before.  Bucky arrived after getting picked up by your car, wearing an outfit called a sherwani that Amir had helped design for the event.  It was a bright red color with intricate gold embroidery around the shoulders and on the chest.  The pants he wore underneath were the same red that tapered down to velvet shoes that felt like slippers on his feet.  Amir had also helped him trim up his beard as he had been letting it grow once you stated how much you enjoyed good-looking facial hair.  Many of the guests showed up in some semblance of Arabian clothing, trying to match with the theme, although many came in their regular dress clothes, unsure of what it meant.  
As the party started and you made your entrance into the room it felt like everything froze in time.  You were wearing a bright red flowing dress that reached to your ankles.  Bucky noted your feet were covered by gold jewelry that were attached to your ankle but otherwise bare.  The dress, which Amir whispered to him was called an abaya, had a neckline and buttons down the front that were embroidered the same as his sherwani was, with gold threading and some sparkling gems interlaced throughout.  The sleeves were connected to the dress in a way that made it so when you spread your arms wide the entire thing seemed to expand like you were spreading wings.  You wore a corset this time, which could be slightly seen through the thin fabric and pushed your breasts up higher than normal, peeking out from the neckline of the abaya.  Your wrists were layered with gold and red bangles, with a red tattoo design covering your hands, henna as Amir explained.  Your ears were laden with long dangling earrings that matched the bulbous lamp decor and some gold cuff earrings along the top of your ears.  Your hair was free flowing and wavy like from an undone braid with rubies hanging from a gold beaded headpiece atop your head.  
Bucky felt like the air was sucked from his lungs as he watched you walk into the room.  The whispers around him were nothing new, but there was a hushed reverence that night as what looked like an otherworldly being was now in their presence.  As you walked to the middle of the dance floor and waited, Bucky rushed forward to properly greet you and be the first to dance with you, as was customary when two people were courting.  He approached you and gave you a deep bow then reached out for your hand.  You gave it to him, then he kissed it before straightening up and giving you an appreciative once-over.
“You look…ethereal, my pretty doll,” he complimented you quietly as the band in a balcony above took their positions.
“You are quite dashing yourself, my darling,” you gave him a head bow back, your eyes raking over him as well.
“May I have this dance?” he asked, squeezing your fingers softly.
“Always,” you smiled warmly, then whispered, “as long as you help me not fall over from how tight this corset is.”  Bucky snickered at your complaint, nodding as he held you.
The night drew on with great success.  Although you were courting you were still expected to dance with others at the party as the host.  You took your turns with different men, speaking politely and promising audiences with their mothers or sisters, and taking breaks with different groups of women you would gossip with before the next dance.  As you spoke to a group of ladies that you had become close with you felt a hand tap your shoulder firmly.  You turned to see Brock Rumlowe leering above you, a sickly sweet smile on his face.
“Lady Y/L/N, may I have the next dance?” he asked, although it sounded more like a demand.
“Of course,” you answered politely, giving him a tight smile in return.  As you excused yourself from your friends you gave them a meaningful wide-eyed stare away from his view, silently asking them to watch out for you.  They subtly nodded as you took his arm and he led you back to the dance floor.
Rumlowe guided you to the center then pulled you in too close for comfort.  You tried to pull away minutely but his hold was unyielding.  He was watching you like prey as you started the dance.
“You look ravishing, Y/N,” he complimented you in a deep voice, his hand on your back slightly slipping lower.  You didn’t stop him at first, continuing the dance as you refused to look at him.
“I don’t believe we’re in the type of relationship for you to be calling me by my first name, Mr. Rumlowe,” you chastised him quietly.  His grip on you tightened, making you wince since you were already sucked in by the corset.
“So, you and Barnes, huh?  I was under the impression that you were looking for someone of status.  Your uncle was quite adamant when he came to my house a couple of months ago,” he droned on, ignoring your previous remark.
“I’m sorry he was misinformed.  I’m looking for someone of substance, not just status, to share my life with.  He’s a good man,” you defended Bucky quickly, praying for this song to be over already.  Rumlowe just oozed a bad energy, and you didn’t feel safe with him, especially this close.
“Am I not good?  What on earth could a poor, insignificant clerk have that I couldn’t give you in spades?” he whipped you around as the music picked up, his hand sliding down again dangerously close to the swell of your behind.  You gave him a warning glare.  “What is it, his looks?  His charms?  Or maybe something a bit more…scandalous?  I can give you scandalous, sweetheart,” he murmured as his hand found the cheek of your butt.  You quickly grabbed that hand and firmly placed it back on your waist, frowning deeply at his grin.  
“You will remember your manners, Mr. Rumlowe, or I will have you removed from this party,” you gave him one last warning, glaring daggers at him.  “I am merely dancing with you out of courtesy, not because I want to.  I am being courted.  You will do well to keep your hands to yourself.”
He chuckled darkly.  “Come on, Y/N, where’s that rebellious spirit of yours now?” he teased, his hand now slipping around to your side.  “I do like a spitfire,” he growled in your ear as his hand came around and groped the side of your breast.  You gasped as you pulled out of his arms, and with as much strength that you could muster slapped him across the face.  He quickly stepped back with a grunt as he held his face.  The slap attracted the attention of everyone around you as the band played on, oblivious to the scene below.  Dancing couples around you gasped and got out of the way as Rumlowe straightened himself, pulling his hand away and seeing a small drop of blood on his fingers from where his lip split.  He gave you a murderous glare as you glared back at him.
“Do. Not. Touch. Me,” you seethed.  Your breathing picked up as you felt a panic attack coming on, your chest heaving as you tried to keep a straight face.  “Leave.  Now!” your voice echoed through the room, catching more people’s attention.
Bucky had been catching up with Steve, unaware of your predicament, until he heard your voice, then he quickly found you and saw you with Rumlowe.  “Shit,” he mumbled and turned to Steve.  “Go find Alexander Pierce and get him to take his stupid nephew home before I kill him,” he instructed him.  Steve took two seconds to assess what was going on, his face hardening as he nodded his head.  “He’s no longer welcome,” Bucky growled, striding toward you as quickly as possible.  
Rumlowe looked around at everyone staring, wiping his mouth quickly then giving you a mocking deep bow.  “As you wish, my lady,” he gave you a menacing smile, then turned and strutted through the crowd towards the punch bowl table.  Your eyes were threatening to well up with tears, your breaths getting shorter and heavier as you watched him leave.  You couldn’t stand the stares anymore and quickly made your way out of the ballroom towards the dark back rooms that weren’t being used.  
Bucky watched you leave and made his way to where you were going through a different door.  He followed the hallway down, unsure of which direction you’d gone, until he could hear panting.  He followed the sound until he found you hidden in a room that was mostly dark except for a few candles in sconces along the walls.  You were breathing fast, your chest rising and falling too quickly, one hand on your chest and the other steadying you against the wall.
“Oh, doll, what happened?” Bucky ran up to you, placing his hand on your upper back and rubbing it comfortingly.  You spared him a glance, tears streaming down your face and your mouth open wide as you tried to get air.
“Rumlowe, he…he touched me,” you panted, your hands now on your hips as you tried to catch your breath.  
“He touched you?” Bucky was seeing red, his anger bubbling in his chest, his heart feeling like it dropped to his stomach.  “I’m going to kill him, where did he touch you?” He tried to distract you and grabbed your face with his hands, rubbing your cheeks and making you focus on him.
“My…my backside,” *wheeze* “and the side of my breast,” you were panicking.  “I can’t…I can’t breath!” Bucky scanned you, noting just how tight the corset underneath really was.  
“Of course you can’t breathe in this, doll,”  he said, then made a quick decision.  He moved his hands to the top of the dress and made quick work of the buttons.  You gasped and tried to push his hands away.
“What are you doing?” you squeaked, your eyes widening.  He knocked your hands away and finished the buttons low enough to get access to the corset.  As much as it gave you a great shape it was too restricting.  He started ripping at the hooks in the corset, pulling it apart from your body.  You were crying, your hands steadying you against the wall as you tried to breathe.  Finally he got to the bottom and pulled the corset roughly, freeing your ribs.  You inhaled deeply, wheezing as you finally were able to fill your lungs fully.  Your body slumped against the wall and Bucky caught you, keeping you upright by pinning you against it without crushing you.  You sobbed as you wrapped your arms around his middle, your fingers digging into his back as he held you.
“It’s alright, my love, I’m here,” he cooed, one hand petting the back of your head and the other rubbing your back.  “Steve’s taking care of it, he won’t hurt you.  I’ll make sure of it.  I’m so sorry, my pretty doll.”
He let you cry as you calmed down, your fingers and arms loosening around him as you relaxed.  You hiccuped and he pulled away, taking your face in his hands again.  Your face was wet with tears, your eyes and cheeks red.  You quickly wiped your nose and mouth, trying to put yourself back together.  
“Thank you,” you sighed, “for helping me.  I’m never wearing a corset again,” you joked, trying to lighten the mood.  
Bucky hummed but didn’t smile, watching to make sure you were alright.  He knew you were trying to save face, but you looked dejected.  “Don’t hide from me, love.  Are you alright?”
You looked down and after a moment shook your head.  “He embarrassed me, in front of everyone.  If there is one thing I cannot abide by, it’s someone purposefully trying to humiliate me.  He t-touched me,” you shuddered at the memory.  “He’s disgusting!”
“He is,” Bucky agreed, wiping your cheeks again with his fingers as he held your face.
“He insulted you,” you mumbled forlornly, looking at him with sad eyes.  “You, my darling, my sweet man.  As if he could compare?  The audacity of that pathetic excuse of a man,” you spat, furiously sniffing and holding onto his wrists.  
Bucky smiled proudly at you praising him.  You had stood up for him, even when it was of great personal cost to you.  He had been falling in love hard over the summer season, and this only cemented the fact that he knew he was going to marry you someday.
“Bucky?” Steve’s voice rang through the outside hall.  You and Bucky jumped.  Bucky turned around and covered you as you pulled your dress back together to cover your indecency, turning towards the wall.  Steve jogged through the door and sighed when he found you both.  If he was surprised by how close the two of you were he didn’t show it.  “Rumlowe’s gone.  Mr. Pierce was quite distraught over the fact that his nephew had offended tonight’s host.  Are you alright Y/N?” he asked tentatively.  
You half turned to him and gave him a quick nod and smile.  “Yes, I’ll be fine, thank you Steve, for your help,” you thanked him quickly before turning away.  
Steve eyed Bucky suspiciously when you didn’t fully address him.  “Could you help find one of Y/N’s maids?  She requires a bit of assistance with her wardrobe,” Bucky eyed Steve back, giving him a lopsided smile.
Steve silently laughed at the face Bucky gave him. “Yeah, sure punk.  You two be good while I’m gone,” he sing-songed as he walked back towards the party.
“Jerk!” Bucky called back.  You giggled behind him at their antics.  “Oh, you think that’s funny?” Bucky whirled back around to you.  You nodded, still turned away.  
Shortly a maid came running into the room, looking horrified at the fact that the lady of the house was spilling out of her bodice.  She shooed Bucky out of the room as you explained to the maid what happened and they removed your corset completely.  Bucky returned to the party to check on everything.  The band had stopped and were looking around confusedly as guests were all gossiping about what had happened between you and Rumlowe.  “What a cad, how dare he?”  “I knew there was something off about him, and that uncle of his.”  Bucky smiled ruefully, hoping this would be enough to run them out of town.  
“Ladies and gentlemen!” he called loudly to the crowd.  They all turned to him.  “Our host Lady Y/L/N apologizes for the interruption.  She will be rejoining us shortly.  She wishes for you all to carry on and not focus on the unfortunate, but rather the champagne!” he clapped his hands as the crowd laughed at his joke.  He was shocked to see waiters come pouring out from the wings with glasses of champagne on serving trays as if he’d made them appear by magic.  Why did they do as he said?  He wasn’t the man of the house, only another guest.  It was strange to have such power in a room full of the most important people in New York.
A few minutes later you walked through another door, your abaya fixed and your face free of the streaks of tears.  The guests applauded as you came back in, congratulating you on handling a rough situation as you rejoined the crowd.  You looked around until you found Bucky, quickly walking up to him and slipping your arm around his.  “Let us take a turn around the room and host, my darling,” you said loudly enough for those around you to hear, putting on the charade of an unbothered hostess.  
Bucky smiled but held back for a moment.  He leaned down so only you could hear him.  “Did you rid yourself of that infernal torture device?” 
You looked at him puzzled, until your eyes lit up and you laughed loudly.  “The corset?  Haha, yes.  I meant it, no more for me.”
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