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beefromanoff · 2 days

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Tempting Fate Ch. 2

summary: another flashback, Evie's first day at Stark Industries, and a run in with our two favorite Super Soldiers.

author's note: on my frequent updating gameee! let me know what you think, thanks for reading, xo!

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tag list: tag list: @yiiiikesmish @sunflower1290 @barnescamboy @thedisc0spider @bitchy-bi-trash @kulteule @kandis-mom @i-mushi @unknown-writings

1940’s, Brooklyn

The marquee lights of the local theater cast a warm glow over the bustling street. The smell of popcorn wafted through the air as people milled about, eagerly awaiting the next showing of the latest blockbuster. Among them, Ginny, Steve, and Bucky stood, their faces lit with excitement.

"Come on, guys, we have to be quiet," Ginny whispered, stifling a giggle. She glanced around, making sure no one was watching as they approached the side entrance of the theater.

Steve, ever the cautious one, hesitated. "I still don’t think we should be doing this," he muttered.

"Relax, Stevie. We’ve done this a hundred times," Bucky replied with a grin. He gently pushed the door open, revealing the dimly lit hallway beyond.

"Yeah, live a little, Steve," Ginny teased, taking his hand and pulling him inside. Bucky followed, closing the door quietly behind them.

They tiptoed through the narrow hallway, stifling their laughter as they approached the back of the theater. The sound of the movie projector filled the air, and they quickly found three empty seats in the middle row, slipping into them as quietly as possible.

The lights dimmed further, and the movie began. Ginny sat between Steve and Bucky, the box of candy they’d snuck in resting on her lap. As the picture began to play, she glanced at the boys, a wide grin on her face.

"Another successful mission," she whispered, scrunching her nose in excitement.

As the movie progressed, the trio found themselves engrossed in the story. They shared the candy, their hands brushing against each other occasionally, each touch sending a jolt of awareness through them.

At one point, a particularly funny scene caused Ginny to burst into laughter, her head tilting back to rest on Bucky’s shoulder. He looked down at her, a soft smile playing on his lips, his eyes lingering on hers longer than necessary.

Steve, noticing the intimate moment, shifted slightly in his seat. Slowly, tentatively, his hand found its way to Ginny’s. She responded without hesitation, her fingers intertwining with his in the folds of her skirt’s fabric. He squeezed her hand gently, his gaze fixed on the screen but his mind far from the movie.

A few minutes later, Ginny adjusted her position, leaning more comfortably against Bucky while still holding Steve’s hand. The close proximity and casual touches weren’t unusual, but there was also an undeniable undercurrent of tension, slowly growing stronger every day they refused to acknowledge it.

Bucky lifted his arm to rest it along the back of their shared seat, brushing against Ginny’s neck and sending a shiver down her spine. She tilted her head slightly, meeting his eyes in the dim light.

Steve, feeling the shift in the atmosphere, glanced at them from the corner of his eye. His jaw tightened slightly, but he said nothing, choosing instead to focus on the comfort of Ginny’s hand in his. He ran his thumb across the back of her hand. Her smooth, perfect skin.

As the final scene of the movie played out, Ginny let out a content sigh, squeezing Steve’s hand and leaning further into Bucky. She felt safe and cherished in that moment, surrounded by the two people she cared about most, seemingly indifferent to the way they each squirmed in their seats. The way their lips each curled ever so slightly when her attention turned to the other. The way they both itched to grab her and pull her towards their own body, away from any shared contact.

When the credits rolled and the lights began to come up, she untangled herself from the hands and limbs draped over her.

"Well boys, that was fun," Ginny said with a smile, standing up and stretching. "We should do this again sometime."

Bucky chuckled, running his thumb over her chin. "Whatever you want, Gin."

Steve grabbed each of their arms, pulling them towards the door. "Let’s just get out of here before we get caught."

______

Present Day, New York City

Why the fuck were high heels invented in the first place?

Evie glowered as she rounded the final block to Stark Tower. I mean, it’s not like men even like tall women. They like short, petite, feminine women -- women that make them feel big and strong and manly. Fucking idiots. These are a torture device.

Mentally vowing that heels were a one-time thing, reserved for her first day, she sipped her coffee and started up the steps to the front doors. The towering glass structure of Stark Tower loomed above her. Evie felt her agitation slip away as she walked through the revolving doors, greeted by the sleek, modern interior. She’d been here before, but never as an employee. It never lost the ability to take her breath away. After allowing herself a second to marvel at the high ceilings and the hum of the building, alive with technology, she started towards the elevators, tugging her badge from her purse.

Since she’d been consulting for them, she was given an access badge to the upper levels of the building, the ones containing the laboratories and conference rooms. This one still featured a photo of her from her sophomore year of college and read “consultant” across the front –– but Pepper had assured her they’d get an updated version made on her first day. For now, this would get here where she needed to go.

A few polite smiles and exchanges of pleasantries later, the elevator doors slid open with a soft chime, and Evie stepped into her new domain. The lab was a haven of cutting-edge technology. Every surface gleamed, holographic interfaces projected into the air, screens showing algorithms the likes of which the world had never seen. Evie’s eyes sparkled as she took it all in.

This was what she’d worked her whole life for. This was her life.

She made her way to her designated workspace, a pristine corner equipped with every tool and gadget she could dream of. On the metal surface, a small yellow sticky note was the only thing not electronically powered.

Good thing you sat front row

Grinning, Evie set her bag down and began to organize her space, carefully tucking the sticky note into her notebook. She wasn’t usually the sentimental type, but this was different. It felt like this was the first day of her life, everything prior to this just a prerequisite. MIT, the keynote speech she’d shown up embarrassingly early just to get front row at…it had culminated in this. Her own workstation inside Stark Industries. Maybe if I keep saying it over and over, it’ll finally sink in, Evie thought to herself, pulling her laptop of out her bag.

"Can I help you with something?" a voice interrupted her thoughts. Evie turned to see a young man in a lab coat, his expression a mix of confusion and irritation. He had the look of someone who spent more time with machines than people.

"Just getting settled," Evie replied smoothly, her lips curving into a small, enigmatic smile.

"Are you lost? This is a classified area." His tone was dismissive, and he glanced pointedly at her, clearly not having been briefed there was a new engineer starting today.

Evie raised an eyebrow, debating whether she should correct him or play along. Widening her eyes, she shook her head. "Oh, I must have wandered off. This place is a maze."

The engineer snorted. "Well, you'd better find your way back downstairs before Stark finds out one of his...guests is snooping around."

"I’d hate to see what he’d say if he saw me here, around such…" Evie picked up a small piece of machinery, wires poking out of each end. “...expensive technology.”

"Look, just—"

Before he could finish, Mr. Stark Industries himself strode into the lab, his presence commanding immediate attention. He paused, taking in the scene with a smirk. Tony looked as effortlessly cool as ever in a Van Halen shirt, jeans, and sneakers. Much more casual than her slacks and heels. He’d made it abundantly clear that there was no dress code, even emphasizing that she could wear as little as she was comfortable with, but she’d been in STEM long enough to know that if she wanted to be taken seriously — she needed to dress the part. At least for the first week, until her inevitable all-nighters started to catch up with her.

“There she is! The prodigy herself,” Tony called out, his arms open wide in mock applause.

Evie rolled her eyes, but couldn’t suppress a grin. “Flattery will get you everywhere, Stark.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” Tony narrowed his eyes. “Now, what was I hearing? Something about my guest snooping around?”

The engineer paled, realizing his mistake. "Mr. Stark, I—"

Tony held up a hand, cutting him off. "I’m gonna go ahead and stop you right there, Napoleon Dynamite, before you dig yourself an even deeper hole. Evie here is one of the few women on God’s green Earth to ever turn me down. While I’m sure she found me both wildly charming and devilishly handsome, she said she didn’t want there to be any question as to why she was offered a gig at the most prestigious technology conglomerate in the world."

Silent, the engineer’s eyes darted between them.

“That being said, she not only holds over a dozen patents for new technology––some of which you’re using in this lab––she graduated top of her class at MIT and has been consulting for us for two years now. E. Langston that you’ve been emailing, troubleshooting why you can’t get your proton reactor to bond effectively? This,” Tony gestured to Evie. “Is E. Langston.”

The engineer’s face turned bright red. "I—I’m so sorry, ma’am. I didn’t realize—"

"Relax," Evie said, waving off his apology. "You’re not the first person to think hot and smart are mutually exclusive. Let’s just start fresh." She extended a hand. “I’m Evie Langston.”

“Christopher Parr,” He stammered, shrinking before her eyes.

Tony chuckled, clapping the engineer on the shoulder with a little too much force. "Now that you’ve met your new boss, hopefully you’ll be able to make it through the day without pissing her off. She’s here to whip this place into even better shape, and if you ever disrespect her again, you’ll be looking for a new job. Got it?"

The engineer nodded fervently and scurried away, leaving Tony and Evie alone.

Tony grinned. "That’s the spirit. Now, get back to work, and make sure you show Evie the respect she deserves."

"He seems charming," Evie said, leaning against the counter behind her.

Tony shrugged. "You’ll get a lot of that around here until they realize just how much smarter you are than all of them combined. Pepper dealt with a ton of shit like that when she took over as CEO."

“How did she handle it?”

“Her philosophy is ‘kill them with kindness’, so usually a polite warning.” He raised an eyebrow. “But, on the second offense, they got canned.”

Evie laughed. "Do I have firing authority?"

“Let me be clear. I don’t care if you fire every engineer that works here, spray paint the entire lab baby pink, and install a snow cone machine. If you produce half of the innovation I know you’re capable of, you’ll turn our next closest competitor from a grain of sand to an atom.”

“Deal,” she grinned, opening her laptop. The itch to start was getting the best of her.

Tony leaned against the counter. "So, what’s the first project, wondergirl?"

"I’m thinking of starting with the security systems. Enhancing the encryption algorithms, integrating some new biometric scanners... you know, fixing the previously sloppy work." She winked.

"Sounds overdue. Just don’t make it too hard for us mere mortals to get in.”

"I’ll try to keep it user-friendly.”

Tony's phone buzzed, and he glanced at the screen. "Duty calls. I’ll check in later. Remember, no detonations in the building, please!”

With that, Tony left the lab, and Evie turned her attention back to her work, her mind already buzzing with ideas. She felt a thrill of excitement, knowing this was just the beginning.

She plugged in her laptop and activated her workstation, the multiple screens flickering to life with a soft glow. As the interface booted up, she reached into her bag and pulled out a sleek, customized tablet. Her fingers danced across the screen, bringing up schematics and blueprints she’d been working on in preparation for this day.

Before she knew it, several hours had passed. Her coffee cup, half empty, was long forgotten on the counter. She’d found several weak points in the security programming, and had spent the morning rewriting the code to eliminate them. By the time Tony returned, she would have sworn it had only been a half hour.

“Good lord, Langston, I can hear your stomach growling from the rooftop.”

“I’m not hungry, I don’t usually eat breakfast,” She didn’t look up from her computer.

“Be that as it may, breakfast time has come and gone. It’s 2:27pm.” He set a hand on her desk, drawing her attention. “It’s time for a tour. No debates. Let’s go.”

She reluctantly stood, locking her computer behind her, stepping back into her shoes and slipping her phone into her pocket. After snapping out of her work stupor, she became suddenly aware of the headache from her tight ponytail and the rumbling in her stomach. “I hope there’s a lunch break on this tour.”

“Oh, look who’s changing her tune.” Tony swiped his badge and gestured for her to step into the elevator. “Here I was thinking you’d found a way to deprogram your own hunger.”

“I’ll start on that tomorrow.”

After touring the first few floors, making rounds and shaking hands, Evie was once again regretting her choice to wear heels. She’d been banking on the privacy of her own lab where she could kick them off and work freely all day — not this psuedo-press tour around this massive fucking tower. There was a whole floor dedicated to Tony’s cars and the mechanics that worked on them, three floors occupied by SHIELD as their base in the city, a whole floor as a gym, one floor housing all Stark Industries corporate employees, one floor dedicated to his nonprofit organization that cleaned up the inevitable damage left behind by saving the world, and that was just the lower half of the tower.

“Next few floors are for the team,” Tony explained, swiping his access card to press the button.

Evie raised an eyebrow. “By the team, you mean…?”

“Right, the Avengers. I’m sure you got out of the lab long enough to know who that is, at least once over the past four years?”

“It might ring a bell.” She pursed her lips.

“Well,” The elevator door slid open and Tony gestured for her to step out first. “This is the training floor. It’s nothing compared to what we have upstate at the compound, but the team uses it when they stay here. Floor above this one is intelligence, briefing rooms, and weapons HQ. Almost every field weapon engineered by us is tested up there. Unless, of course, it poses a major risk to the integrity of the building. We’ve been advised not to test those here anymore.”

“Bummer,” Evie muttered, marveling at the massive space, the sheer size of the weight equipment. It was definitely not designed for humans, judging by the 300 lb dumbbells she walked past –– and that was just on the smaller end.

They finished touring the training floor before spending another hour in the weapons section above it. She hadn’t had a ton of experience developing weaponry, something about safety regulations that MIT had been incredibly clear about. After seeing Tony’s work and his demonstrations — she had little interest in developing anything else.

As they stepped out onto the designated floor, Evie was met with the sight of two men she’d known about her whole life, but had only seen in history books and news footage. Captain America and the Winter Soldier. Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes. The classically handsome blonde and ruggedly charming brunette striding through the hallway towards her.

They were laughing about something, walking side by side, distracted. Coming from a run, by the looks of it. They both wore faded t-shirts with sweaty rings around the neck, shorts just long enough to tip someone off that they might not be as young and trendy as their faces indicated. Clearly, the trends today hadn’t been published in Super Soldier Weekly.

“Hey, Dynamic Duo!” Tony called out, his voice a trademark blend of sarcasm and nonchalance. “Get over here for a sec.”

Steve turned first, his face still slightly flushed from exertion. His blue eyes, striking even from a distance, were friendly yet cautious, taking in the new face with polite curiosity. His golden hair, damp with sweat, clung slightly to his forehead, adding a boyish charm to his chiseled features. Despite his casual attire, he stood with the natural grace and confidence of someone used to commanding attention. Seeing his posture, Evie straightened up, suddenly conscious of her own. She pulled her shoulders back, tilting her chin slightly higher. Damn, that jawline should be criminal, she thought to herself.

Beside him, Bucky was a study in contrasts. His dark hair, longer than Steve’s, was slick with sweat, falling in disheveled strands around his face. It gave him a rugged, almost dangerous edge. His steel-blue eyes, intense and scrutinizing, widened slightly as he took in Evie’s appearance. It was as if he’d seen a ghost, and for a moment, he looked shell-shocked. The infamous vibranium arm, visible through the short sleeve of his t-shirt, glinted subtly in the fluorescent light. The shine tempted Evie’s eyes to look, but she resisted, keeping her eyes on his. He stayed slightly behind Steve as they changed course to approach Tony and Evie, his posture relaxed but alert, as if on guard. She wondered if that was his permanent state.

“Evie, meet Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes. Guys, this is Evie Langston, our newest engineering genius and second most brilliant mind in the building, behind yours truly,” Tony announced, making a sweeping gesture over her body.

Steve and Bucky exchanged a quick, bewildered glance. Evie stood, grinning, waiting for them to utter whatever first words she’d undoubtedly remember forever. She wondered if they remembered her grandmother. She wondered if all the stories she’d heard over the years would do them justice or pale in comparison. Don’t meet your heroes, people always said. Yet, here she was, standing before two men she’d heard more about than just about anyone besides Jesus Christ himself. She’d waited twenty five years for this moment, she could wait all day for them to find their voices.

Steve was the first to recover. He strode up and stopped right in front of her. “Nice to meet you, Evie. Welcome to the team,” he said, his voice warm and sincere, his smile the same.

Bucky nodded at her, a small, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Hey,” he muttered, his voice a deep, gravelly rumble.

Evie felt her heart rate spike as she met their gazes, eyes flicking back and forth between the different shades of blue, refusing to break eye contact. Through the years, she’d learned the effect she had on men. She’d grown up watching her mother command a room, watching necks nearly snap as she walked through a crowd. The older she got, the more she resembled her mother. The more she resembled her mother, the more difficult it seemed to be for men to keep their eyes –– and hands, at times –– off of her. She knew she could hardly fight it, so she might as well learn to make it work to her advantage.

So this part came naturally.

“Nice to meet you both,” she replied, shaking Steve’s hand first, then Bucky’s. The contrast in their grips was fascinating—Steve’s was controlled power, while Bucky’s, though also strong, had a rougher, more unrefined feel. She tilted her head down ever so slightly, looking up at them through long lashes. “It’s a real pleasure.” A coy smile following carefully chosen words. Two sets of eyes watching her glossed lips pressed together.

A shrill tone rang through the air, startling all of them. Tony tugged his phone from his pocket, glanced at the screen and rolled his eyes. “Sorry, it’s Pepper. Probably calling to remind me of a meeting I’m already late for.” He answered the call, turning slightly away. “Hey, Pep… Yes, I know… of course I’m on my way, it’s this damn elevator –– hey, did you make sure we got the good catering again?” He covered the receiver with his hand and gave the trio an exaggeratedly regretful look. “Gotta dash. Rogers, Barnes, can you finish showing Evie around? Thanks, you’re the best.” And with that, he was off, striding down the hallway with his usual brisk efficiency.

Steve chuckled softly at Tony’s hurried departure. “Looks like it’s just us,” he said, slowly turning back to Evie with a reassuring smile. “So, engineering genius, huh? What’s your specialty?”

“Robotics and AI, mostly,” Evie replied, smiling shyly, despite being anything but. “But I dabble in a bunch of other areas. I can’t seem to narrow it down.”

“That’s uncommon, right?” Steve furrowed his brow, his eyes flicking to Tony’s retreating figure before settling back on Evie. “Engineers typically choose a specialty, don’t deviate?”

“Some. I think I would get bored if I had to choose just one.” She grinned and let her eyes linger on his, feeling a small sense of accomplishment when he tore his eyes away first.

Steve and Bucky exchanged another glance, a silent conversation passing between them. It was clear they were both still sizing her up, but there was also an undercurrent of something else—something she couldn’t wait to unearth.

“Well, welcome aboard, Evie,” Steve said again, his smile genuine. “We’re glad to have you here.”

“Why thank you, Steve. I’m looking forward to working with you both,” she replied, meeting his gaze with steady confidence.

“So,” Steve cleared his throat. “Clearly, we aren’t exactly dressed to make a great first impression. I apologize for that. We can give you the rest of the tour and hopefully the next time we’re acquainted, we won’t be so ––”

“Damp?” Evie finished for him.

“Right.” He gave a sheepish grin.

She nodded, holding her hands out. “After you, Cap.”

Steve smiled at her response, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "Right this way."

As they walked down the hallway, Steve fell into an easy stride beside her, while Bucky lagged slightly behind. Evie let her hips swing just a little extra as she walked. The atmosphere was a mix of professional courtesy and underlying tension, the latter mostly emanating from Bucky’s wary presence.

“So, Evie, where did you study?” Steve asked, trying to break the ice as they navigated the maze of corridors.

“MIT,” she replied, her tone light. “But I’ve been working with Stark Industries since my second year. Consulting, mainly. Tony likes to poach young talent early.”

Steve chuckled. “Sounds about right.”

Bucky remained silent, his eyes locked on Evie, studying her with an intensity that made her skin prickle. Never one to shy away, she decided to engage him directly, whirling to face him as she walked.

“And you, Bucky? How do you find working with Tony?”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “It’s…an experience. But he knows what he’s doing. Most of the time.”

Steve shot Bucky a sidelong glance, as if to silently reprimand him, before turning back to Evie. “Tony can be a handful, but he’s the best at what he does. We’re lucky to have him on our side.”

As they covered the next few floors, they talked about little else besides the purpose of each one. Evie nodded earnestly, smiled warmly, ooh’d and ahh’d at all the right times. Truthfully, she couldn’t give less of a shit about the uses of the building. The vast majority of her time would be spent in the lab, and if she had to choose a second way to spend her time, it was standing right in front of her.

“Here we are, back at your new playground,” Steve said, gesturing around the lab. “I wish I could give you a more in-depth run down, but unfortunately, that’s above my pay grade.”

Bucky, who’d been silent the past two floors, finally spoke up. “So what’s your first project?”

“So far, beefing up security protocol, detecting weak zones, things like that,” Evie waved a hand, turning to face him. “Tony mentioned a few more pressing needs, so I guess I’ll see what they have in mind.” A smirk. “Or what needs the most help around here.”

Steve nodded. “Whatever it is, I’m sure you’ll do great. Tony wouldn’t have brought you in if he didn’t think you were the best.”

“That,” She winked. “...I am.”

He smiled, looking down before meeting her eyes again. “Well, it was very nice meeting you. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you around.” He offered her his hand.

“I’m looking forward to it.” She returned his smile before turning to Bucky, holding her hand out. “Sargeant.”

“Welcome to the team.” His face was stoic as he shook her hand.

As they turned to walk away, Evie couldn’t fight the grin that fought its way onto her face. Dream job, kickass lab, insane salary, and she’d just met Steve fucking Rogers and Bucky fucking Barnes.

Life was about to get oh so sweet.

____

Steve and Bucky stood in the elevator in stunned silence, the echoes of their brief encounter with the new girl lingering in the air.

“Did you see that?” Steve finally broke the silence, his voice barely above a whisper.

Bucky nodded, his expression a mix of disbelief and awe. “She looks exactly like Ginny.”

“I heard she had a granddaughter, but I didn’t expect… I didn’t expect this.” Steve rubbed the back of his neck, trying to process his emotions.

Bucky leaned against the wall, running a hand through his hair. “Seeing her brought back so many memories. It felt like Ginny was standing right there in front of us. It fucked with my head.”

“Yeah. It’s uncanny. But she’s not Ginny, Buck. She’s Evie, she’s a completely different person.”

Bucky shook his head, as if trying to clear his thoughts. “I know. It’s just… damn, it’s a lot to take in.”

Steve leaned back, staring at the ceiling. “We have to be careful, Buck. We can’t let our past interfere with the present.”

Bucky’s jaw tightened. “I get it, Steve. But seeing her… it’s bringing up a lot of stuff I thought I’d buried.”

Steve glanced at him, his expression softening. “We’ll figure it out, Buck. We always do.”

Bucky nodded slowly, his mind racing. “Yeah. We will.”

#james bucky barnes #bucky barnes #avengers #bucky barnes x oc #bucky fanfic #winter soldier #bucky fluff #captain america #stucky x oc #stucky fanfiction #stucky fic #stucky fandom #stevebucky #steve rogers #steve x bucky

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beefromanoff · 5 days

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Tempting Fate Ch. 1

summary: a flashback to 1940's Brooklyn, 2022 Boston, and an introduction to our leading lady, Evie Langston.

author's note: OKAY GUYS, you asked for this! the post with my little drabble and idea for a Stucky x Reader fic got so much love that here I am. fair warning if you haven't read my other works (which you should) I LOVE to set a scene and I love a slow burn. I'll definitely get to the good parts earlier in this story than in my other two, but this is going to be spicy AND plot driven.

masterlist

tag list: tag list: @yiiiikesmish @sunflower1290 @barnescamboy @thedisc0spider @bitchy-bi-trash @kulteule @kandis-mom @i-mushi @unknown-writings

Chapter 1

1940s, Brooklyn

The air was filled with the sounds of laughter and the scent of popcorn. Brightly colored banners flapped in the breeze as children ran around, and the mechanical whirring and dinging of carnival games echoed through the street. Among the bustling crowd, three friends stood out.

Ginny Langston was the center of attention, her auburn hair catching the light. She always was. Even at sixteen, her features were striking, catching stares from grown men passing by. Unbeknownst to Ginny, however, who only had eyes for her two best friends. Her stomach hurt from laughing so hard as she watched Steve Rogers attempt to win a prize at one of the booths. Their best friend, Bucky Barnes, stood beside her, a smirk on his face.

“Alright, Stevie, that was my last quarter.” He winked. “Try not to shit the bed again.”

“Bucky!” Ginny giggled, smacking his arm. “I believe in you, Stevie!”

Steve blushed, his determination clear. “I’ll get it right this time, just watch.” Eyes narrowed in concentration, he pinched the dart between his fingers and let it fly. With a loud pop the balloon on the other side of the booth burst, sending the trio into an eruption of cheers.

“Yay, Stevie!” She jumped down from her seat on the edge of the booth, bouncing over to Steve. She threw her arms around his neck, feeling his skin flush. “Can I pick? Oh, please let me pick!”

“Be my guest,” He gestured to the rack of stuffed animals, cheeks still pink from her embrace.

After selecting a floppy pink stuffed bunny, Ginny skipped over. Her eyes sparkled as she looked between the two boys. “How lucky am I,” she drawled playfully, “To have not one, but two handsome fellas to win me prizes?” To emphasize her point, she waggled the bunny and the stuffed bear Bucky had won by knocking down a tower of bottles with a baseball.

The boys shared a look as she linked one arm through each of theirs and led them further into the fair. The same understanding they’d had for the five years of their friendship passed between them. They both adored Ginny, but neither wanted to ruin the bond they had with her—or each other.

So, despite the chemistry, despite the daydreams…they resisted temptation. It worked well, their trio. Friendship before anything. The laughter and memories they shared didn’t seem to be possible with anyone else. If this was all they ever were to each other –– best friends –– none of them would mind. But that didn’t stop the occasional late night thought from creeping into one of their heads…wondering what would happen if that invisible line in the sand were ever crossed.

Fall Semester, 2022

Boston

The ballroom was a vision of opulence, adorned with glittering chandeliers and rich, velvety drapes. MIT’s alumni gala was in full swing, a celebration of the brightest minds and most generous benefactors. The room buzzed with conversation, the clinking of glasses, and the beats of a live jazz band. Alumni, staff, and donors alike mingled with current students. It was an exclusive event for students to be invited to, needing a recommendation from a professor to be added to the guest list. At one of the most prestigious schools in the country, the competition never stopped. Evie Langston had been thrilled when her invite arrived, especially considering she was only a sophomore. This event was typically reserved for upperclassmen and graduate students, with only a handful of younger students having received an invite ever.

She had been thrilled, but not surprised.

Since her arrival in Boston, she’d been making waves. Big, tsunami-esque waves.

For the child-prodigy community, she’d seemingly come out of nowhere. She graduated high school on time, not early. Her parents were insistent that she make the most of her high school experience, maintaining friendships, attending prom, walking with her classmates across the stage. They’d given her every opportunity to learn and grow, but not at the expense of her childhood. She’d gotten early acceptance to MIT as a freshman in high school after winning an engineering contest with such prestige that she was immediately contacted by a patent lawyer to protect her innovation. It was her first patent filed. She was 14 years old.

At MIT, Evie had quickly distinguished herself as one of the brightest minds on campus. Her freshman year, she had been part of a team that developed a revolutionary nanotechnology application for medical devices, leading to a paper published in a leading scientific journal. Her contribution was so significant that she was invited to speak at several conferences, which she politely declined, allowing an older member of the team to represent them. It wasn’t that she was opposed to speaking, it’s just that she felt like there were better uses of her time than kissing ass and galavanting around a room full of the most pompous, self-important assholes of all time. Her name was listed first on the publication, and that was enough of an ego stroke for her. Especially since it drove the rest of the all-male team absolutely insane.

Her sophomore year had only seen her rise higher. She had spearheaded a project that created a new type of lightweight, high-strength material, earning her a prestigious research grant and the attention of several major textile companies. Her professors often remarked on her uncanny ability to solve problems that stumped even the most seasoned researchers. She had an intuitive grasp of complex systems, a knack for seeing connections others missed, and a relentless drive that kept her working long after everyone else had called it a night. Plus, her ability to pivot between specialties like she was switching tabs on a browser was unheard of. She could go from artificial intelligence programming to biochemical engineering to robotics and not bat an eye.

Outside the classroom, she balanced her rigorous academic schedule with her job as a bartender. It was a role that seemed incongruous for someone of her intellect but was, in fact, a deliberate choice. It kept her grounded, connected to a world beyond equations, experiments, and giant fucking egos. It was there, in the bustling atmosphere of the bar, that she honed her people skills, learning how to read people, how to manage conflict, and how to charm even the most difficult customers. She loved being around her peers at MIT, the shared interest and the constant desire for progress, but she couldn’t stand their larger-than-life self image. Typically, she was opposed to sweeping generalities, but after a year and a half at this school, she felt it was a damn near foolproof hypothesis.

So, to the judgment of her classmates, she became a bartender. In an environment where everyone was either funded by the deep pockets of their families or a hefty scholarship, she was one of the few students who worked a job. Let alone such an unimpressive job. Ironically, the scorn of her peers made her love the job even more. The fact that they were losing grant money to a girl alone was enough to make most of them need to up their dosage, but a girl who spent her evenings serving up gin and tonics in a low cut tank top? Berzerk.

The best part? She didn’t even need the money.

Her parents were upper middle class, back in the midwest. Her dad was a partner at an accounting company and her mom had stayed home with her and her siblings. They’d spent summers on vacation, not the Hamptons or yacht-style vacations that some of her classmates had been raised on, but nice vacations nonetheless. They were more than comfortable. So when she’d sold her first patent in high school, her parents had put her earnings into a trust. One she could access when she was officially out of college. They’d had every intention of funding her education, but it was clear they’d never have to break out their checkbooks. She’d been offered a full ride to just about any school in the country.

There was only ever one option for her, though. The alma mater of the one and only Tony Stark. The Da Vinci of our time. The merchant of death. Iron Man. She’d wanted to be him since she was old enough to find his interviews on YouTube on the family computer. Much to her parents’ chagrin of course, who’d hoped their nine year old daughter would have found a more…palatable role model. It was he who inspired her love of engineering and innovation. It was he who taught her to be unapologetically confident. It was he who caused her to hang an MIT pennant on her wall and refuse to take it down. Even to this day, it hung above her espresso machine in her little apartment above the bar she worked at.

It was he who delivered the most kick-ass, jaw-dropping, profane keynote address earlier that day. She’d been front row for the whole thing, hanging on his every word. It was her intention to speak to him after the address, but he’d been swarmed by overzealous ass-kissers that she didn’t feel like wading through. She’d seen him up close, and that was good enough for her. It was enough to make her want to get back in the lap and continue her work on nanotechnology right that second, but she knew she couldn’t pass up the gala. Not when her professors had personally advocated for her invitation.

So, here she was. Evie stood near the edge of the room, her eyes scanning the crowd. She had dressed immaculately for the occasion, wearing a sleek, midnight blue cocktail dress that hugged her figure and highlighted her fiery red hair, which she’d styled into soft waves that cascaded down her back. Occasionally, a professor would usher some big-name investor over to her, making introductions and raving about her brilliance. So she would smile, put on her best impression of someone who gave a shit about their company and what their mission was, and charm her way through the rest of the conversation. At the end, she’d add their business card to the collection piling up in her purse, never to be looked at again.

There was only one job she was interested in taking after college, and if that wasn’t on the table, she’d start her own damn tech company.

She took a sip of her sparkling water, glancing around the room at the clusters of people deep in meaningless conversation. A commotion towards the middle of the room drew her attention. Her gaze landed on Tony Stark, who was making his way through the crowd with his usual effortless charm, evading those who wanted everything from a selfie to a donation to a job. He was dressed in a tailored black suit, a whiskey glass clutched in one hand and a cigar in the other, openly defying the no smoking rule.

Looking around, Tony spotted her, his eyes locking onto her bright red hair and striking features once again. With a roguish grin, he made his way over to her, weaving through the crowd with practiced ease and a dismissive attitude. As he approached, Evie straightened her posture, her heart pounding in her chest. No fucking way.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” Tony said, his voice dripping with charm and mischief as he looked her up and down. She could have sworn she felt his eyes on her body like they were hands. “I couldn’t help but notice you earlier at the keynote. Front row, right?”

Evie nodded, a half-smile playing on her lips. “Good memory. It was an incredible speech, Mr. Stark. Truly inspiring.”

“Please, call me Tony,” he replied with a grin. “And might I say, you’re a breath of fresh air here with all these bad toupees and escapees from mom’s basement. The red hair, this dress—” He looked her over again. “Quite the combination. You certainly know how to make an impression.”

Evie smiled, meeting his flirtation with poise. “Why, thank you, Tony. I’ve always believed in standing out rather than blending in.”

“Well, you’re definitely standing out,” Tony said, his eyes lingering on her. “So! What’s a dazzling individual like yourself doing at a place like this? I’d imagine there are more lively places to spend your Friday night than this snoozefest.”

“They say this is the event to be at if you want to shake the right hands.” She offered a teasing smile.

“How’s that been going for you?”

“I’ve shaken a lot of hands tonight, but not the one I came here for.” A coy smile.

He ran his tongue along the inside of his teeth, assessing her. “Would I be living up to the egomaniac allegations if I assume you’re talking about me?”

“Yes, but you’d also be correct.”

He grinned, shifting his drink to his left hand and offering her his right. “Tony Stark, Owner of Stark Industries. Benefactor and celebrated alum of this fine institution. Patron of the arts. Not really, but it sounded like it fit.”

“Evie Langston,” Another small smile. “I’m a sophomore, studying engineering, but having a hard time narrowing down a specialty.”

“Engineering, huh? A woman after my own heart,” Tony said, clearly impressed. “Wait, Langston, Langston…you were the one who filed a patent for that new material. What do you call it?”

“Nanoflex.” Evie took a sip of her drink, her eyes never leaving his.

“Nanoflex, right, that’s it. I tell you what, you’ve been giving a lot of my engineers hell these past few months.”

“Is that so?” She raised an eyebrow.

“Unfortunately yes, it is so. I’ve had my whole team working on an alternative material for us to use in the manufacturing of combat suits and after months of research and resource allocation, and way more money than I should have funneled into it –– they’re still lightyears behind you.” He gave her a mock-irritated look. “And you, Evie Langston, hold the patent for the thing I’ve had the brightest minds in the industry working tirelessly on. To no avail or benefit to me.”

“Would you like me to apologize?”

“I’d like you to come work for me.” His voice was decisive. “Say the word, I’ll fire the whole lot of them and you can take the whole lab. Seriously, paint it pink, hang up a boy band poster, I don’t give a shit. I’ve gotta have you.”

She ignored the way her stomach flipped at his words. “Tempting…as that may be, I’d like to finish my education first.”

He leaned in closer. “Don’t tell me you’re really learning from these yahoos. When I was here I felt like I should take advantage of the office hours just to teach my professors a thing or two about their subject matter.”

Evie laughed. “It’s not so bad. I’ve always had a difficult time finding things that challenge me. This isn’t much different.” She waved a hand. “At least they can throw a party.”

“Oh, sweet Evie,” He scoffed. “Let me court you. Professionally, of course. Unless you’re open to other possibilities––kidding, I’m not kidding.” She couldn’t help but chuckle at his candor and casual demeanor. He was funnier in person than in the interviews she’d all but committed to memory. “Come to New York, I’ll send the jet for you, let me show you what we’re all about. I’ll show you a real laboratory, show you what could be yours. While we’re at it, I’ll show you a real party, too. Unless things have changed here, the parties could be confused for a lively wake.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t get me wrong, this is pretty much exactly the scenario I’ve been manifesting for the past decade, but what’s in this for you? Something tells me you don’t come here to recruit talent.”

“No, I come here because my delightful CEO, Ms. Pepper Potts, threatens to donate my vintage car collection to a museum if I don’t show up every year.” He shrugged, sipping his drink. “As for what’s in it for me, that’s easy. Either you find me delightfully charming and decide to remind me why smart girls are the freakiest in the sack, or you fall in love with the endless resources and free reign over innovation and decide to come work for me. Seems like a win-win situation.”

Evie grinned, sipping her drink to hide the flush in her cheeks. She wasn’t a stranger to being prepositioned, but by Tony Stark? The temptation knotted in her stomach and she was grateful she’d opted for sparkling water, rather than something that might impair her judgment further.

“Deal.”

“Deal?”

“Deal,” She laughed. “I’ll hear you out. After all, it’s a win-win, right?”

“Every bit as smart as you’re cracked up to be.” He gestured to her almost empty drink. “What are you drinking? Next round is on me.”

“I’m not drinking, actually.” She held the glass up. “Club soda.”

“Straight edge?”

“Wanted to keep a clear mind, you know, in case I met someone…important.” Evie smirked.

“What a shame.” He downed the rest of his drink. “Well, the drinks here blow anyways. You’d think with all the donor money, they’d be able to afford top shelf, but I guess not. You happen to know if that old bar on McClaren is still open?”

“It is very much open, at least it was when I finished my shift last night.” She grinned at his double take.

“Woah, woah. Wait. You’re telling me you hold a patent that many interested parties, myself included, would pay well into the seven-figure range for, and you’re moonlighting as a bartender?”

“Something like that.”

“You are full of surprises, Ms. Langston.”

“You don’t know the half of it, Mr. Stark.”

“Well, forgive me for being so forward, but if I stay at this party one more minute then I’m at severe risk of becoming clinically depressed and doing something destructive.” He held his arm out. “Care to join me for an after party, hopefully with fewer sticks-in-asses?”

“Lead the way.” She took his arm and followed him towards the side door, fully aware of what people would say when they saw the pretty redhead leaving on the arm of the womanizing billionaire.

Let them talk.

Leaving with Tony Stark turned into one of the best decisions of her college career. His driver, a man aptly named Happy, was waiting for them outside. They’d made the short drive across town to The Bostonian, or The Bos, as the locals so affectionately called it. The champagne they’d drank on the way over probably cost more than the whole stock of liquor at the bar. When they arrived at the curb, Happy had rushed around to open the door for them. Downing the rest of the glass, Evie savored the feeling of warmth bubbling up in her stomach as she strode through the oh-so-familiar doors, Tony right behind her.

When she walked in, she saw her best friend, Jade, right in the thick of the Friday evening rush. Flirting with a customer as she popped the lids off of two beers for another, she was a natural. The kind of bartender that every regular had a crush on. Her attention flicked to the door, where she clocked Evie and Tony right behind her. Recognition, confusion, then excitement all flashed across her face.

“What’s up, E!” She yelled over the clamor. A handful of regulars turned their attention to her, whistling at her evening attire. It was a far cry from the jeans and tank top she usually wore, but judging from the tips she made, no one was complaining about her standard uniform.

As they strode further into the bar, all attention turned from Evie to Tony. A slow chant of “Iron Man! Iron Man!” broke out around the crowded room, with Tony not even trying to look modest. After a few moments, he raised his hands in the air to quiet everyone down.

“Alright, alright, I know you all probably think that if you flatter me, I’ll whip out my card and buy a round of shots for everyone,” He gave a disapproving look around the room, then reached in his lapel pocket. “...and I will.”

The room erupted into thunderous cheering, with the Iron Man chant coming back in full swing. Tony put his hand on Evie’s lower back, guiding her through the chaos to the bar. Two regulars immediately vacated their seats, clapping Tony on the back.

Jade put two shot glasses down in front of them, leaning over the bar to give a generous view down her shirt. She was the one who’d taught Evie that if she wanted to make double the tips, leave the bra at home. It seemed that tonight was a night she wanted to make double the tips.

“Now, Mr. Stark, with all bar-wide orders, there is a mandatory fifty percent tip included for the bartender.” She winked, sliding his glass across the table.

“Only fifty?” He made a face, downed the shot with zero reaction, and met her gaze again. “You can have whatever tip you want, and that’s not limited to just cash.”

She smirked. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Evie rolled her eyes, grinning at Jade’s shameless flirting before downing her own shot. She sucked the lime to take the edge off, but her eyes still watered.

“Alright kiddo, this is what happens when you roll with me.” Tony squeezed her shoulder before signaling for another round. “Consider this the beginning of your official Stark industries recruitment period.”

______

The next morning, Evie met Jade for their usual Saturday morning walk to their favorite coffee shop. When Evie took the job at The Bos, Jade had been a welcome bonus. She wasn’t a student at MIT, despite being pretty smart. She’d grown up incredibly wealthy, definitely the Hamptons and yacht type. Her family had pushed her toward Ivy League education, toward the path of marrying whichever eligible bachelor was best suited to take over her father’s hedge fund one day. She told her family she was attending Harvard, faked a transcript whenever she needed to, and blamed her lack of contact on how inundated with her studies she was. Evie had asked her once what she planned to do in two years when her family expected to attend her graduation, and she’d simply shrugged and said she’d figure it out.

She was a breath of fresh air in comparison to everyone who took themselves way too fucking seriously. Having Harvard and MIT in the same city often felt like all the oxygen had been sucked out of the atmosphere, being stored up in the massive heads of all those that studied there.

The walk was later than usual, with the sun already high in the sky. Last night’s escapades had stretched well into the night, with Evie ultimately thankful they’d been at the bar she lived above, as she stumbled up the steps at an unholy hour. When she’d woken up this morning, her head was pounding and she was still in her cocktail dress. Even now, in her crewneck and sweatshorts, she could feel the ghost of the corset’s boning pressing into her.

Evie yawned, stretching her arms above her head as they walked. "I can't believe how late we stayed out. My head is still spinning."

Jade grinned, her eyes twinkling mischievously. "Yeah, but it was worth it. I haven't had that much fun in ages. Tony Stark sure knows how to liven up a place."

Evie laughed, shaking her head. "He's definitely a character. Ordering shots for the entire bar? He definitely lived up to his reputation."

“Oh, he absolutely did.” Jade winked and looped her arm through Evie’s as they walked.

Evie raised an eyebrow. "Did I miss something when I went up to bed?"

Her grin widened. "Let's just say, Tony Stark is very generous in more ways than one."

"Jade, you did not!" She burst out laughing, shaking her head.

Jade shrugged, looking pleased with herself. "Hey, a girl’s gotta eat."

“I saw the tip jar before we even sat down, you’re not in danger of starving anytime soon.”

“Hey, he said I could have whatever tip I wanted.” She bumped Evie’s hip with her own. “I just happened to want a big one.”

“Jesus Christ, Jade,” She pretended to cover her ears. “At least wait until I’m not fucking hungover and nauseous.”

“Fine, get your little foo-foo croissant, but then I’m sparing no details.”

They reached the coffee shop and ordered their usuals, then found a quiet spot outside to sit and enjoy their drinks.

Evie took a sip of her coffee, feeling life slowly coming back to her, even as Jade told a story so salacious she felt slightly guilty for listening to it in the daylight. "Well, I’m glad you had a good time. It sounds like he exceeded expectations."

“You could say that,” Jade took a bite of Evie’s croissant. “It doesn’t hurt that my father absolutely despises him. Not that he’ll ever know, of course, but it made my night that much more enjoyable.”

Shaking her head, Evie took the pastry back. “Daddy’s little law student, hard at work.”

“Something like that. Anywho, why don’t you tell me why the hell you showed up at the bar with Tony Stark in the first place?”

“Well, we met at the gala, we chatted, long story short –– he offered me a job.”

Jade nearly choked on her coffee. "What? Are you serious?"

Evie grinned. "Yeah, he was familiar with my work on Nanoflex and offered me a job on the spot. I said I preferred to finish school first, but he told me to consider my Stark Industries recruitment to have officially begun."

Jade's jaw dropped. "Evie, that’s amazing! But wait, why the hell wouldn’t you go now? Don’t tell me that piece of paper really means that much to you. You’re basically already a bazillionaire, you don’t need to pander for funding like the rest of those assholes do.”

Evie chuckled. "I don’t know, I guess I just don’t want to rush things. No, I don’t really need the degree, I suppose. I know my parents will be so excited to come up for a graduation, to tell their friends their daughter graduated from MIT, blah blah blah. They’ve always been so pro-living life. If I drop out of college to go to work, even at my dream job, my mom will lose so much sleep thinking I’m chained to a desk slaving away for the rest of time. Plus, everything I made before I was eighteen is in a trust I can only access if I actually graduate. So, here I am.” She elbowed Jade. “Plus, is it really so bad to keep slinging drinks with you for another two years?”

“No, no it is not.” Jade raised her coffee cup. “To Evie Langston, genius, future Stark Industries standout, mediocre bartender, and the best wingwoman a girl could ask for.”

Evie raised her coffee cup, laughing.

“I swear, Eves, no one is better at getting what they want than you. I don’t know what kind of witchcraft you’re practicing, but I want in.”

“I’ll bring my spellbook to the bar tonight.” She winked.

Present Day

Evie stood in front of her mirror, adjusting the collar of her blazer. Her vibrant red hair was pulled into a sleek ponytail, the kind that gave you a splitting headache by lunchtime. Knowing she’d regret it later, she doubled down on her chosen hairstyle, knowing it accentuated her cheekbones. Yet another gift bestowed upon her through the gene pool, along with her green eyes, now sparkling with anticipation. Today was the day she’d start her new job at Stark Industries. Today was the day that years –– decades of her hard work would come to fruition.

All the years being ahead in school, seeking a challenge and never quite finding it. Years of boredom and near stifling education, causing her to get into some trouble. MIT had pushed her just enough to keep her mind occupied, and once she’d officially received her offer from Stark Industries during her sophomore year, the rest of her education had been a formality leading up to this moment.

Now –– just as he’d promised two years ago, there was a job waiting for her after graduation. She’d walked in her ceremony just a week prior, insisting on starting her job right away. The only reason she’d allowed a week in between was to fly home and humor her mother with an over the top graduation party, and then settle into this new apartment just two blocks away from Stark Tower. It was still somewhat sparse, not quite lived-in. The problem with luxury apartments is that they always felt too clinical, too impersonal. A little part of her felt nostalgic for the little apartment she’d lived in above the bar back in Boston, the owner of The Bos giving her a break in rent since she bartended part time. It was small, cramped, and always had a lingering liquor smell wafting up through the floor, but it was the first place she’d lived in on her own. This new apartment was about ten times the size of that little shoebox, but lacked the charm. She was somewhat new to the level of income she’d found herself bringing in, between the numerous patents she’d sold and the consulting gigs she’d taken throughout college, and finally having access to her trust now that her degree was finalized. Plus, with the Stark Industries salary, she was bringing in more money than she knew what to do with. She made a mental note to hire an interior designer and pick up an extra large coffee on her way to the office.

Meandering around the room, she put gold hoops in her ears, pulled her purse onto her shoulder, and slid her laptop into her bag. Behind her, the phone buzzed on her nightstand. She picked it up, a smirk forming as she read the message from Tony Stark.

Ready to knock their socks off, Red? Just remember, no blowing up the lab on your first day.

Evie typed back quickly, grinning. No promises, Stark. Hope your insurance is comprehensive.

She took a deep breath, giving herself a final once-over. With a confident smile, she grabbed her bag and headed out the door. As she locked up, she tried her best not to smile like an idiot.

#steve rogers #stucky #bucky barnes #avengers #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes x oc #bucky fluff #winter soldier #james bucky barnes #Tony stark #iron man #stark industries #steve x bucky #stevebucky #stucky x oc #steve rogers x oc

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beefromanoff · 5 days

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Tempting Fate Masterlist

growing up in Brooklyn, Steve and Bucky knew a girl that nearly tore their friendship apart. Genevieve was beautiful, enigmatic, tempting. they made a pact never to let another girl come between them again. now, decades later, Tony Stark has brought a new lead engineer to Stark Industries.

she's beautiful, brilliant, and the spitting image of her grandmother.

as Evie pursues what, and who she wants, Steve and Bucky have to decide if their pact should hold up, or if it's time to give into temptation.

let me know if you want to be added to the tag list <3

MINORS DNI tag list: @yiiiikesmish @sunflower1290 @barnescamboy @thedisc0spider @bitchy-bi-trash @kulteule @kandis-mom @i-mushi @unknown-writings

teaser

chapter one

chapter two

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x oc #bucky fluff #avengers #james bucky barnes #sebastian stan #winter soldier #bucky fanfic #winter soldier fluff #stucky #stucky x reader #steve and bucky #Steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #stucky fanfiction #stevebucky #steve x bucky #stucky fandom #stucky fic

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beefromanoff · 11 days

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Project Mockingbird Ch. 20

summary: the mission, the safe house, the extracurriculars that follow.

pairing: Bucky Barnes x OC

author's note: HAHAHAHA GUYS I fully did not intend for the story to go there today, but here we are. enjoy ;) LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!

tag list: @bangtanxberm @scott-loki-barnes @kayhi808 @charmedbysarge @cjand10 @capswife

(let me know if you want to be added <3)

chapter list

I padded out of the bathroom in my trusty pajamas, the soft cotton ones that I had packed specifically for "casual, inconspicuous, asexual lounging," as Natasha had put it. I ignored the barely-there lace set she’d somehow snuck into my suitcase when I wasn’t looking. Bucky was tossing a thin blanket onto the couch, trying to make it look suitable to sleep on. It looked about as comfortable as a slab of concrete, one of those pieces of furniture that’s clearly for fashion rather than function. Especially considering his size, there was no world in which he’d get a good nights’ sleep on that thing.

"Do you have something against comfort, Barnes?" I quipped as I leaned against the doorframe, watching him attempt to make the blanket fit across the length of the couch.

He glanced up, eyes flicking down over my pajamas, making me keenly aware of my lack of bra. "Just figured I’d be a gentleman, that’s all."

I crossed my arms, my eyebrow arching in amusement. "Come on, there’s a perfectly good bed here. And it's big enough for, like, three of me. Or two of you."

Bucky stood up, hesitating for a fraction of a second. "You sure? I’ve slept in worse ––"

"I’m sure. Besides," I continued, walking over to the king-sized bed and patting the mattress, "if one of us has a nightmare, the other can play the hero. You know, wake the other up before it gets too bad?"

"That’s... actually not a bad idea," Bucky conceded, though he still looked as if he were mentally measuring the distance between the couch and the bed.

The silence stretched for a moment before he finally picked up his pillow and made his way to the other side of the bed. "If you start stealing the blankets, though, I’m building a fort."

"I solemnly swear to keep my blanket thievery to a minimum," I said, my tone mockingly serious as I climbed into bed next to him.

We both settled under the covers, maintaining a respectful, almost comical distance between us. I lay on my side, facing away from Bucky, my eyes staring at the wall as if it might suddenly become interesting. All I could think about was the weight of his body on the mattress, pulling me towards him. The warmth of him. The way I could just roll over, touch him…

The room was silent, save for the soft hum of the air conditioning and our synchronized breathing. Every once in a while, I could hear Bucky shifting, as if he were also wrestling with the awkwardness of the situation. We’d agreed on a cool 66 degrees for the room, both of us embracing the likelihood that we’d wake up from a nightmare, panicked and sweaty. A cool room was a small comfort, an easy thing to agree on. At this moment, it served to keep us both from getting too warm in our full pajamas. My full length set had felt nice after a shower, but now, under the covers, it felt cumbersome. Like I was wearing too much clothing. I wondered if Bucky felt the same in his sweatpants and t-shirt. My normal sleep attire was a tank top and underwear, far less than I was currently wearing. What did he sleep in? A faded shirt and boxers? Boxers alone? I propped myself up on my elbows, reaching for the glass of water on my nightstand, clearing the thought from my head as my cheeks flushed.

"Hey, Char?" His voice was soft in the darkness.

"Yeah?"

"If this were an actual date, I'd have said some smooth line about how you like your eggs in the morning.”

I chuckled, the sound muffled by my pillow. "Lucky for you, we’re just two spies in a bed. No lines necessary."

The tension seemed to ease a bit, and slowly, the space between us felt less like a wall we couldn’t cross. As sleep eventually claimed us, it was in a quiet understanding that for the first time in weeks, we weren't going to be alone with our nightmares.

And miraculously, neither of us had one.

When morning light spilled into the room, gently pulling me from the depths of an unprecedented peaceful sleep, I realized something had shifted—not just in the bed (which they had, by the way. I’d never seen such a violent sleeper, covers kicked off of his legs and one pillow on the ground), but perhaps in the silent agreement that we were in this mess together. I rolled over to face Bucky, whose eyes were already open, a trace of a smile on his lips.

"Morning," he said, the word simple, but not without warmth.

"Morning," I replied, feeling a surprising flicker of something like anticipation for the day ahead.

“Coffee?” his voice was gruff, tired. Sexy?

“Coffee.”

“I’ll call room service.”

“Suddenly I’m remembering why I married you.”

______

Under the blazing sun, Charlotte lounged in the cabana, her gaze fixed on the two men seated at a table by the poolside bar. The earpiece nestled in her ear crackled to life as Bucky's voice filled her senses. Today was the day that the sale was supposed to take place. Sure enough, their buyer and seller were exactly where they’d predicted. Bucky, not exactly able to lounge at the pool without exposing his metal arm and therefore, his identity, was watching from the roof of a nearby villa. High enough that no one would be able to see him, but close enough that he had a perfect view of Charlotte.

Charlotte in that thin, stringy black bikini. Charlotte, laying back against the chair, propped up in a way that had the muscles in her stomach taut. Charlotte, the one who’s heartbeat he’d fallen asleep listening to last night. He shook his head, pressing a hand to his earpiece.

"Alright, Char, what's the plan?" His tone was serious, willing himself to switch to mission mode.

Charlotte smirked, adjusting her sunglasses as she replied, "Just sit tight, Tin Man. I've got this under control."

Bucky huffed a laugh, the sound tinged with a hint of exasperation. "Just don't get…distracted," he narrowed his eyes as a particularly confident set of men in Speedos walked in front of her.

Rolling her eyes, Charlotte scanned the scene before her, noting the men's movements. "Something tells me I’m not their type," she flipped a page on the magazine she was pretending to read, eyes still locked on their targets.

As one of the men pulled out a thumb drive, Bucky's voice grew more urgent. "They've got the goods. What's the play, Char?"

Charlotte's eyes narrowed, her mind racing as she formulated a plan. "Let me work my magic," she replied, a mischievous glint in her eye. “You got the camera ready?”

“Yes…” His skepticism was evident, but he tugged the small drone from his backpack. Flipping it on, he felt it rise from his hand with a near-silent whir, soaring down to a vantage point above the pool. It was one of Stark’s newer inventions, equipped with the same stealth mode features as the Quinjets. Even in direct sunlight like today, it was completely invisible to the naked eye, making it perfect to transmit the video footage in real time.

Bucky watched the scene below unfold. Both men leaned in over the table, clearly deep in conversation. One of them slid a small device, the zip drive, across the table. The other picked it up, examining it, before reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out a thick envelope. Rounding the edge of the pool, Charlotte padded barefoot across the patio. She’d tied a sheer scarf around her hips, doing little to hide the skimpy swimsuit beneath. A sorry excuse for a cover-up, but one he couldn’t bring himself to look away from. She approached the men with calculated confidence, her smile coy. Holding eye contact with the buyer for just a fraction longer than normal politeness, she strode right by them and up to the bar. Leaning her elbows on the surface, she stuck her hips out ever so slightly. Both men clocked it, heads turned towards her backside.

She could feel their gazes like a physical touch, exactly as she'd intended. Keeping her expression casual, she signaled the bartender. “Mojito, please,” she requested, her voice a melodic purr that carried just enough to ensure the men behind her could hear.

The bartender nodded, setting to work. As he did, Charlotte cast a sidelong glance at the pool’s reflection in the mirror behind the bar. The buyer and seller were still staring, their conversation momentarily forgotten. Charlotte allowed herself a small, satisfied smile.

“Put it on my tab.” A deep, mildly accented voice called from behind her. Bullseye.

When the bartender handed her the drink, Charlotte turned, making sure to force a blush into her cheeks “Oh, hi,” she said, her tone dripping with faux innocence. “You didn’t have to do that..”

The buyer—tall, with slicked-back hair and an expensive suit—smiled. “No problem at all,” he replied, eyes raking over her form, taking note of the absence of a ring on her left hand. The faux one she’d been given for the trip was sitting back on her nightstand. “Why don’t you join us? A beautiful woman like you shouldn’t be alone.”

Charlotte’s smile widened. “Well, if you insist.” She slid into the empty seat, crossing her legs slowly. “What brings you gentlemen here?”

In her ear, Bucky’s voice crackled. “Careful Char,” he warned. She ignored him.

The men exchanged a glance. “Business,” the seller replied curtly. He was shorter, stockier, with a sharp look in his eyes that spoke of years spent dealing with shady transactions, things he didn’t speak freely about.

“Oh?” Charlotte arched an eyebrow, taking a sip of her drink. “What kind of business?”

The buyer leaned in, lowering his voice. “The kind that pays well. Really fucking well.”

Charlotte laughed softly, leaning onto her elbows in a way that pushed her chest forward. Neither of the men made an effort to pretend they weren’t looking. “Sounds like my lucky day.”

Bucky watched from his vantage point, his jaw clenched. Charlotte was playing her part perfectly, but he couldn’t shake the unease gnawing at him. He adjusted the drone’s angle from his phone ever so slightly, ensuring he had a clear view of the table. As much as he wanted to see the show she was putting on, the point of the footage was to capture their faces, so he positioned the drone behind her.

Charlotte ran a finger along the rim of her glass, her gaze fixed on the zip drive that remained loosely held in the buyer’s left hand. “That looks vintage,” she remarked, nodding towards the watch on the same wrist. “Are you a collector?”

The buyer’s smile widened. “You could say that.” He set the zip drive down on the table, reaching over to tug up the sleeve on his left arm, holding it up for her to see. “1975 Rolex, custom made. Worth a fortune.”

Charlotte’s eyes widened slightly, feigning interest. “Really? I’ve always been fascinated by watches. Mind if I take a closer look?”

The seller hadn’t taken his eyes off her chest since she’d leaned on the table, and the buyer, clearly taken with her, unfastened and handed it over. “Be careful with it, darling. It’s not something you come across every day.”

“Of course,” she marveled. “I promise I’ll be gentle.” A mischievous look in her eye that showed a bit more than innocence. Her fingers brushed against the buyer’s as she took the watch, the touch lingering just a moment longer than necessary. She continued to ooh and ahh turning the watch over in her hands, asking questions she couldn’t give less of a shit about just to keep the men distracted.

Bucky’s grip on his phone tightened. The look in both men's eyes…he knew exactly what they wanted. Even if Charlotte was a professional, even if she could hand their asses to them with one arm tied behind her back, even if she was only his wife for the sake of the mission…it made his blood run hot. He willed her to work faster, to get out of there before one of them got handsy and made him do something he’d regret.

After twenty minutes that felt like an eternity, the buyer was fastening the watch back on his hand, the seller scrawling a phone number onto a cocktail napkin. Charlotte was cradling her chin in her hands, making doe eyes as she thanked them profusely for her drink. When the napkin was handed to her, she held it to her chest as she stood, blowing them a kiss before turning and striding away. She winked as she turned, her smile teasing. “Don’t miss me too much.”

The men didn’t take their eyes off of her.

Bucky swore, swiftly making his way back to the room.

As soon as she was out of sight, she quickened her pace, switching from the exaggerated swing of her hips to a brisk walk.

“Buck,” She breathed, pressing a finger to her ear.

“I’m here,” His answer was instantaneous. “Are you okay?”

“Meet me at the room,” She tried to keep the grin out of her voice. “Hurry!”

When she slid the keycard into the lock and pressed the door open, Bucky was already there, pacing. He stopped when he saw her, relief flooding his features. “Did you get it?”

“What, is it my first mission or something?” She slid her fingers into the triangle of fabric covering her left breast, tugging out a small black zip drive. Tossing it to him, Charlotte held up a thick envelope with a grin. “And a little something extra,” she said, tossing it onto the table with a thud. “But we’re not in the clear yet. They’ll notice soon enough.”

“Char,” He shook his head as if he wasn’t sure whether to scold or commend her for the envelope of cash she’d somehow snuck out without a single piece of fabric on her body large enough to cover it. Letting out a small chuckle, he tossed the drive back to her. “Then let’s get out of here.”

They gathered their things quickly, filling their small suitcases and –– in Charlotte’s case, changing into something a little less revealing. With a crochet sundress slipped over her bikini, she tucked the zip drive into her purse and held the door open. Bucky, one suitcase in each hand, strode right through.

“Nice work,” Bucky said, his voice low as they walked. “You handled that perfectly.”

Charlotte smirked. “What can I say? I’m good at what I do.”

Bucky chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, you are. Now let’s get this back to Stark.”

“Wait,” She paused. “Give me ten minutes. Can you have the Quinjet on the roof of that villa by the pool?”

“Char,” His tone was warning.

“Ten minutes,” She was already walking away.

Bucky looked up, eyebrows knitting together in confusion. “Where the hell are you going? We got what we came for.”

Charlotte held up a key card as she walked backwards. “This little beauty gives us access to Mr. Seller’s room. Who knows what other goodies we might find?”

“Charlotte, we can’t risk it. We need to get out of here now,” Bucky insisted, his voice tight with concern.

“Relax, Buck. I’ve got this. Just get the Quinjet ready and meet me on the roof in ten,” she waved him off, rounding the corner.

“Charlotte!” Bucky called after her, but she was gone, leaving him to swear under his breath. He had no choice but to follow her lead and hope she knew what the hell she was doing.

Charlotte moved through the resort with practiced ease, her heart pounding with adrenaline. She was thankful she put a dress on over the swimsuit, but admittedly could have opted for better shoes than the sandals she’d slid into. She slipped past other guests, too caught up in their own vacation to notice her at all. Sliding the key card into the lock, she felt a surge of triumph as the door clicked open.

Inside, she quickly scanned the room, her eyes landing on a sleek laptop and a burner phone on the desk. She grabbed both, stuffing them into her bag. As she turned to leave, she heard the unmistakable sound of security personnel approaching, an angry male voice giving them a description. Brunette, around 5’7, nice tits, upper twenties. Well, they got almost all of it right. Her pulse quickened, and she ducked out of the room, making a swift exit.

The resort was now teeming with security, their radios crackling with alerts about a thief on the property. Charlotte moved swiftly, weaving through staff hallways and down the staircases, her senses on high alert. Her head was down, eyes concealed behind sunglasses as she tried her best to be stealthy in the world’s least conducive footwear.

“Hey, you!” A voice called out from behind her. She didn’t stop to see who it was. “Excuse me, ma’am, we need to ask you a few questions.”

Charlotte paused just long enough to turn around and give the approaching guard a bewildered look. She spoke in rapid French, her tone laced with confusion and a hint of panic. “Je suis désolée, je ne parle pas anglais! Je cherche ma chambre, où est la réception?”

The guard hesitated, thrown off by the sudden language barrier. He glanced around for backup, clearly unsure how to proceed. “Uh, ma’am, we just need to—”

“Merci, merci!” Charlotte interrupted, nodding vigorously before turning and continuing her hurried pace down the hallway. The guard, still unsure, didn’t pursue immediately, giving her the precious seconds she needed.

As she rounded another corner, she slipped into a staff-only hallway, ducking through a door that led to a service corridor. The walls were lined with cleaning supplies and utility carts, providing some cover as she moved. She could hear footsteps echoing behind her, growing closer.

Charlotte spotted a side exit leading to the outdoor pool area and darted through it, emerging into the bright sunlight. The sudden change in environment disoriented her pursuers momentarily, but she knew she had to keep moving.

“Ma’am, stop right there!” Another guard shouted, now joined by a second one. They were closing in.

Without missing a beat, Charlotte kicked off her sandals and broke into a full sprint, her bare feet slapping against the hot pavement. She zigzagged through the resort, dodging guests and weaving between loungers and pool chairs.

Her heart pounded as she approached the pool, diving over a low hedge and slipping through a narrow gap between two cabanas. She could hear the guards shouting, their frustration evident as they tried to keep up.

“Bucky, I need that Quinjet now!” she hissed into her comms, her voice low but urgent.

“On it,” Bucky replied, the hum of the Quinjet’s engines audible in the background.

Charlotte spotted the rooftop access door ahead, but so did the guards closing in on her. She raced up the final flight of stairs, her muscles burning with the effort.

Bursting through the rooftop door, she saw the Quinjet hovering just above, the hatch open and waiting for her. With a final burst of speed, she launched herself towards it, hands grasping the edge as she hauled herself inside.

Bucky reached out, pulling her up the rest of the way. “What the hell were you thinking?” he snapped, his eyes flashing with anger.

Charlotte grinned, breathless but exhilarated. “I was thinking we could use a little more intel. And look what I found,” she said, pulling the laptop and phone from her bag.

Bucky shook his head, his frustration evident. “You could have been caught. Or worse.”

“But I wasn’t,” Charlotte winked, her tone light. “You worry too much, Buck.”

“That’s because you don’t worry enough,” he shot back, his voice edged with concern. “One of these days, your luck is going to run out.”

“Maybe,” she conceded, breathless and grinning. “But not today.”

Bucky sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Let’s just get out of here.”

As the Quinjet rose higher into the sky, Charlotte settled into her seat, her pulse finally starting to slow. She glanced over at Bucky, who was still fuming, his jaw set in a tight line.

“Hey,” she said softly, nudging his arm. “We did good today. And now we have even more to bring back to Stark.”

Bucky looked at her earnest smile, his expression softening just a fraction. “Yeah. We did.”

Charlotte leaned back, closing her eyes as the adrenaline began to fade. She knew Bucky was right—her risk-taking tendencies could be dangerous. But she also knew that without them, she sure as hell wouldn’t have gotten this far. It was a fine line to walk, but she was willing to walk it for the sake of the mission—and, if she was honest, for the thrill of it all.

The Quinjet sped across the sky to their rendezvous point, the cities below them all blurring together. It was just another day in their complicated, unconventional lives, but for Charlotte, it was a day well spent. And as she felt Bucky’s gaze linger on her, she knew that despite his frustration, he couldn’t deny the spark of excitement that her antics always seemed to ignite.

As they settled in for the rest of the flight, Bucky shot Charlotte a sideways glance, a hint of admiration in his eyes. "You're something else, Char," he remarked, a wry smile betraying his stern tone.

Charlotte grinned back at him, her pulse still racing with the thrill of the chase. "Just trying to keep the spark alive.”

He raised an eyebrow at her.

“In our marriage,” She winked. “Duh.”

Bucky snorted, shaking his head. "If this is your idea of a marriage, I'm not sure I can handle the honeymoon."

Charlotte leaned closer, her eyes twinkling mischievously. "Oh, come on, you know you love it. Admit it, Barnes, you were on the edge of your seat watching me back there."

He rolled his eyes but couldn't hide the small smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah, on the edge of my seat ready to jump in and save your reckless ass."

"Please," she scoffed, waving a hand dismissively. "I had everything under control. You worry too much."

Bucky's smile faded slightly, his expression turning serious. "And you don't worry enough. You can't just keep pulling stunts like that, Char. One day, you might not be so lucky."

Charlotte's playful demeanor softened for a moment. "I know, Bucky. But a very wise tutor of mine once told me to know the plan, but never be afraid to pivot during battle. And besides," she added, her grin returning, "isn't that why you love working with me? Keeps you on your toes."

He shook his head, a reluctant chuckle escaping his lips. "A wise tutor, huh?"

“Don’t let it go to your head.”

“I’ll do my best.” He shot her a sidelong look. “No more stunts like these, okay? I’m too old for this shit.”

She saluted him with a mock-serious expression. "Aye aye, Captain. No more near-death experiences...for today."

Bucky rolled his eyes again but couldn't suppress his grin. "You're impossible."

"And yet, here you are, stuck with me," she teased, leaning back in her seat.

"Yeah, yeah," he muttered, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Just promise me you'll be careful, Char. I don't want to have to explain to Nat why we lost her favorite agent."

Charlotte placed a hand over her heart in a mock pledge. "I solemnly swear to be as careful as my reckless nature allows."

Bucky shook his head, but his eyes were warm. "That's a start."

______

An hour into the flight back to the compound, they’d received an incoming call from Agent Hill. Apparently the notorious Midwestern spring storms were looming in their path, making the normally simple flight a little more treacherous.

Bucky rubbed his jaw as he leaned against the console of the Quinjet, exchanging an exasperated glance with Charlotte. "Maria, what do you mean we can't fly? We're in the sturdiest fucking aircraft there is."

Maria Hill's voice crackled over the comms, her tone firm but sympathetic. "I know, Barnes, but we've got some bad storms rolling directly through your path. It's not safe to be up there right now. You need to find somewhere to land and wait it out until the weather clears."

Charlotte crossed her arms, frustration evident in her voice. "Agent Hill, we have intel we need to get to you. We’re so close to being home, just another two hours ––"

"I understand, Charlotte," Maria interrupted, her tone firm. "But your safety comes first. You won't be any good to us if you end up caught in a storm or worse. We received the drone footage from Sergeant Barnes, any other intel can wait until you get back tomorrow"

Bucky sighed, running a hand through his hair. "She's right, Char. We can't risk it."

Charlotte shot him a defiant look. "Where the hell are we supposed to go? Where even are we?"

Natasha's voice cut in over the comms, her tone calm but authoritative. "You’re over Oklahoma. I’d recommend detouring south to avoid the storm cell, hiding out in our North Texas safe house. I’ll send over the coordinates."

Bucky exchanged a resigned glance with Charlotte before nodding. "Fine. It better not be one of the shitty old ones."

"It’s one of Stark’s old vacation homes," Maria replied. "I think you’ll find it…comfortable. Just be safe, both of you. We'll regroup once the weather clears."

With a heavy sigh, Bucky switched off the comms, the tension in the cockpit palpable. They were so close to being back home, but now they were grounded by forces beyond their control. As Bucky scanned the horizon, the storm clouds loomed ominously in the distance, making Charlotte’s stomach flop. She’d grown up in a cold, frigid climate. Summer storms and tornadoes still made her uneasy, especially combining an unfamiliar environment.

But she wasn’t the captain, and they’d been given a direct order. Sighing, Charlotte leaned back in her seat, knowing there was no amount of insubordination that would get her out of this one.

As the Quinjet touched down in the field next to the large safe house, Bucky and Charlotte stared out the windshield, both sighing deeply. The rain was coming down in sheets, making visibility near zero. They could barely see the house thirty yards in front of them. With a sense of resignation, they grabbed the bags, hurried out of the Quinjet and dashed towards the safety of the house. The rain soaked them through in a matter of seconds as they sprinted across the yard.

They stumbled up the porch steps, clumsy and slipping, as they reached for the door handle, their soaked clothes clinging to their skin. Bucky punched in the security code, and with a click, the door swung open.

They practically tumbled inside, Bucky dropping both of their bags on the ground with a wet thunk. Water pooled at their feet as they stood in the entrance hall, dripping onto the undoubtedly expensive hardwood floor.

Charlotte let out a breathless laugh, running a hand through her sodden hair. "Well, this is…not how I saw today going."

Bucky scowled, raising an eyebrow at her. "Funny, I’ve thought that several times today."

“Don’t be a dick.” She rolled her eyes.

As the rain continued to pour outside, Charlotte stood dripping on the rug, her soaked dress clinging to her curves, her hair plastered to her skin. Grabbing the hem of her dress, she tugged it over her head, revealing that damn black bikini underneath. Pulling it over her head, she paused, the soaked material knotted in her long, dark hair, already curling from the rain. She hesitated, glancing back at Bucky, her expression a mix of frustration and amusement as she attempted to tug the ends of her hair free.

"Good thing I’m wearing a swimsuit," she muttered, her voice laced with sarcasm.

Bucky watched her, momentarily stunned into silence by the sight before him. He couldn't tear his gaze away from her, the way the rain droplets ran down her body, the way her muscles moved beneath her skin as she tangled with her hair. His heart raced in his chest, his blood burning in his veins.

"Let me help you with that," Bucky finally said, his voice low and husky as he stepped forward. Moving closer to Charlotte, he reached out to gently untangle the dress from her hair, his fingers brushing against her shoulder with a feather-light touch.

Charlotte's breath caught in her throat as Bucky's touch sent a shiver down her spine. She met his gaze, her eyes locking with his in a silent exchange. He easily freed the dress, letting it drop to the floor. There was a palpable tension in the air, thick with things they’d repressed, fought against, lied to themselves about. Now, everything that had previously stood in their way was nowhere to be found. There was no mission, no teammates sharing a wall, no Sam to come interrupt them.

In a way, it felt like they’d lost their safety net. Nothing stood between them and certain death.

Nothing stood between them at all.

"Thanks," Charlotte murmured, her voice barely above a whisper as she stepped back, the space between them suddenly feeling charged with electricity.

Bucky swallowed hard, his heart pounding in his chest as he struggled to maintain his composure. He felt his grip on himself loosening, slipping away. His fists clenched at his sides. Closing his eyes, he swallowed hard, trying to remember any reason he shouldn’t do what his body was telling –– begging him to do.

He felt her touch first.

Her hands on his leather jacket. They gripped the lapels, pulling it back, down his arms. It dropped to the floor.

Her hands found the hem of his t-shirt, slid beneath it. His skin burned under her touch, where she brushed his stomach as she lifted the shirt. Raising his arms, their eyes locked as she reached up to pull it over his head. His hair was soaked, a few loose strands plastered to his face. Giving in to her temptation, she ran her hands down his body. Her fingers trailed over his collarbone, over the ridge where his arm met his shoulder, over his chest and the muscles that rippled across his abdomen. She let her eyes roam over him unapologetically, drinking up every muscle, every scar, every glint of his arm in the low light. When she looked back up to meet his gaze, she almost didn’t recognize the man staring down at her.

There was a wild look in his eye that made Charlotte forget who she was, who he was. It burned into her, making her feel naked in ways far beyond just clothing.

Without breaking eye contact, he kicked off his boots. His hands went to his belt, unfastening it, unbuttoning his jeans, lowering the zipper. He paused, seeming to come back to himself for a moment. They stood there, still soaking wet, in the entryway. Rain pounded against the roof, wind howling outside. Charlotte was in a black bikini, Bucky in unbuttoned jeans. Both of them showing more skin to the other than they’d ever dared.

A moment passed between them. Shallow breathing. Hungry eyes. Thunderous heartbeats.

Slowly, tortuously, Charlotte reached up and brushed her wet hair to one side. Her eyes remained locked on Bucky as she tugged on one string of her bikini top. The knot on the back of her neck instantly unraveled, the top falling down to her stomach, revealing her bare chest to him. His breath caught in his throat, his pants feeling tighter. She reached her hands down to the second knot, tugging on it before letting the whole swimsuit top join the rest of their discarded clothing on the floor.

“Fuck,” Bucky breathed, unable to formulate another thought.

Charlotte took a step towards him, closing the gap between them. She looked up at him, cocking her head ever so slightly. “Is that an offer?”

Whatever leash he’d had on his restraint snapped.

Bucky reached out, his hand cupping Charlotte's cheek as he leaned in closer, his lips mere inches from hers. His heart hammered in his chest, every nerve in his body on edge with anticipation.

Charlotte's breath caught in her throat as she felt Bucky's touch, his warmth seeping into her skin and setting her ablaze. She met his gaze, her eyes dark with longing, silently urging him to take the next step.

And then, in a heartbeat, it happened. Bucky closed the final distance between them, his lips crashing into hers. It was hard and ravenous and impatient and greedy. His hand slid from her cheek to the nape of her neck, tangling in her wet hair. His other hand found her waist, gripping her hard with cold metal fingers. Her arms wrapped around his torso, trailing down his back. She dug her nails in ever-so-slightly, eliciting a low moan from him, devoured by their kiss.

The kiss was a mess of wet skin and lust, it was sloppy and desperate. For a fleeting instant, nothing else mattered but the electrifying connection between them, the raw intensity of their desire igniting like a wildfire. It was a kiss of longing and longing, a silent confession of the feelings that had been simmering beneath the surface for far too long.

A big fuck you to every single time they’d repressed their feelings, every single time they’d fought the urge to cross this line in the sand.

Charlotte’s hands slipped into his waistband, tugging his soaked jeans down over his hips. Bucky stepped out of them, leading Charlotte backwards without breaking the kiss. They stepped backwards through the dark entryway, dripping water across the floor. Charlotte’s hands gripped either side of his face as she followed his lead, one of his hands on her lower back, the other outstretched behind her. With a thud, his hand collided with a wall, immediately backing her against it. Their bare chests collided, skin sticky from the rain and warm with desire.

In one movement, both of Charlotte’s hands were pinned above her head in a vibranium grip. Bucky angled his head, reaching up to cup her jaw as he slid his tongue along her lower lip. A whimper, a whine escaped her lips, only serving to ignite him further. Sliding a knee between her thighs, Charlotte nearly gasped at the sensation. She writhed against his thigh, chasing this strange and euphoric feeling as he rubbed against her. His hand dropped from her jaw, trailing down her neck, across her breasts, down her stomach. It reached around behind her and slid into her bikini bottoms, squeezing her ass so tightly she sucked in a breath. She’d never felt this good, felt this needy, this desperate.

She’d never done this before.

Her heart thudded in her chest as Bucky released her hands, bringing both of his down underneath her, lifting her up until her back was against the wall and her legs were wrapped around him. She locked her ankles behind his back, pulling his hips even closer to hers. He was rock hard, pressing against the spot threatening to ignite her whole body. Wiggling her hips, she ground herself into him.

“Oh, God ––” He closed his eyes, throwing his head back as her hips pressed against him.

When he brought his head back down, he pressed his forehead to Charlotte’s, both of their breaths coming in ragged gasps. Hearts pounded, chests heaved. For a moment they stayed, pinned against the wall, holding each other.

“Char,” He groaned.

“Mmm,” The noise she made was somewhere between a reply and a moan as she ran her hands through his hair.

“Do you want this?”

She paused, hands freezing on his neck.

Hell yes, fuck yes, she absolutely wanted this. This sensation, this feeling, everything that was just happening. She wanted it to never, ever end. She wanted to feel him, she wanted to give herself to him, let this aggressive and demanding version of James Buchanan Barnes take as much of her as he needed.

“Buck…” She breathed, closing her eyes.

“Hey,” He slowly lowered her to the ground, ensuring she was steady on her feet before reaching up to cup her cheeks. “Hey, what’s wrong? We don’t have to do this, we don’t ––”

“No,” She met his gaze, eyes determined. “I want this. I want…this.” Rising onto her tiptoes, she gripped the back of his head, bringing his lips to hers in a slow, wet, deep kiss. They slowly separated, Charlotte dropping back down to her normal height. “I want it all…so badly. I just,” She closed her eyes, leaning her head back against the wall. “I don’t know how.”

A moment of silence passed between them.

“You don’t know how…” He spoke the words slowly, as if he was trying to figure out what they mean.

“I mean, I never have.” Her eyes met his, willing, begging him to understand. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Oh,” Bucky's gaze softened as he realized what Charlotte was trying to tell him. He gently brushed a strand of hair from her face, his touch tender and reassuring. "Oh." he repeated, his voice filled with understanding.

"Charlotte, that's nothing to be ashamed of." He paused, searching her eyes for any sign of discomfort. "It's okay. We don't have to rush into anything. We can take our time." His hands slid down the backs of her arms, gently, softly.

Charlotte's eyes flicked up to meet his gaze, and she tangled her fingers in his own as they reached down her arms. "What if I don’t want to take my time," she breathed, her voice trembling slightly.

“Char…”

"Bucky.” She squeezed his hands. “I want this. I want to do this. I want to learn. With you. I trust you."

Bucky's heart swelled, and he leaned in to press a soft kiss to her forehead. "I'll teach you," he whispered, his lips brushing against her skin. "We'll go slow. I'll show you everything, and if you ever want to stop, you just tell me, okay?"

She nodded, her insides throbbing at his gentleness. Bucky lifted her chin, making sure she looked into his eyes. "We'll start with the basics," he said, his voice steady and comforting. "We'll go at your pace."

“Can we skip the basics and go back to where we just were?” She pleaded, bringing his hands up to her breasts. A groan escaped his lips as he squeezed, ever-so-gently. His thumbs grazed her nipples before trailing back down to her hips.

“If you want me to teach you…you have to let me start from the beginning.” A devilish grin.

He leaned in again, his lips capturing hers in a slow, tender kiss. This time, there was no rush, no urgency. It was a kiss filled with promise and patience, a kiss that told her he was in no hurry and that he valued her comfort above all else.

Charlotte melted into the kiss, her hands slowly finding their way to his shoulders. She felt the heat of his body, the steady beat of his heart against her chest. It was a feeling of safety, of being cherished.

Bucky's hands moved gently, exploring the curves of her body with a reverence that made her feel beautiful and desired and fuck, so impatient. He took his time, tantalizing her. As his hands caressed her back, her sides, and finally the soft skin of her belly, Charlotte felt like she was going to boil over.

When he finally broke the kiss, she was breathless but smiling. "How was that?" Bucky asked softly, his forehead resting against hers.

"Perfect," Charlotte whispered, her voice strained. "But can we get to the next part, please."

He smirked, his thumb gently tracing the outline of her jaw. "What’s the rush, Char?"

She groaned, leaning her head back. “You’re killing me, Buck,”

“Am I?” He cocked his head in a way she’d never seen, mouth slightly agape. His hand trailed down her stomach, slid between her legs, making her bite her lip so hard it nearly split. Metal fingers slid the band of black fabric to the side, making a long, leisurely swipe through her. A truly pathetic whimper escaped her lips as he pulled his hand back up, examining his fingers in the dim lighting. His gaze darkened as he looked her dead in the eye, bringing his fingers to his lips and slowly sucking the first two.

“Bucky,” Charlotte whined. “Please.”

Bucky's grin widened, and he took her hand. “For the next part,” He led her towards a long hallway. “I think we’ll need a bed.”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x oc #bucky fluff #winter soldier #avengers #bucky fanfic #james bucky barnes #winter soldier fluff

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beefromanoff · 12 days

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Steve + text posts pt. 3/?

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beefromanoff · 15 days

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grabs your hand. you've had enough plot and exposition and character development lately im taking you to the beach episode

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beefromanoff · 16 days

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are you mdni? wanna ask before i follow

yes — minors do not interact, everyone consume at your own pace ❤️

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beefromanoff · 17 days

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edit: I did it hehehe here's the masterlist <3

GUYS — while I know that I have two currently active fics that I already love and plan to continue…I really want to start another 🫣 WAIT HEAR ME OUT — a Stucky x reader this time. okay okay, just read the teaser and let me know if I should do it.

________

“Steve, are you out of your mind? She’s a kid!” Bucky hissed.

Steve ran a hand through his hair, uncharacteristically disheveled, before jabbing a finger into his friend’s chest. “Don’t act like you haven’t had the exact same thoughts I have.”

Pausing, Bucky set his jaw and rubbed his hand along it, thinking. He closed his eyes for a moment, sighing heavily. When he opened his eyes again, something had changed, shifted inside him. His voice was low when he spoke. “She’s only twenty-five.”

“She’s still an adult. She’s made it clear what she wants.”

“We’re a little more than adults, Stevie. We knew her grandmother for fuck’s sake.” Throwing his hands in the air, Bucky stepped back, pacing around the dark living room. “We’re decades older than her.”

Steve’s eyes had a wild glint to them that Bucky wasn’t sure he’d ever seen before. He didn’t blink as he replied. “It doesn’t seem to phase her. Quite the opposite, I’d argue.”

“Jesus, Steve,” He muttered, shaking his head. “Aren’t you supposed to be the one talking us out of this? The voice of reason? The morality compass?”

“I’m having a really hard time thinking of any reason I shouldn’t pick up the phone and call her right now.” Steve’s voice was calm, even.

“Okay,” Bucky dropped down next to him on the couch. “Say…you do that. You call her. Then what?”

Steve stared blankly ahead, absently reaching for the half-empty beer that was all but forgotten on the coffee table.

“She answers,” Bucky continued. “You say…?”

“I don’t know.” He sighed, seeming to break from his trance.

“I mean,” Bucky let out a deep breath, leaning back against the sofa. “I get it. Believe me, I fucking get it. The fact is…she’s twenty five. We’re…not. She’s the granddaughter of a girl we knew when we were teenagers. She’s Stark’s prized fucking pony, whatever the hell internship program he’s running.” He ran his hand along his jaw again. “As if all of that weren’t reason enough to forget this whole thing…there’s still the most glaringly obvious issue.”

“What’s that?” Steve chuckled, pinching the bridge of his nose, as if in disbelief at the conversation they were having.

“There’s two of us…and one of her.”

A moment of silence hung between them.

Steve’s voice was low, cautious.

“Why does that have to be a problem?”

#stucky #stucky x reader #steve rogers #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes #james bucky barnes #avengers #steve and bucky #bucky barnes x oc #bucky fanfic #bucky fluff #winter soldier #sebastian stan #captain america

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beefromanoff · 24 days

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every week ted lasso is consistently like “the villains are not people they are the constructs, cultures, and mindsets we fall victim to, these intangible villains are not who we are but we also do things we must be held accountable for while under the influence of these antagonistic forces of vengeance and vanity and insecurity and retribution and toxic masculinity and silence and mistrust, and if you break through all of that noise to instead choose radical empathy you will become a fundamentally better and more loving, forgiving, person capable of real happiness. except for rupert. he’s the fucking worst.”

and they’re fucking right.

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beefromanoff · 24 days

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Ted Lasso Finale + parallels

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beefromanoff · 24 days

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Jamie being cute (5/?)

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beefromanoff · 26 days

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Project Mockingbird Ch. 19

summary: Bucky and Char are assigned to an undercover mission.

pairing: Bucky Barnes x OC

author's note: so much angst, so much happy, so many feels. UGH. l hope you enjoy! this chapter was originally going to be twice as long, but I decided to break it into two parts so I could upload this week. thanks for reading, ilysm! let me know what you think!

tag list: @bangtanxberm @scott-loki-barnes @kayhi808 @charmedbysarge

(let me know if you want to be added <3)

chapter list

_______________

The training room was dead quiet.

A far cry from its usual self, with the clang of weights and movement and the occasional grunt. Now, there was just the silence, heavy and thick. Bucky and I sat on the cold floor, our breaths the only sound, his shaky and mind shallow. I hardly moved, save for the hand idly stroking his hair. The strands that had once been damp with sweat had since dried, a slight curl to them now. Hours had passed, though I barely noticed until the clock on the wall showed it was rapidly approaching midnight. My foot had nearly gone numb from the awkward angle my leg was bent underneath me. Despite the discomfort, I didn’t want to move. Didn’t want to disturb Bucky now that his sobs had given way to these quiet, shuddering breaths. Especially since the alternative would be to march him back through the compound, through people who would see him and ask questions and wonder. So I kept still. I waited for the world to go to sleep. I kept my hand moving against his hair, his cheek. I felt my foot prickle and go numb. Another hour passed.

Eventually, I nudged him gently, not entirely sure if he was awake or asleep. "Let's get you up," I murmured, more to fill the silence than anything else. He moved like a robot, his eyes not really seeing, staring off into some distance I couldn’t reach. I kept a hand on his back as I tugged him to his feet. He obliged, thankfully. I knew I could carry him, but this journey would be a lot simpler with him walking under his own volition.

We walked slowly across the gym, out into the cool night air. There wasn’t a soul to be found. I knew there were night agents scattered at their posts around the compound, but I prayed they’d mind their business tonight. We trudged down the path, Bucky’s eyes still clouded and distant, my hands holding tightly to his left arm. We got to our building, into the elevator, and eventually out the doors to our residential floor, where our friends had long since gone to sleep. A single lamp had been left on in the living area, I noticed. Probably Steve or Natasha’s doing. I had a feeling if I looked in the fridge, I’d find two plates set aside for us as well. Unfortunately, I hadn’t had much of an appetite since finding Bucky’s file. God, that felt like a lifetime ago. We crossed the living room to his door, his silence weighing down on me. It was a heavy kind of quiet, filled with the echoes of the horrors those files had dragged back into the light. I turned the knob and let us into his room. I’d never crossed the threshold before, but I’d be lying if I said I never wondered what it was like. The space was clean, simple, but I didn’t allow myself to look around. Now wasn’t the time to see if I’d been right in my assumptions. I’d be nosy on some future visit, maybe when he actually invited me in. For now, I was doing what he needed. Or at least, what I would have needed if it had been my file we stumbled upon.

He stood numbly in the center of the room, still clad in his training clothes. Slowly, tenderly, I lifted his shirt over his head. I removed his clothing piece by piece, trying not to spook him. It felt important, being allowed to do this, like I was being trusted with something fragile. Under any other circumstances, having him stripped down to his underwear in front of me would have my cheeks bright red and my skin on fire…but not now. My heart ached for him. I wished I could follow that blank stare to whatever nightmare he was back in, just so I could fight it off and bring him back to me, back to this moment. Somehow it was even more unnerving to see someone so strong, so stoic, like this. He was raw and exposed and vulnerable, standing here, nearly naked in his room. I’d seen him shirtless before, but not this close. His body was defined, he looked like he was carved from stone. I lifted my hands to his chest, my fingers brushing over the ridge of scar tissue where his vibranium arm had been fused to his body. The skin was red, jagged, angry. Like they’d haphazardly put him back together. I wondered if it still hurt him. Hot tears stung my eyes as I fought back thoughts of what he’d seen, survived. I tore myself back to the moment, pushing my white-hot rage aside for the moment.

Gently, I pushed him to sit on the edge of his bed, kneeling before him. His head hung, his eyes fixed on the floor. One by one, I put his shoes on my lap, undoing the laces and slipping them off. “I’ll be right back.” I promised, unsure if he could even hear me, wherever he’d gone in his mind.

I got the shower running, making sure it was nice and warm, before stepping back out. Looping my arm through his, I pulled him to his feet, ushering him into the already steamy bathroom. I debated whether to give him some privacy or stay, and once again –– his unseeing look kept me rooted to his side. Gently, I slid my fingertips inside the waistband of his boxers and tugged them down his legs. Thankfully, these luxurious bathrooms we each had in our rooms didn’t have shower doors, you simply walked in. Yet another feature that reminded me of my stint in Las Vegas.

I gently nudged his back, muscles taut and tense as he stepped into the stream of water. “This should help,” I murmured as it soaked his hair, running down his chest. The room had completely filled up with steam, making everything else seem even further away. Slowly, I washed his hair, taking my time and making sure the sweat and the trauma and the nightmare of a day all washed down the drain. When I was finished, I turned the water off and towel dried his hair, wiping the droplets off of his body. I kept my eyes to myself as much as possible as I worked. I didn’t exist as someone he knew, someone he’d almost kissed. I didn’t exist as someone with feelings for him or someone who hoped he felt the same way. In this moment, I existed only to keep his demons from swallowing him whole.

After finding a clean t-shirt and fresh pair of boxers and coaxing him back onto his bed, I looked over him one more time. He was massive, his muscled back showing through his shirt, nearly as tall as I was standing up while he was seated. Yet, he looked so small.

Fuck. I hated HYDRA for what they’d done to him. For the horrors he’d seen and been forced to relive. For the monster he believed himself to be. For the brutality he’d been forced to live and now live with. For how small and fragile he looked in front of me right now. I leaned forward, my hand brushing his cheek as I pressed a gentle kiss to his brow. I prayed he didn’t see the tight fist my other hand was clenched into, tight with rage and a promise to the empire I would personally bring down.

“Goodnight, Buck. I’m only a few doors down. Call me if you need anything.”

A hand gripped my wrist as I turned to leave. Looking over my shoulder, his blue eyes met mine for the first time all night.

“Will you stay?” His voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper. I hated the shame that flooded his eyes, that knit his brow together. This was the second time in twelve hours he’d asked me not to leave him. Whatever remained of my frozen heart melted into nothingness. Crawling onto his bed, I touched his cheek again.

“Of course,” I breathed. “I’m not going anywhere.”

_________

Two weeks later

The room was bristling with a focused energy, screens aglow and papers shuffling as Maria Hill stood at the front, flicking through slides on the projector. The usual suspects—Steve, Natasha, Tony, Charlotte, and Bucky—were scattered around the table.

Maria’s voice was crisp as she addressed them. “The sale of stolen Stark Industries tech is scheduled to occur at the Sanctuary Resort this weekend. The mission is simple, to head off the sale, obtain evidence of the transaction, and retrieve the tech. We aren’t anticipating a need for violent intervention.”

Charlotte leaned back in her chair, raising an eyebrow. “I’m honestly surprised, Tony, that your tech doesn’t have a self-destruct feature.”

“He saves the self-destruction for himself.” Nat winked.

Tony smirked, glancing over at her. “It does have a self-destruct feature, actually. And this one happens to have an audio transmitting feature, which is how we know exactly where they’ll be. But rather than just disarm the tech and render it useless, I thought we’d add a little flare. I want to publicly humiliate these clowns by having the sale busted wide open. I want the good name of Hammer Industries to be besmirched beyond salvation.”

Steve and Bucky locked eyes as Steve raised an eyebrow and mouthed ‘besmirched?’ Furrowing her brow, Charlotte leaned forward onto her elbows. “Let me get this straight.” She pointed at Tony. “You installed safeguards against this very situation in the tech in question. However, rather than use the safeguard for the exact reason it was created, you’d rather use SHIELD time and resources and deploy a team of the most powerful and deadly individuals on the planet to go and do that for you? All for the sake of embarrassing your competitor?”

Tony paused, pretending to think. “Yeah, that about sums it up.”

Charlotte rolled her eyes, chuckling with the rest of the group.

“As the primary benefactor of both SHIELD and the Avengers,” Tony continued. “Well, and all of you personally. For the most part, not talking to you, Moneybags,” he winked at Charlotte. “I feel entitled to using these resources for personal gain every now and again.”

Maria continued, ignoring him, as usual. “We need two of you to go undercover at the resort to ensure the tech is secured and the buyers and sellers are apprehended. This is delicate; we can't just storm in or we risk them aborting the mission entirely.”

Steve looked over at Bucky, then at Charlotte. “I think Charlotte should go,” he said quickly. “She needs more field experience.”

Natasha nodded in agreement. “And Bucky’s great undercover. His poker face is unparalleled. Plus,” She shrugged. “Steve and I are too recognizable.”

Charlotte shot them both a narrow look, catching the hint of a setup, but she stayed silent, waiting to see how Bucky would react. He simply raised his eyebrows and looked at Maria, waiting for instructions. Her stomach turned. Things around them had been…fine. Suspiciously so. After the night she’d spent with him, they never spoke of it again. She’d woken up to a mug of coffee on the nightstand and a note that simply read, ‘thank you.’ Sensing he didn’t want to talk about it, she followed his lead. Now, two weeks later, they’d simply gone back to their normal shit-talking, borderline flirtatious dynamic.

Maria looked between them. “Alright. Bucky, Charlotte, you’re on this. I’ll arrange for you to stay at a safe house nearby.”

Natasha quickly chimed in, “Actually, Maria, I was thinking we should book them a suite at the resort itself. It’s crucial they stay close, maintain a visual on the targets at all times. A successful mission could depend on proximity and their ability to act quickly, so having them on property would be prudent.”

Maria raised an eyebrow but nodded. “Very well, that makes sense. I’ll make the arrangements.”

Tony, gathering his things, couldn’t help but add, “Just remember, the mission is to catch the bad guys, not spa treatments and room service. Keep your eyes on the prize, kids.”

Charlotte chuckled, shaking her head. “No promises, Tony.”

As the others began to disperse, Natasha leaned over to Charlotte, whispering with a conspiratorial grin, “You can thank me later for the suite. Just make sure to keep the noise down, yeah?”

Charlotte rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a smirk. “Subtle, Nat. Very subtle.”

_________

I'm running. My heart hammers against my ribcage so fiercely I fear it might break through. The trees are a blur of green and brown, the ground beneath my feet cold and uneven. My breath forms ragged clouds in the air, mingling with the whispered German commands crackling through the earpiece:

“Verfolgen. Töten.” Track. Kill.

I want to rip the earpiece out, scream into the silence of the woods, but my body isn’t mine. It moves with mechanical precision, every step, every breath choreographed by someone else. My hands are steady, too steady for someone supposed to be human.

There’s a figure ahead, darting between the trees. I know nothing about them—age, gender, reasons for being here—only that they are my target. My mission. And like a well-oiled machine, I follow. The chase is methodical, a grotesque dance I’ve performed too many times. The programming is flawless; not once do my steps falter.

But inside, I am screaming.

I'm close now, so close I can hear their panicked breaths, see the mist they exhale. The commands in my ear grow louder, more insistent.

“Schnell! Erledige es!” Quick! Finish it!

I raise my gun. My hand doesn’t tremble. It should tremble. Why doesn’t it tremble?

“Please,” the figure begs, turning around. Their face is blurry, indistinct, but their eyes are clear, wide with terror. They see me, truly see me, and in their eyes, I’m a monster.

I am a monster.

I squeeze the trigger. The sound is deafening, a brutal punctuation to the nightmare I’m trapped in. The figure falls, and suddenly the woods are silent, oppressively silent. I stand over them, my breaths shallow, the gun heavy in my hand.

The German commands praise me, cold and emotionless. “Gut gemacht.” Well done.

But it’s not well done. It’s horrific. I drop to my knees, the gun slipping from my grasp. I'm shaking, tears streaming down my face, mingled with sweat and dirt. My heart aches, not from the exertion, but from the sheer terror of what I’ve become. What they made me.

And then, suddenly, I'm awake, gasping for air in the darkness of my room, the remnants of the woods and the cold eyes fading into the shadows of my bedroom. My body is slick with sweat, my sheets tangled around my legs as if they too know of my guilt, my horror.

I remember everything. Every command, every mission, every life taken. And it haunts me, every single night.

________

The morning sun was bright, warming the hangar through the open bay doors as Bucky and I deposited our bags at the foot of the Quinjet ramp. Since this mission was in the United States, we didn’t have to leave at the ass crack of dawn like the previous mission, which I much preferred. Our attire was a little different, too. I adjusted the tennis dress I was wearing, a light, neutral thing that seemed more suited for a country club than a mission, but it was perfect for our cover. Bucky, in his turn, looked unexpectedly dashing in casual khaki pants and a crisp white shirt, the very picture of a man ready for a luxurious vacation and escape from his corporate empire. He’d let his facial hair grow out and slicked his hair back, a few slight changes to keep him from being recognized. The watch he wore on his right wrist had been equipped with holographic technology, the same used for the Quinjet when it went into stealth mode. While he wore it, Bucky’s metal hand appeared normal and flesh.

They’d drawn up a loose picture of who we were supposed to be this weekend –– Mr. and Mrs. Van Damme, a childless couple from Vermont who lived off of his stock market prowess. We’d decided to end tax season with a trip out to Scottsdale, Arizona. Maria had booked the trip over email, posing as Mr. Van Damme’s office secretary and personal assistant. She’d made it clear that privacy and discretion was very important to our stay, making it clear that housekeeping services would not be required at all this weekend. I supposed it wouldn’t bode well for our ‘undercover’ shtick if some poor, unassuming housekeeper walked into our room to see the small arsenal of spyware and handguns that we’d laden our bags with.

Natasha and Steve came striding towards us, their expressions a mask barely-concealed amusement. They stopped, giving us the once-over, nodding approvingly at our transformation.

“Look at you two,” Natasha teased, her eyes twinkling. “America’s most glamorous power couple.”

Bucky shot her a look, but there was a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Don’t start, Nat.”

Steve clapped Bucky on the shoulder, leaning in to whisper something that made Bucky’s eyes widen momentarily before he glanced over at me, his cheeks tinged with pink. I was dying to know what was said, but Natasha grabbed my arm, pulling me a few steps away before I could pry.

“Alright, Char,” she began, her voice low and mischievous, “you’ve got the perfect set up here. Beautiful resort, romantic dinners under the stars… If you’re planning to make a move, I’d say the universe is handing you a golden ticket.”

I felt my face heat up at her insinuation. “Nat, we’re there to work,” I murmured, although a part of me fluttered at the thought.

“Work and play don’t have to be mutually exclusive,” she winked, giving me a gentle shove back towards Bucky.

The agents around us gave a thumbs up, indicating they’d loaded our bags and completed final pre-flight checks. Walking up the ramp, I caught Bucky’s eye. He looked annoyed and slightly embarrassed, likely still processing whatever Steve had told him. I ignored it, focusing on my own jitters.

“Ready for this?” I asked, my voice steady despite the butterflies rioting in my stomach.

Bucky nodded, his gaze intense. “Always.”

We climbed into the jet, the doors closing behind us with a soft hiss. As the engines roared to life, I settled in the co-pilot's seat next to Bucky, our arms brushing. I tried to ignore the burning on my skin from the contact, twisting the diamond ring on my finger to distract myself.

“That’ll take some getting used to, huh?” He nodded at my hands before continuing to set us up for flight.

“Yeah,” I chuckled. “But there are worse aspects to the job.” I held my left hand out and admired the massive stone twinkling in the sunlight. I’d intentionally not asked if the ring was real or fake, not wanting to give myself undue pressure not to lose it. In my mind, like the marriage, this ring was all for show.

“Yeah, this shouldn’t suck.” He met my eyes and gave a half smile as we lifted off the ground.

As the Quinjet ascended into the sky, the landscape below shrinking to miniature proportions, I wasn’t sure if the flipping in my gut was from the look or from our departure. Bucky's casual remark about the ring only added to the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside me.

"Personally, I hate sunshine and relaxation," I drawled, attempting to lighten the mood. “Spending a few days in one of the most gorgeous places in the world? Shitty. We should be getting hazard pay for this.”

Bucky chuckled, the sound warm and genuine. "I’d agree with the hazard pay if you were flying us," he admitted, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “But I can think of worse ways to spend this week.”

I shot him a playful glare, my heart fluttering at the sight of his smile. "First of all, fuck off," I teased, my voice betraying the nervous flutter in my chest. “Second of all, you don’t strike me as the type to sit by the pool and sip Mai Tais.”

“I prefer margaritas.” His face was stoic.

I paused, still not entirely sure when he was joking. “I…have to agree with you on that one.”

“I like the warm weather.” He shifted us into autopilot and switched off stealth mode as we soared outside the compound’s shields. “The sun, the breeze. Anything but the cold.”

A chill ran through me as I flashed back to the snow, the bases in Germany and Siberia. The freezing air on my cheeks, the woods, the bleak gray skies. Shaking my head, I fumbled over my words despite myself. “Yeah, I –– uh…I don’t like it either. I was kidding…before.”

“I figured.” He shot a half smile and a sidelong look my way.

As the minutes ticked by, the tension in the air thickened, the weight of our unspoken thoughts hanging between us like a heavy fog. I stole a glance at Bucky, his profile illuminated by the soft glow of the control panel, and felt a pang of guilt twist in my chest.

The memory of his breakdown in the training room haunted me, a stark reminder of the darkness lurking beneath our surface level conversations. The only kind we seemed to be able to have these days. I wanted to reach out, to offer him some semblance of comfort, but the words lodged in my throat, suffocated by the weight of my own uncertainty. He knew I was here for him, surely. He’d talk to me when he was ready. If he was ever ready.

I knew I’d be here either way.

–––––––––

The desert sun dipped below the horizon, casting a fiery glow that lit the expansive balcony of the resort. Bucky and I sat at a secluded table near the edge, our attire blending perfectly with the affluent crowd. I had chosen a sleek black dress that toed the line between classy and slutty, while Bucky was in a dark suit that made him look like stepped out of some mafia movie. His hair was slicked back, making him look every bit the business mogul he was pretending to be.

Our target, a middle-aged man with a cropped hairstyle, nursed a drink at the bar. His casual glances around the room didn't betray his purpose here, but we knew better. We observed him discreetly, taking note of every interaction he had.

A waitress approached, her smile bright. "Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Van Damme. Can I start you off with some champagne?"

"Please," Bucky replied with a charming smile, sliding into his role with ease. He looked at me with a twinkle in his eye, playing the part of the doting husband.

As she walked away, I swirled the stem of the glass in my fingers, the ambiance of the resort making this feel almost too real. "You know," I started, a shy smile playing on my lips, "I've never actually been on a date before. This—even though it's all a cover—is kind of a first for me."

Bucky's expression softened. "Really? Well, I'm honored to be your first. Even if it's just pretend."

I laughed, the sound more nervous than I intended. "It's weird, right? After everything... I mean, how do you even start to think about dating or... connecting with anyone who doesn't know how twisted and fucked up your life has been?" I took a sip of the champagne, feeling it ignite my stomach in the best way. The air had cooled off significantly as the sun sank below the mountains in the distance.

"It's not easy," Bucky admitted, his gaze lingering on the desert view before us. "Feels like nobody could really understand unless they've been through something similar. All that stuff doesn't just go away. It’s not really something you feel like catching someone up on over dinner."

I chuckled, although it really wasn’t funny. "Yeah. In some ways, it’s nice to pretend to be someone else.” I gestured at myself, him, the table between us. “I actually enjoy it. This is what I did for months, back in Vegas. I didn’t feel like I had to explain myself or hide something, I just…became someone else. I changed my hair all the time. It felt safer, the anonymity. The lack of anyone really knowing or caring about me. I wasn’t special…and I think that’s why I loved it so much.”

Bucky gave me a half smile, sipping his champagne before leaning forward. “I hate to tell you this, but I don’t think there’s ever been a moment where you haven’t been special.” His unwavering eye contact was unnerving. My stomach flipped. Lifting my champagne to my lips, I did what I do best –– deflected.

“See, I heard you were quite the ladies' man back in the day, and now I’m starting to believe it." I teased. “For a while, I thought Steve was losing his mind in his old age.”

Bucky chuckled, rolling his eyes as he sat back in his seat. "That was a long time ago, Charlotte. I was a different person then. It all came naturally. Now..." He shrugged, looking away. "I'm far from that guy. Everything now feels like I'm learning it all over again."

“What is it they say…it’s like riding a bike?” I mused.

“I never learned to ride a bike.” He met my eyes again.

“Me either.”

The moment hung between us, filled with unspoken understanding. Our eyes remained locked, and there was a depth to his gaze that made me feel like anything but his coworker.

"It's strange," I looked off across the resort grounds, the incredible scenery, "to be here, after everything. Pretending to be normal –– married, no less. You and I, having dinner like this. It’s a little ironic, no?”

He laughed, so much so that his eyes crinkled in the corners. “Yeah, it is pretty fucking ironic.” He lifted his half-empty champagne glass. “To irony, and to my wife.”

I raised mine and grinned as we clinked them together. “To irony…and to my husband.”

#bucky barnes #avengers #bucky fanfic #bucky fluff #winter soldier #sebastian stan #bucky barnes x oc #james bucky barnes #winter soldier fluff

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beefromanoff · 1 month

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Project Mockingbird Ch. 18

summary: Char, Nat, and Steve go on a mission to an abandoned HYDRA base and make a harrowing discovery.

pairing: Bucky Barnes x OC

author's note: all the feels. all the emotions. all the angst. I know I'm doing the MOST with character development and slow burn and this plot we're building up to, but just stick with me okay! thank you for reading, let me know what you thinkkkk!

tag list: @bangtanxberm @scott-loki-barnes @kayhi808 @charmedbysarge

(let me know if you want to be added <3)

chapter list

“Your mission briefs are in the folders.” Maria Hill gestured to the small stack of manila envelopes marked ‘classified’ in front of her before clicking a button to begin a three dimensional holographic presentation. “The objective is straightforward and this is not believed to be a combat mission. Your goal is to assess the base and retrieve any potentially valuable information pertaining to HYDRA’s resurgence and future plans. The base has been abandoned for years now, or so we believe.”

Natasha, Steve, and Charlotte sat around the sleek conference table, their attention focused on the display shimmering before them. The room was dimly lit, the lights turned down to enhance their view of the hologram.

"As you can see, the target location was heavily fortified when it was previously occupied," Maria explained, her voice calm and authoritative as she rotated the display with a wave. "We don’t know how many of those security measures remain in place, or if they’re still monitored at all. Our objective is to gather as much intel as possible without triggering anything that would tip them off that we’re on their trail."

Steve nodded in agreement, his expression serious as he surveyed the holographic map. "We'll operate with caution," he remarked, his tone measured. "We won’t draw unnecessary attention to ourselves."

“I appreciate that, Cap, but you’re not the one I want to hear that from.” She raised an eyebrow in Charlotte’s direction.

Chewing on the end of her pen, Charlotte didn’t notice at first. When she felt the eyes of the other two land on her, she pulled her eyes away from the hauntingly familiar insignia on the outside of the building in front of her. “What? Me? What would I do?”

“Crash a quinjet. Almost blow yourself up. Have a subconsciously triggered psychotic break and try to kill everyone in the vicinity.” Maria shrugged nonchalantly.

“Hey,” Charlotte held her hands up defensively. “I haven’t given you any reason to think I’d do the last one.”

“Bucky Barnes might disagree.” She folded her hands across her chest. Her tone was always so even, impossible to detect if her dry sense of humor was showing or just her pragmatic, no-nonsense work tone.

Leveling a glare at Maria that didn’t phase her one bit, Charlotte sat back in her chair and mock bowed. “You have my word, I will try my absolute darndest not to lose my mind and rain hellfire down on half of Eastern Europe.”

“Much appreciated.” The smallest smirk tugged at Maria’s mouth before she moved on.

Charlotte listened intently, her mind already racing with strategic possibilities. Jokes aside, she knew this mission was crucial, not only for gathering vital intelligence but also for proving herself as a capable member of the team. This was her first official mission as an Avenger. She knew the reasoning behind both Steve and Natasha going with her, despite it just being an intelligence mission, was multifaceted. First, there was a possibility that the base was still in undercover operation and they would be walking into a trap. Second, there could be an alarm system in place that would alert any remaining HYDRA forces of their breach and draw them into an ambush. Finally and least pleasantly, Charlotte knew that she was somewhat of a loose cannon. Although she’d proven herself with the attack on the compound, she hadn’t worked in an organized mission format before and she was going to a place with significantly traumatic ties to her past. This wasn’t the facility where she’d been held, but entering any HYDRA territory at all was bound to bring back dark memories. Having two of the most seasoned Avengers with her would be to protect her from everything waiting for them, and to protect everything else from her.

Forty five minutes later when they’d walked through the interior renderings, the terrain map, and the mission plans ad nauseum, Maria concluded the brief and excused herself.

“You ready for this?” Nat elbowed Charlotte as they stood to head towards the locker room.

Rolling her eyes, Charlotte tucked the manila folder under her arm. “How can I not be with Agent Hill’s heartwarming vote of confidence?”

Steve strode up between them as they crossed into the hallway. Putting his arm around each of their shoulders, he joked, “You’ll be just fine. You’re with two veterans here.”

“Hey, don’t make me sound old, Rogers.” Nat shoved his arm off of her shoulder and pointed a warning at him. “Let’s not forget I’m the youngest one here by many, many decades.”

“You ever think they put two of the oldest on a mission with you to keep an eye on you?” He grinned. Nat simply flipped him off and pressed the elevator button to bring them back upstairs to the residential floor.

When they reached the common room, the chaos of dinnertime greeted them. “Perfect timing, grab a plate,” Wanda called out from her position behind the stove, serving herself what looked like lasagna. They jumped in line, grabbing and filling a plate before joining the rest of the team at the table. The aroma of marinara and freshly baked bread filled the air as the team settled into their unofficial assigned seats, like every other night.

"So, Cap, did Maria give you any more gray hairs?" Sam quipped, raising an eyebrow as he shoveled a steaming forkful into his mouth and immediately winced.

Steve chuckled, shaking his head. "She tried, but I think I've still got a few years left. Charlotte, on the other hand…she took the brunt of it."

Across the table, Wanda turned her attention to Charlotte, a concerned furrow marring her brow. "How are you feeling about the mission, Charlotte? Nervous?"

Charlotte flashed a reassuring smile. "Nervous? Me? Please." She spread the pasta around on her plate, learning from Sam and letting it cool down. “I think you’ll remember that I was born without the ‘self-preservation’ part of my brain. Well,” She held up her wrist, the thin metal bracelet jangling as she wiggled it. “Born, programmed, whatever.”

“Why was Maria giving you a hard time?” Calla frowned. She’d been joining them for dinner almost every night since she and Sam had finally gone public with their relationship.

“Maria,” Nat answered for her. “Was reminding us all to keep a low profile, Charlotte in particular. She pointed out that Char hasn’t exactly done that, lately.”

“Then she proceeded to give examples,” Steve added, fighting his grin as Charlotte rolled her eyes. “It was difficult to contest.”

“I’m feeling a little victimized.” Charlotte reached for the basket in the center of the table holding the rolls.

“So did I when you tried to rip my head off.” Bucky deadpanned, tugging the bread basket just out of her reach. “Both times.”

Pausing, Charlotte met his gaze as she stood, leaning over the table towards him. “Cry me a river.” She plucked a roll out of the basket in front of him, returning to her seat. “You better hope I don’t find the HYDRA secret to brainwashing or you’ll be doing my bidding all day, every day, Barnes.”

Bucky cocked his eyebrow and ran his tongue along the inside of his lower lip. Steve, knowing all too well that the look on his best friend’s face meant nothing good, chose that moment to chime in. “Charlotte will do just fine. It’ll be an easy intelligence mission and we’ll be right back here in two days. Just try not to miss us too much.”

The rest of the meal passed in a blur of the usual good-natured jabs, tossed rolls, and laughter that felt too lighthearted for Charlotte, knowing she was walking straight into the belly of the beast she’d so narrowly escaped from in just over twelve hours. When the dishes were done, lights were flicked off, and bedroom doors were closing, Natasha caught Charlotte’s arm before she disappeared into her room.

"Charlotte, you're more than capable of handling this. Just trust your instincts and rely on your training." She gave a warm smile and a reassuring squeeze. “Try to get at least a little sleep tonight, okay?”

“Deal. Thanks, Nat.” Charlotte did her best to return Natasha’s warm smile, knowing all too well she wouldn’t be sleeping a single minute that night.

________

The locker room was quiet, the only sound the soft hum of the overhead lights as Charlotte meticulously checked her gear. She ran her fingers over the smooth surface of her suit, double-checking the straps and fastenings to ensure everything was secure. The night had been agonizingly long as sleep continued to evade her. Part of it was her nerves, the way her stomach writhed and twisted just thinking of stepping foot into a HYDRA base again. Part of it was fear of actually falling asleep and finding herself in the midst of an all too familiar nightmare, waking her in a cold sweat. Some of them got so bad she didn’t know if she’d have the balls to step onto the Quinjet if she had one.

So she just didn’t sleep.

When her alarm had finally gone off, it somehow felt like a mercy from her own thoughts in the dark doom. She was up and out the door in less than a minute. By the time Steve and Natasha joined her in the locker room, she was almost fully suited up.

As she worked, her mind raced with the same thoughts that had kept her up all night. Thoughts warning her that this was a mistake. That she’d narrowly escaped with her life and freedom and to go back into enemy territory was to make a gamble with both. Taking a deep breath, Charlotte forced herself to push aside her doubts and fears. She knew she couldn't afford to let her emotions get the best of her, not when so much was at stake. Although this was a relatively low octane mission, the implications were heavy. Gathering information on HYDRA could prevent future attacks, stall their plans for growth. Today’s mission could be the catalyst to prevent everything she’d lost sleep fearing.

With a final glance in the mirror, Charlotte straightened her posture, meeting her own somewhat bloodshot green eyes in the reflection. They looked more confident than she felt. Good. I can play a part with the best of them. Her hands absently patted down her body, feeling for the guns holstered on her hips and thighs, the belt fully stocked with tech.

“Takeoff in ten, Char.” Nat called over her shoulder before leaving her alone in the room.

Giving her a half-hearted two finger salute, Charlotte watched her disappear fully before bowing her head. She wasn’t sure quite where she stood on religion, but in that moment, she prayed to anyone who would listen to just let her make it out again. Whatever awaited them, she could handle it so long as she made it back to this place with these people. So long as she made it back home.

“Hey.” A low voice snapped her out of her stupor. She opened her eyes to see Bucky, hair tousled and messy, eyes looking as sleepless as hers, standing in the doorway. He wasn’t dressed for an early morning workout, instead wearing dark sweats and a hoodie.

“Hey,” She took a step towards him. “You look like hell.”

“Good morning to you, too.” He scowled. “I’d ask if you woke up on the wrong side of the bed, but something tells me you didn’t sleep at all.”

“What tipped you off?” Charlotte grit her teeth.

“I didn’t hear you wake up in a panic.” Bucky didn’t break her gaze.

Pausing, she shifted her weight, folding her arms across her chest. “You can’t have a nightmare if you don’t sleep.”

“You need sleep to be at your best today. If you’re foggy, if you miss something today ––”

Charlotte cut him off, holding a hand up as she moved to push past him. “Look, if you’re just here to lecture me, I’m really not in the mood for ––”

“I’m not.” Vibranium fingers gripped her waist just above her belt. Setting his jaw, he met her eyes again. “I just wanted to say…just be careful.” A moment of quiet passed between them. “You will be okay. You’re out, and you’re never going to be trapped again.”

From the ever-so-slight break in his voice, Charlotte knew he was talking to himself just as much as he was to her. She also knew it couldn’t have been easy to drag himself out of bed at the ass crack of done to come get touchy feely. It wasn’t lost on her.

“Thank you, Bucky.” Her words came out breathless. Seeming to realize his hand was still on her waist, Bucky let go. Charlotte caught his hand in her own and gave it a squeeze as she offered a faint smile. “I’ll see you in two days.”

“See you in two days.”

________

As the Quinjet sliced through the dark skies en route to Eastern Europe, the atmosphere among the trio was surprisingly light. The hum of the engines provided a steady backdrop to their low conversations, the cabin dimly lit. The sun had finally come up, driving away some of the ominous thoughts of the night along with it. Charlotte was again absently checking her gear when Natasha, sitting across from her, leaned back in her chair with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“So, Char, are we gonna talk about when you and Barnes disappeared in New York?” Natasha’s voice was teasing, her smile knowing.

Charlotte rolled her eyes, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. “Oh, so first you want to cockblock, and then you want to gossip.”

Steve, looking over his shoulder from where he was maneuvering the jet, raised his eyebrows. “I’m sorry, was there a need for a cockblock?”

“I guess we’ll never know.” Charlotte shrugged.

“Oh, come on!” Nat nudged her chair with a boot. “First it gets all tense and awkward during the game, then you disappear to ‘get another drink’,” She made air quotes with her fingers. “After which, Barnes mysteriously also needs a refill. You’re gone a few minutes, you both come back flushed with a disappointing lack of messy hair or undone buttons.”

Charlotte rolled her eyes, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. "Well, if we’re calling out cockblockers, Sam was the one who interrupted in the first place.”.

Steve, now so invested he’d switched the Quinjet to autopilot, turned around in his seat.. "Sam interrupted what, exactly?"

"I mean," Charlotte flushed with a laugh. "I don’t know. Bucky was about to kiss me, I guess—"

Natasha interrupted, her voice triumphant. "Ha! I told you, Rogers! Pay up. Fifty bucks."

Steve chuckled, holding his hands up in defeat. "Alright, alright. You win."

Curiosity gleamed in Natasha's eyes as she turned her attention back to Charlotte. "So, that’s a far cry from your usual interactions. How do you feel about it?"

Charlotte shrugged nonchalantly, waving them off. "I don’t know, we were both pretty drunk."

Natasha and Steve exchanged a knowing glance before Natasha spoke up again, her tone more serious. "Come on, Charlotte. We know there's something between you and Barnes. You two wouldn't be at each other's throats as much as you are if there wasn't something deeper there."

Steve nodded in agreement. "Nat's right. No one can deny the tension whenever you're in the same room. Have you ever noticed how there’s always someone ready to jump between you two?”

“Yeah, we thought it was to keep you two from tearing each other apart, but maybe it’s actually to keep from tearing each others’ clothes off.” Nat winked, causing Steve to shake his head.

“Fuck…off…” Charlotte laughed, swatting at Nat’s feet, propped up on her arm rest.

“Ladies, please.” Steve waved a hand between them, mock breaking up the spat. “Listen, for what it’s worth, and don’t tell him I said this…Bucky wasn’t that drunk last weekend.”

Charlotte sighed, her playful demeanor fading as she grew more introspective. "It's just... confusing, you know? I don't even know where to begin."

Natasha leaned forward. "Well, for starters, Barnes is not the easiest to read."

“That’s for damn sure.”

Steve nodded in agreement. "But don't underestimate him. Bucky's a good man, Char. He just needs someone who's willing to get past the walls he's built around himself."

Looking down at her hands, Charlotte shook her head before meeting Natasha’s gaze. “Honestly, I don’t know what’s going on with him. Us. It’s like... one moment, we’re just roommates, teammates –– whatever. Then, we’re talking at two in the morning because we both had nightmares and we’re bonding over this shared trauma bullshit. Then he’s jumping my ass like he hates me. Then we’re almost crossing a line we’ve never even approached, and the next, it’s like we’re right back to being roommates.”

Natasha’s expression softened. “It’s tough with Bucky. He’s been through a lot, and sometimes, he struggles with letting people in. Even those he cares about deeply. Trust me, if he didn’t care, he wouldn’t get so…aggressive.”

Steve nodded, his face serious now. “Nat’s right. Bucky does care about you, Charlotte. Maybe he’s just trying to protect you — and himself — from potential pain. I mean, if he doesn’t know where you stand then he’s not likely to put himself out there at all.”

Charlotte listened, her brow furrowing. “I get that, I really do. But it’s just so frustrating feeling like I’m constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop. How am I supposed to even figure out how I feel when it’s like we have four different relationships happening at once?”

“Well,” Steve shrugged. “Which relationship do you want to stick?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, Rogers.” Charlotte narrowed her eyes. “Why don’t you ask your bestie and report back to me, hm?”

“Buck and I don’t really talk about things like this.” He chuckled.

“What do you talk about? Medicare? Viagra?”

“Not viagra.” Nat pretended to check her nails, this time sending Steve’s face into a full blush as he turned back around to take the controls. When his back was fully turned, she held her hands up, miming a significant length between them as she winked.

“Oh, gag me,” Charlotte stood up from her chair and stalked towards the back of the jet.

“Don’t ask me, ask Barnes!” Nat called after her disappearing figure.

Flipping her off over her shoulder, Charlotte was thankful Nat couldn’t see her grin.

________

The icy winds howled outside the decrepit structure that once served as a HYDRA base, nestled deep in the forests of some country Charlotte had never even heard of. Its walls, blanketed by a thick layer of snow, muffled the sounds of the harsh environment outside. The Quinjet was stashed just outside the treeline, cloaked in stealth mode.

Steve, Natasha, and Charlotte approached the entrance with practiced silence, their movements precise. They were thankful for the quickly falling snow covering their tracks as they walked, finally reaching the entrance. The door was ajar, hanging crooked on the lower two hinges, swinging gently in the frigid breeze. Aside from the whistling wind, the creaking of the door was the only sound across the eerily silent clearing. Nat shot Charlotte a sidelong look, one final check to make sure she was okay before they crossed the threshold. Nodding, Charlotte fell into line behind Steve as they stepped out of the elements and into the dark building. A thick layer of dust swirled up from the ground as their boots disturbed it.

“Looks like no one’s been here for years,” Steve whispered, his shield ready as he peeked inside the shadowed hallway. “But stay sharp. We don’t know what’s left behind.”

Natasha nodded, pulling out her compact field device. “Charlotte, you’re with me. We need to find the main server room. There’s a good chance they left data behind, not expecting anyone to come back to this hellhole.”

Charlotte nodded, ignoring the way her stomach turned as she followed Natasha, her hands hovering above the pistols holstered on her hips. This building was hundreds of miles from where she’d been kept, but the interior similarities were uncanny. From the smell of gunpowder and antiseptic to the haunting emblem stamped on every door, the only difference was the lack of lowlife psychopaths crawling the place. The hallway was lined with old propaganda posters, the edges curled and the faces faded. Every step they took kicked up a new symphony of dust, dancing in the beams of their flashlights. She fought to stay present, stay in the headspace of an Avenger on a mission rather than a terrified girl in way over her head. Pretend. Play a part. Be like Natasha. Her breathing evened out as she forced herself to observe Nat, to catalog her every move. The slight bend to her knees as she crept forward, the way her head swiveled from side to side as she cleared each room, even her heart rate, faintly perceptible through her armor. As Charlotte tailored her own movements to those of Natasha, she felt her own heart rate slow. Mimic. Emulate. That’s what she was good at. That’s what would get her through this.

Reaching the server room, the door creaked as they pushed it open. Charlotte tried not to cringe at the loud noise, the fear that it would awaken some long dormant evil in this place. Inside the room, rows of ancient computers and servers hummed with a surprising flicker of life, the green lights blinking in the semi-darkness.

“Looks like we’re in luck, electricity hasn’t been cut off here,” Natasha murmured, setting up her device to interface with the HYDRA technology. “Char, keep an eye on the door. I need a few minutes here.”

Charlotte positioned herself by the doorway, her senses heightened. The silence was oppressive, filled only by the distant whir of outdated machinery and Natasha’s steady breathing as she worked.

Minutes stretched into an eternity. Charlotte’s thoughts drifted to Bucky, to both of their sleepless nights. She wondered if he’d been on missions that took him back into the belly of the beast, if he’d been as terrified as she was.

A soft beep from Natasha’s device cut through the silence. “Got something,” Natasha announced, her voice a mix of relief and urgency. “There are references to a new base of operations, coordinates embedded in an encrypted file. I’m downloading it now.”

“Good work, Nat,” Steve’s voice crackled over the comms, ever vigilant. “Wrap it up. I don’t like how exposed we are here.”

As Natasha hurriedly collected the last pieces of data, Charlotte felt a shiver that wasn’t from the cold. It was the realization that this mission, seemingly quiet, was just the precursor to something much larger. They were on the brink of uncovering a resurgence that could threaten their fragile peace. She’d told herself she just had to get through this mission, to quell her fears for today, and then she could breathe. This data…the trail to a new base, the source of the attack…this was far from over. A chill ran down Charlotte’s spine and she prayed Natasha didn’t notice.

With the data secured, they retraced their steps, making their way back towards where Steve was positioned at the entrance. As they emerged into the final hallway, the biting cold seeped through the broken door, washing over them with a sobering chill.

“Let’s head back,” Steve said, his voice resolute. “Good work you two. We need to get this to SHIELD.”

With the data secured and the team poised to leave, a sudden, inexplicable intuition halted Charlotte. "Wait," she said abruptly, her voice echoing slightly in the now silent corridor.

Steve turned, his brow furrowed in concern. "Charlotte, we need to move. It's risky to linger."

"I know, but... I remember something," she insisted, her voice threaded with uncertainty. Her mind was flickering with disjointed memories, not her own but somehow familiar—whispers of conversations overheard from her past.

Natasha looked concerned. "What is it?"

"There’s... a basement. Hidden. I'm sure of it. They mentioned it once, back when I was being briefed on potential locations to track Buck––the Winter Soldier to. They thought he might try to target the smaller bases when he got free. They were especially concerned with beefing up security for this one…this place was important, not just a random outpost."

Steve's tactical mind battled with his protective instincts. "We don’t have much time," he warned, but his gaze softened. "Make it quick."

Nodding, Charlotte led them down a forgotten hallway, her eyes scanning for any sign of a concealed entrance. Her hand brushed against the wall, and she felt a subtle, almost imperceptible seam. Pressing against it, a portion of the wall gave way, revealing a narrow stairwell spiraling down into darkness. Both of them covered their mouth with their arms, avoiding the cloud of dust and debris that flooded the air.

"Good call," Natasha murmured, lighting the path with her flashlight as they descended.

The air grew colder as they reached the basement, a small, shadow-filled room that reeked of secrets long buried. Along one wall, files and documents were preserved in sealed cabinets. Natasha quickly began sifting through them, her hands skilled and efficient. Charlotte did the same across the room, making quick work of the folders there.

Charlotte’s heart thudded painfully as she pulled out a dust-covered file marked with a stark, black HYDRA stamp and the words "Winter Soldier Projekt."

Breath catching in her throat, Charlotte opened the dusty file with trembling fingers. She skimmed for only a few seconds before slamming it closed, heart pounding. The contents––the little she saw–– were chilling. On the first page alone, there was a detailed log of the original experiments conducted on Bucky during World War II, complete with photographs and medical reports. Considering the folder was at least two fingers thick, the thought of what else was contained in those pages made her want to vomit. She turned her attention back to the cabinet and found another two folders marked with the same project name.

“Find anything?” Nat crossed the room before her eyes landed on the folders in Charlotte’s hand. "Oh, shit…this...this could be the parts of his past he's still trying to piece together."

Charlotte’s expression was grim. "He deserves to see this. Whether or not he reads it is up to him.”

Silently nodding, Natasha grabbed a stack of files she’d deemed important enough to take and turned for the door, Charlotte right on her heels. With the additional files secured, the gravity of their discovery pressing down on them, they ascended back to the ground level. The mission had been a success, but had unearthed more than they had bargained for, casting a shadow that would follow them back home.

"Let's get out of here." Steve said again, his voice firmer this time, an edge underlying his calm as he read the expressions on both women’s faces.

As they emerged into the gray, sunless day, the German landscape bleak and unwelcoming around them, Charlotte felt a mix of triumph and trepidation. They had retrieved crucial information, hadn’t been intercepted or ambushed, and yet…this felt like they’d taken a massive blow. The emotional implications, especially for Bucky, loomed large—her heart ached for him and the pain he’d face when they got back.

They quickly and quietly ascended the ramp into the Quinjet, taking their seats as Steve took them out of enemy territory. When they were safely soaring above the clouds, Natasha motioned for him to let her take over. “Take a look at what Charlotte found.” Her grim voice caught his attention.

Steve shifted in his seat, the low hum of the Quinjet the only noise as he turned and faced where Charlotte was seated. He noticed the tight set of Natasha’s jaw, the unusual tension in her shoulders. Charlotte sat looking equally somber, eyes glassy, a thick file clasped tightly in her hands. The atmosphere was thick with a kind of urgency that made his stomach tighten.

"Steve, it’s about Buckyt," Charlotte said quietly as she handed him the file. Her eyes were shadowed, suggesting she’d already seen the horrors it contained.

Taking the file, Steve felt the weight of it, not just in physical terms but in what it represented. He opened it slowly, almost hesitantly, the pages filled with dense text and black-and-white photographs that made his stomach convulse. As his eyes scanned the documents, detailing operations and experiments carried out during the war, his expression darkened.

He paused on a photograph, a stark, haunting image of Bucky strapped to a chair, machinery and wires surrounding him, protruding from everywhere imaginable. Bucky hadn’t even liked the doctor when they were kids, so this…Steve’s hands trembled slightly, the image hitting far too close to home, a vivid reminder of his failure to protect his friend when he needed him the most.

Natasha watched him closely out of the corner of her eyes, her voice softening. “We had no idea about some of these details. The depth of what they did—”

“It’s monstrous,” Steve interrupted, his voice rough with emotion. He continued flipping through the file, each page turn revealing another layer of the nightmare Bucky had endured. Reports of prolonged exposure to mind-altering techniques, physical endurance tests, and surgical manipulations filled the pages.

Closing the file abruptly, Steve looked up, his eyes clouded with pain and anger. “We shouldn’t be reading this. Not before he does…I mean, fuck,” His uncharacteristic swear jarred Nat and Charlotte. “I mean, do we even show him this? Or does this just set him back? He’s worked so hard, he’s finally been getting past some of the nightmares…I just––”

Charlotte reached out, her hand briefly touching his arm in a gesture of support. “It will be hard. Really fucking hard. I…I would want to know, though.”

Steve nodded slowly, the resolve setting into his features. “We’ll leave it up to him, give him a choice. We owe him that much.” He let out a slow breath as he put the files into an empty seat next to Charlotte.

As the Quinjet cut through the clouds, the cabin was filled with a tense silence, broken occasionally by the soft clacking of buttons and the murmur of the aircraft's systems. Charlotte sat near the communications array, her fingers absentmindedly tapping against the metal surface, her mind racing with the weight of the files just a foot away from her. The atmosphere of the ride home was a far cry from the ride there, laughter and jokes felt impossible at the moment. They hadn’t even called back for the mission report, putting it off as long as possible as they debated whether or not to submit the files to SHIELD’s official records, where they’d be available to everyone in the organization. When they could ignore the comm requests no longer, Steve finally gave in.

"Patch through to Maria Hill," Steve instructed Charlotte, his voice steady but carrying an undercurrent of urgency.

Charlotte nodded and quickly set the frequencies. A moment later, Maria's voice filled the cabin, clear and commanding. "Report, team. How did the mission go?"

"We secured the intel we were after," Natasha replied, glancing at Charlotte with a hint of concern. "But there's something else, Maria. It's about Bucky—files from his time with HYDRA during the war. They were hidden in a basement, in a concealed wing of the base. Charlotte located it. These files are…we’d like these to be handled with the utmost discretion."

There was a brief pause. "Understood," Maria responded, her tone turning somber. "Standard protocol dictates a full briefing with all operatives. However, I'm aware of the sensitivity of this information regarding Sergeant Barnes."

Charlotte’s voice was quiet but firm as she joined in. "Maria, I think it might be best if I briefed him privately first. This is personal and could be quite a shock. He trusts me, and it might be easier for him to process this with someone he's close to. Of all of us…" She glanced at Steve, praying she wasn’t stepping on his toes. “I understand this. What this will be like. I would want to be able to process it privately, maintain some dignity.”

There was another pause, longer this time. "I understand the delicacy of the situation," Maria finally said. "You have the go-ahead, Rossi. Brief Barnes privately. Depending on his reaction and the relevance of the information, we can decide how to proceed with the rest of the team. You have official clearance to classify the information until then."

A collective breath was let out across the cabin.

"Thank you, Maria," Charlotte said, her relief palpable even through the static of the comms.

“Stay in stealth mode, we’ll see you when you get back. Good work, team.” Maria signed off, all business as usual.

Steve sat back, concern etched on his face. "You okay with this, Charlotte? It’s a heavy burden and Bucky doesn’t have a history of reacting…well to difficult information.”

She took a deep breath, leaning forward and bracing her elbows on her knees. "It needs to be me. There’s a level of…shame that comes with finding out what was done to you. What you couldn’t stop. As much as he loves you, both of you, it will be harder to hear from you. Me? I’m already a walking reminder of his past. I understand it better than anyone. If he gets mad, I can take it, but…it needs to be me.”

Steve nodded, giving her a faintly reassuring smile as he turned back to the control panel.

For the remaining hours of the flight, the Quinjet soared through the sky, carrying its crew and their heavy cargo of secrets back home, each member lost in their own thoughts about the implications of their findings.

________

It was early evening by the time they touched back down at the compound.

Steve and Natasha had given Charlotte reassuring nods as they left her alone in the locker room, holding the files and steeling herself for the hardest conversation of her life. Deciding that waiting would only make it worse, she set off to find Bucky without even changing out of her uniform.

The final rays of sun streamed through the windows of the training room cast long shadows as Charlotte entered. The sound of punching and the rhythmic thud of a heavy bag swinging greeted her, slightly echoing in the large space. Bucky, his hair clinging to his forehead with sweat, was relentlessly driving his fists into the bag. He paused, breathing heavily, as he noticed Charlotte standing in the doorway.

"Hey, you’re back,” he greeted, a small smile fleeting across his lips. “Glad to see you made it out and didn’t shit the bed,” Noticing the seriousness of her expression and the file clutched in her hands, he grabbed a towel, wiping his face as he walked over to her. "What’s wrong?"

“Hey, Buck.” Charlotte shifted, the file almost feeling heavier in her grasp. "It’s something we found at the base. It’s about... It’s about you. From during the war." She offered it out but he only stared at it.

Bucky's demeanor shifted as he read the label, the lines of his face hardening. "Who else has seen it?"

"Nobody, Bucky. I found it, and I’ve kept it safe. Only glanced through it enough to know it’s important, and personal." She met his gaze firmly, conveying her sincerity. "Even Steve didn’t feel right reading it. It’s been with me since I found it."

He nodded slowly, his eyes dropping to the file then back to her. "And if I decide I don’t want to know?"

"That’s completely up to you," Charlotte reassured him softly. "We’ve classified it from SHIELD. This is yours, Bucky. Only yours. You don’t ever have to read it if you don’t want to."

Bucky took a deep breath, the internal struggle evident in his eyes. After a long moment, he reached out and took the file from her. "Will you... stay?"

"Of course," she replied without hesitation, her voice gentle, albeit a little breathless from her own nerves.

They moved to a corner of the room where a small bench sat. Bucky took a seat, Charlotte settling beside him, close enough for support, yet giving him space to breathe. He opened the file slowly, his eyes scanning the first page, the photos paperclipped in. As he flipped through, his body tensed with each page turned, the horrors of his past laid bare in black and white. She knew in her bones that the glassy look in his eye meant he was reliving hell right in front of her.

Charlotte watched him, her heart aching with each crease that formed on his brow, each slight twitch of his jaw. It wasn’t difficult to avert her eyes from the file, knowing that the information contained there was not only deeply personal to Bucky, but highly likely to fuel her own nightmares. When he finally closed the file somewhere around the halfway mark, his eyes were glassy, his face pale. His body was rigid, as if bracing against a storm. Abruptly, he stood up, the file slipping from his hands and fluttering to the floor, papers scattering across the floor. His breath came in short, sharp gasps, and then he crumpled in front of a trash can in the corner, his body convulsing as he vomited violently.

Instantly, Charlotte dropped to her knees by his side, her hands tenderly holding back his hair, rubbing absently up his back. She stayed close, unafraid, as he shuddered with the force of his reaction.

When the waves of nausea finally subsided, Bucky shifted, leaning his back against the cool metal of the wall. Charlotte turned beside him, her hands trailing across his shoulders, tugging him towards her. Bucky leaned in, his body trembling as silent tears began to stream down his face. With a gentle but firm touch, she pulled him closer, letting his head rest against her chest. His arms wrapped around her waist as his shaking intensified.

Charlotte held him tightly, her hand soothingly stroking his back, creating a small sanctuary against the rest of the world. They remained there on the floor, the only sounds in the room being Bucky’s soft cries and the muffled sounds of the outside world going on as usual, unaware of the pain only a wall away. She didn’t even feel the tightness in her muscles from sitting in one place for so long, didn’t feel the hard floor beneath her. All Charlotte felt was the warmth from Bucky, the damp tears soaking into her skin beneath her suit, the shaking of his body against her.

She lost track of how long they sat there. Lost track of her hunger and time and the rest of the world. As far as she was concerned, her world was contained within the four walls of this room. There wasn’t a force on Earth that could take her out of it.

#bucky barnes x oc #avengers #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes #bucky fluff #winter soldier #bucky fanfic #sebastian stan #winter soldier fluff

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beefromanoff · 1 month

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Project Mockingbird Ch. 17

summary: back to life as usual after New York, some insight into Charlotte's mind.

pairing: Bucky Barnes x OC

author's note: hi guys! this chapter is shorter than normal but I really wanted to get something out since it's been a minute! I've been on vacation so I've been writing here and there but nothing ready to put out yet. I promise there will be a few chapters coming VERY soon with more action! thanks for reading, as always!

tag list: @bangtanxberm @scott-loki-barnes @kayhi808 @charmedbysarge

(let me know if you want to be added <3)

chapter list

As the early morning sunlight bathed the Avengers' compound in a warm glow, Charlotte stood outside Bucky's room, gathering her courage. She had been wrestling the idea for nearly an hour, but now that she was here, uncertainty gnawed at her. It was an unholy hour of the morning, the sun just barely beginning to peek out over the horizon. She was clad head to toe in her black athletic wear, tennis shoes shifting on the floor as she debated making a run for the elevator.

Don’t be stupid, it isn’t that big of a deal. If you don’t deal with it now, it’ll just be weird later.

With a determined exhale, she knocked on Bucky's door, the sound echoing through the quiet common room. After a brief pause, the door swung open, revealing Bucky standing on the other side, pulling a gray hoodie the rest of the way down over his abdomen. The smell of black coffee wafted out of his room.

"Morning," he greeted her with a small smile, raising an eyebrow inquisitively.

"Hey," Charlotte replied, trying to sound nonchalant. "Figured I’d get an early start today and I know you usually do, too. Might as well run together?”

Bucky's lips twitched in amusement, and he stepped back to let her in. The bed was already made and she had a hunch he’d been up for longer than he’d admit. "Sure, why not? I could use the exercise."

Charlotte couldn't resist a teasing grin. "Yeah, Sarge, you've really been letting yourself go," she quipped, her eyes flicking playfully over his chiseled frame for a moment longer than strictly necessary.

Bucky chuckled, shaking his head as he finished lacing up his shoes. "Yeah, yeah. Let's go, then."

They made their way out of the compound and onto the trail that wound around the nearby lake, the crisp morning air doing a better job of waking them up than coffee ever did. Neither of them spoke much, but to Charlotte’s relief, it was a comfortable silence rather than a tense one. Both sets of eyes were locked on the swell of color across the lake as the sun broke from the horizon. After some light stretching, more of a formality for super soldiers anyways, they began to run. As they fell into step beside each other, any tension that had lingered between them dissipated, replaced by the easy camaraderie that had become second nature over the past months.

“You sure you can keep up, old man?” Charlotte grinned over her shoulder.

Bucky shot her a mock glare, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "Please. I could outrun you blindfolded and carrying an extra fifty pounds." He lifted his left arm out of his stride and waggled his fingers at her. “Which I am.”

Charlotte rolled her eyes, laughing. “Well you’re in luck, because I forgot to bring my blindfold."

“Damn.” He shook his head, loose hair falling with the motion and the wind blowing past him.

The rest of their run passed in a blur of lighthearted banter, normalcy flooding what had been a big question mark after this past weekend in New York. What happened, or almost happened, hadn’t been discussed by either of them.

______

“Eat shit, Rogers.” Tony threw his hands up as Steve sailed a dart right into the bullseye -- again.

“Nobody likes a sore loser, Stark.” Steve grinned good-naturedly and held a bottle out to Tony. “Drink up.”

My stomach hurt from laughing (and eating) way too much, but I didn’t regret either. I was certain that my head would join in the pounding when I woke up the next morning. Rather, when I woke up later today, considering the clock read just past 1am. Pepper had long since gone to bed, and shortly after went Sam and Calla. Peter had passed out on the sectional, narrowly avoiding having something profane drawn on him by Steve’s well-timed challenge of darts. Natasha stood confidently to the side, waiting to challenge whoever the winner was, clearly Captain America himself. I held onto my glass with no intention of finishing the champagne inside of it. I’d gotten myself a refill over an hour ago and only taken one sip.

Maybe because the molten lava in my chest threatened to burn me alive if I let any more of my judgment fall away. Bucky sat across from Wanda and I, one hand holding a glass of water and the other draped across the back of the couch. His face had a grin plastered on it as he watched the game unfold, but his eyes were just as dazed and unseeing as mine felt. After Sam had snapped us out of…whatever that was, we’d both retreated back into the party. Besides the occasional white-hot bits of eye contact across the chaos, no evidence of our moment remained. I couldn’t decide if I was grateful or resentful of Sam for stopping us, whether he knew what he was doing or not. Based on our history, he might have thought he was breaking up a potential bar fight. I’ll give him that much.

After watching Natasha wipe the floor with Steve, who was only slightly more gracious in defeat than Tony, Wanda stood and declared that she was going to bed. A murmur of agreement went around the room, the rest of us slowly succumbing to exhaustion from the day and the alcohol.

“Leave it all, my cleaning staff is paid very handsomely,” Tony waved his hand as he stumbled towards the elevator. “Goodnight you vagrants, the pleasure is all yours.”

“Char, you coming?” Wanda looked back at me as she strode towards the doors on the far side of the vast living room.

“I’ll be a few minutes, I’m gonna find some Tylenol.” I smiled warmly and returned her blown kiss as she nodded. Liar. While I could probably have benefited from some, finding medication wasn’t my priority. I turned back to the living room where Steve had slowly roused Peter and was all but carrying him to an empty room. Bucky was looking on, unsure if he should help or laugh. As Steve retreated further from us, Bucky turned and locked eyes with me. The sudden quiet and lack of distractions felt like it was crushing my chest as I stared into his blue eyes. He was only ten feet away from me, which somehow felt too far and terrifyingly too close all at once. Before I could move, speak, or think, Natasha’s hand stuck out in front of me.

“Here you go. I assume it’s a double dose for you like the other two.” She opened her fist to reveal a handful of small, white pills. In the other, she offered me a glass of water. “Drink up. It’ll help for tomorrow.”

I nodded and obliged her, swallowing the handful of pills and washing it down with the rest of the glass as I tried not to will her to leave the room.

“Need any, Barnes?”

“No.” He shook his head. “I quit drinking about an hour ago.” His eyes flicked back to me.

“Smarter than you look.” Nat winked. “‘Night, Buck. Come on, I’ll show you the best room left.” She looped her arm through mine and led me towards the dark half of the room everyone had disappeared to. I let her pull me away, but my gaze lingered behind me.

“G’night Sarge,” I willed myself to sound normal but heard the breathlessness in my own voice.

“Goodnight Charlotte.”

As we got to the threshold of my room for the night, Nat squeezed my arm. “Listen, you can do what you want with who you want. I won’t stop you. But not many good things have come out of drunken late nights at this tower. Sleep on it, and if you feel the same way tomorrow, I’ll buy Barnes a box of condoms myself.”

“Nat!” I hissed, my cheeks warming as I scanned the room for any sign of him. His door was already closed, the faintest sound of a shower running coming from behind it.

“Sweet dreams. Thank me later.” She winked and disappeared behind the door next to me, leaving me alone in the massive, suddenly oppressively quiet, space.

______

Later that evening, the normal routine commenced. Sam had taken advantage of the beautiful spring weather and grilled burgers for everyone, claiming his time to shine was during barbeque season. They’d eaten on the balcony and watched the sun sink down. It was a normal day of training, but it felt longer to everyone after being gone for the weekend.

Charlotte rolled out her neck as she stood at the sink, stiff from all the martial arts work she’d done with Natasha earlier that day. “Next?” She reached out a hand, Wanda giving her another stack of dirty dishes.

"Hey, careful with that plate, Char," Natasha teased, a smirk playing on her lips. "We don't want to break any more of the fancy dinnerware. I think SHIELD takes it out of our paychecks."

Charlotte rolled her eyes, but couldn't suppress a grin. "Hey, if SHIELD is so great at engineering, why aren’t the plates superhuman-proof," she retorted, earning a chuckle from Wanda. She’d broken a dish during her first rotation on clean up duty, not realizing how slippery the soap made them. Even though their teasing was good-natured, part of it still made Charlotte shrink inside. She hadn’t wanted to admit the reason she didn’t know anh better was because she’d never actually done dishes before. It was yet another small, seemingly insignificant task that had just never been necessary. She’d either been stealing food, eating on the cruise ship she sailed to the United States, eating takeout, or most recently, living off of hotel room service in Las Vegas. She’d never even owned her own set of dishes. She didn’t fear judgment from any of them, it was more of her own insecurities that she preferred to keep hidden. Everyone treated her so normally, had been so accepting that she hardly felt out of place at all. Calling attention to everything she didn’t know or hadn’t done seemed counterintuitive.

As they finished tidying up, the group reconvened in the living area, settling in for a movie night. Peter took charge of selecting the film, much to the amusement of the rest of the team.

"What's it gonna be this time, kid? Another one of your vintage classics?" Sam quipped, earning a mock offended look from Peter.

"Hey, my taste in movies is impeccable, thank you very much," Peter shot back, scrolling through the extensive list of options on the large screen. A collective ‘no’ came from the group when he passed the Star Wars saga yet again. They settled on an action-romance movie that Charlotte had never heard of, but if it fit the criteria of both Wanda and Peter, she supposed it couldn’t be half bad.

The movie was good. As she watched the action sequences, Charlotte found her mind whirring away, cataloging their fighting styles and the acrobatics of the actors. Frowning, she realized how impractical and unrealistic it all was. She shook her head, willing herself to forget anything she’d just witnessed, lest it come back to bite her in the ass in a training session.

Shoddy fight scenes aside, it was a good movie. The two lead actors were beautiful, looking like a match made in heaven. About halfway into the movie, the tension between them finally unfolded in a steamy makeout with lingering camera shots that left little to the imagination. Sam jokingly covered Peter’s eyes, lightening the mood as the room laughed.

However, as the characters onscreen stripped off their clothes, Charlotte's discomfort began to intensify. She watched with a mixture of fascination and trepidation as the scene unfolded, her heart rate quickening with each passing moment.

When the characters moved to the bedroom, the camera again lingering on their wandering hands and heavy breathing and the movement of their bodies, Charlotte felt a surge of insecurity wash over her. She couldn't help but compare herself to the characters onscreen, feeling acutely aware of her own lack of experience. It hadn’t bothered her this much in a while. She recalled the first time she’d watched a salacious scene, sitting in her bed in Las Vegas, and felt herself blush despite being alone. She’d realized she was older than almost everyone she’d ever met and somehow less experienced. The only thing that brought her comfort was the fact that she had no prospects and, more importantly, no interest in being physically intimate with anyone.

But now…

She couldn't shake the nagging feeling that she was somehow inadequate, especially when she recalled Steve's jokes about Bucky's past exploits as a ladies' man. He had been older when he was captured by HYDRA, already a man. She’d been so young, basically having grown up in the facility. Although she was grown now, there were certain experiences she just never felt comfortable having. Shame crept up her cheeks as she watched the female onscreen moan, looking ethereal and beautiful and so confident.

Sensing her discomfort, Natasha cast a concerned glance in her direction. "You okay, Char?" she asked softly, her voice barely audible over the soundtrack of the movie.

Charlotte hesitated for a moment, her mind racing with a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. Finally, she nodded, offering Natasha a forced smile. "Yeah, I'm fine," she replied, her voice tinged with uncertainty.

After the credits rolled and the rest of the team began to disperse to their rooms, Natasha lingered behind, her gaze fixed on Charlotte as she grabbed water from the fridge.

"Hey, you seemed a little off during the movie," Natasha remarked gently, her voice soft and reassuring. "Is everything okay?"

Charlotte hesitated for a moment, grappling with her embarrassment before finally deciding to confide in her friend. "Yeah, I guess I was feeling a bit... out of my depth," she admitted.

Natasha's brows furrowed as she asked gently, “How so?”

Charlotte hesitated for a moment, her gaze flickering to the TV screen where the romantic scene played out before returning to Natasha. "It's just..." she trailed off, her cheeks flushing faintly as she gestured vaguely at the screen. "I just don't have much experience with... that," she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. Her normal bravado and attitude was nowhere to be found, instead seeming like the scared little girl she still felt like on the inside more than she’d like to admit.

Natasha's expression softened. "It's okay, Charlotte," she reassured her, her tone gentle and reassuring. "Everyone has their own journey, their own pace. You’ve been in survival mode, on the run for years. I can’t imagine this was top priority for you."

“No,” Charlotte admitted, chuckling. “No, not really.”

“I’ve been there. Believe me, I’ve had long stretches where I was only thinking about how to stay alive. This,” She waved at the screen. “Is something you only want when you’re safe and cared for and have the luxury of thinking about. You haven’t had that before.”

Charlotte nodded, her mind racing with a flood of conflicting emotions. "But now…I do.” She ran a hand through her dark hair. “Except…I have no idea what the fuck to do.”

“Well, it does come pretty naturally.” Natasha grinned, elbowing her. When Charlotte’s mask of concern didn’t break, she softened again. “Hey. Look at me.” She gripped her friend’s arms and looked her straight in the eye. “If you want me to lay it all out for you, step by step, you know I will. No judgment. If you want to learn it on your own, there’s a few websites I can send you to…although they have questionably accurate depictions of…everything. Just tell me how I can help you and I will.”

“This is stupid, I know,” Charlotte squeezed her eyes shut and pinched the bridge of her nose.

“It’s not stupid, Char.” Nat’s voice was quiet. “We’ve all been robbed of some pretty big things. It’s dehumanizing. The last thing I ever want is for you to continue to feel crippled by the things that were taken from you.”

"Thanks, Nat," she murmured gratefully, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "I needed to hear that."

As Natasha turned to leave, a thoughtful expression crossed her features. "Oh, and one more thing," she added, casting a meaningful glance in Charlotte's direction. "If it helps, Barnes hasn't exactly been a ladies' man since he got back, either." She winked. “Maybe you can practice together.”

Charlotte's eyes widened in surprise, a flush creeping into her cheeks at Natasha's words. "You had to ruin it," she called, throwing the water bottle at her.

Easily dodging it, Nat grinned as she walked backwards toward her room. “Did I?”

#bucky barnes x oc #bucky fanfic #avengers #bucky fluff #james bucky barnes #winter soldier #sebastian stan #bucky barnes #winter soldier fluff

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beefromanoff · 2 months

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Project Mockingbird Ch. 16

summary: Charlotte's press conference, dinner party at the Avengers' Tower, Asguardian mead. what else needs to be said?

pairing: Bucky Barnes x OC

author's note: a longer chapter this time! let me know what you think! thanks for reading! the slow burn is BURNING baby!

tag list: @bangtanxberm @scott-loki-barnes @kayhi808 @charmedbysarge

(let me know if you want to be added <3)

chapter list

_______________________________________

As the sleek Quinjet sliced through the clouds en route to New York, the mood among The Avengers was surprisingly light. With Charlotte’s press conference looming ahead, there was a ripple of nerves from those who preferred to remain out of the public eye, balanced out by those who were more on the veteran end. Several days of preparation had led them to this mid-morning flight, where the team had decided to make a weekend of it. With their headquarters being upstate at the compound, there wasn’t much need for the team to be at the Tower in the city. Tony spent the most time there of anyone, residing there with Pepper most of his days. His research and development space was ten times the size of the lab at the compound, spanning nearly twelve floors and responsible for producing all the newest tech to outfit the team. Other than that, it was used as a base for any Avengers who had business in the city, or just wanted to get away. There were two large residential floors with around twelve bedrooms each. Some of the more seasoned members, like Steve and Natasha, had their own personalized rooms from years of visiting. Others just chose a guest room when they came to visit. Peter was the only other one who spent considerable time there, with the Tower being only blocks away from where he took college classes during the year.

The interior of the Quinjet was full, with people occupying nearly every sitting area. Nat and Steve sat at the front, piloting the ship. Calla sat behind them, eyes glued to her laptop, chatting to Bruce on the phone pressed between her cheek and shoulder. Sam and Peter sat across from Wanda, Charlotte, and Bucky in the open back galley. Wanda had made a game of tossing grapes into the air for Sam to attempt to catch in his mouth, but he was continually derailed by Peter snatching them away at the last second with a well-timed web.

“Aw, come on man. That’s not cool.” Sam rubbed his jaw, having just bit down on nothing. “You better sleep with one eye open, kid.”

Charlotte leaned back in her seat, watching the playful exchange between Sam, Peter, and Wanda with a small smile. She glanced over at Bucky, his expression unreadable as usual.

"You know," she said, nudging him lightly with her elbow, "you could join in on the fun too. Unless you're afraid of losing to Sam."

Bucky raised an eyebrow. "I think I'll pass. Not really in the mood to fight another grown man for food today." He frowned at Sam flailing his arms to catch his balance after lunging to catch a grape in his mouth. “Or to look like…that.”

Charlotte chuckled. "I see you’re feeling especially cheery today."

"Of course I am," he replied, his lips quirking up into a small smirk. “Today’s your big day.”

“Don’t remind me.” She slumped lower in her seat, covering her eyes with her hands before peeking through her fingers at him. “Is it too late to make a break for it?”

"Sorry, you’ve exhausted the number of times I’m willing to jump out of a plane for you this month." He gave her his usual semi-annoyed look before softening it into a half-smile. “Don’t be nervous. You’ll do great.”

Charlotte nodded, a small sigh escaping her lips. "I mean, it’s not even the interview that’s bothering me. It's the fact that everything is, like...official, you know? I know I’ve been at the compound for a while, but I still kind of felt like I was just crashing there. Even the training exercises, all of that…I just feel like I’ve been staying as long as I’m welcome. But this, telling the world, I don’t know."

Bucky nodded in understanding. "I get it. I do. Don’t think this changes anything. You still have complete freedom to walk away whenever you want. This is just part of what we do. You aren’t trapped anywhere.” His hand twitched on his leg like he wanted to reach for her, but he didn’t.

"Thanks, Buck," Charlotte said, offering him a grateful smile.

"No problem," he replied, his gaze lingering on her for a moment longer than usual before he turned to look out the window.

Charlotte felt a flutter of something in her chest at his lingering gaze, but she pushed it aside, focusing on the task at hand. With Bucky's reassurance, she felt a little more confident about the upcoming press conference. She followed his glance out the window and allowed herself to zone out for the rest of the short flight.

Once they landed, the team dispersed into the Tower, each member attending to their own pre-conference rituals. For Charlotte, this meant entering a world she was far less familiar with than she expected.

Pepper led the trio of women to a spacious room filled with racks of designer clothes and a vanity table laden with makeup and hairstyling tools. The scent of luxury perfumes mingled with the smell of coffee being brewed in the corner.

"Welcome to the glam squad headquarters," she announced with a flourish, a warm smile on her lips. “Any of these outfits are available for you to wear today, and our lovely team will ensure you look your best before we hit the stage. I’ll come back for you in about an hour and a half. Let me know your lunch order and I’ll make sure it’s delivered.” She gave one final reassuring nod before stepping out the door.

Wanda was already browsing through the outfits, her fingers dancing over the hangars with an appreciative hum. "You're going to look stunning, Charlotte. The world won't know what hit them. I am a little jealous, though, I didn’t have half of these options when I joined." She gaped at the designer dress covered in plastic she tugged off the rack.

Charlotte chuckled, though her nerves were bubbling just beneath the surface. "As long as I don't fall flat on my face, I'll consider it a win."

"That's the spirit," Natasha quipped, her tone light but her gaze assessing. "Remember, if you look hot, they’ll only half pay attention to what you say anyways."

“Gee, that’s uplifting.” Charlotte cocked an eyebrow.

“Well, it’s true.” Nat shrugged. “Might as well use it to your advantage.” She held up a blazer dress with a plunging neckline.

“I love, but I think we should go for pants this time around.” Charlotte tugged the hem of her cargo pants up, revealing the almost-healed stitches still marring her leg.

“Probably for the best,” She agreed. “Wanda, you got anything good?”

The outfit ultimately chosen for Charlotte was a pair of cream, high waisted slacks and a matching vest-style tank top that complemented her athletic figure perfectly while hiding her unsightly battle wounds. Though her advanced healing had taken care of the various cuts and bruises across most of her body, her ribs remained black and blue and the leg…another story completely. The fabric was forgiving enough to allow for comfortable movement, yet tailored to show off her curves. The ensemble was accented with a simple gold belt, adding a touch of sophistication without overdoing it. After an hour of ironing, curling, being made up by a team of beautiful but somewhat rough-handed women -- the three Avengers were left alone.

Wanda, with a gentle touch, brushed a few of Charlotte’s curls, loosening them with her hands. As she worked, she shared her own story of the first press conference she attended, the nerves, the fear of being judged, and how she found her strength. She had the shit luck to have to do a press conference shortly after a particularly public failed mission, with the news not being especially fond of her at the time. The look in her eye said she still carried the weight of their judgment.

"It's about owning your story, Charlotte. Not letting the world dictate it…because they will try. Don’t let them tell you who you are or who you should be."

Charlotte listened intently, absorbing the wisdom being offered as well as the glimpse of vulnerability. She looked at her reflection, seeing not just the physical transformation but feeling a shift inside herself. She could do this. She was playing a part, just like every other time she’d stepped into a new world before. "Thanks, you two. For everything."

Natasha placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, locking eyes with her in the mirror. "We've got your back, always. Pepper won’t let it go sideways, and if anyone tries anything…." She winked and tugged at the hem of her dress, revealing a thigh holster.

With a final gloss touch-up, Charlotte stood ready, the epitome of a public figure: poised, confident, and only somewhat reluctantly embracing her new role in the spotlight.

It was a blur of activity from there.

Pepper came to retrieve the girls and guide them to a small room beside where the conference would take place. The men of the team were already waiting, having undergone a slight transformation themselves. Most of them wearing some variation of a button up or suit jacket, they looked equally as handsome as they were lethal. The sounds of a crowd in the next room carried through the wall, catching Charlotte’s attention. Stepping back through the door, Pepper stood to usher everyone through to take their seats at the long table on the stage.

As they walked to the doorway, the team offered their affirmations to Charlotte, each one expressing their confidence in her in their own way. Steve’s reassuring nod, Tony’s overstated wink and thumbs-up, and Wanda’s warm, encouraging smile. As they filed out of the room, Charlotte was left alone in the sudden quiet of the room, unable to make her feet move.

“Hey.”

Charlotte jerked her head up to see Bucky leaning against the doorframe with an ease that belied his own turbulent history with the spotlight. He watched the others leave, ensuring they were alone before turning his full attention to Charlotte. "You look ready to take on the world out there," he remarked, a slight smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

Charlotte met his gaze, her expression a mixture of gratitude and burgeoning panic. "I feel like I'm about to face a firing squad."

"That’s just the press. Less lethal, but twice as persistent," Bucky quipped, moving closer. His tone softened. "Hey, look at me," he coaxed gently until she did. "You've got this. You're strong, you deserve to be here, and you’ve faced shit ten times as bad as this in the past two weeks. This is nothing."

Charlotte huffed a laugh, tension easing slightly at his attempt to lighten the mood. "I think I’d take the airborne dogfight over this right about now."

“Careful what you wish for.”

Looking up at him, her eyes pleaded. “What if they hate me?”

“That’s impossible.” He didn’t miss a beat. There was a pause as he stared down at her before shrugging, a mock-serious expression on his face. "Plus, if I can win over the court of public opinion, then a superhero gymnast with a penchant for high-stakes blackjack doesn’t stand a chance of failing. Plus, you’re not half-bad looking."

Her laughter was genuine this time, cheeks flushing. "Thanks, Bucky. Again."

He offered her a reassuring nod, his gaze sincere. "Don’t mention it. Just remember, those people out there? They’re not your judges. You’re not on trial. You’re here to tell your story, on your terms. That’s all."

As Pepper opened the door, giving them the final call, Bucky stepped aside, offering her the way out. "Showtime, Charlotte. Time to introduce the world to the newest Avenger."

With a deep breath, bolstered by Bucky’s words and the support of the team, Charlotte stepped through the door. The room buzzed with anticipation, a sea of faces and flashing cameras directed at the stage where Charlotte took her seat beside Pepper Potts, who had assumed the role of moderator for the event. Charlotte's gaze swept across the crowd, taking in the eager expressions and lifted recorders. Despite the butterflies performing acrobatics in her stomach, she held herself with an almost deceptive calm, playing the role of the poised and practiced figure she so desperately wished she was.

Pepper stepped forward, offering a warm smile to the audience. "Thank you, everyone, for joining us today. As you know we're here to introduce a new member to the Avengers Initiative, Charlotte Rossi. Many of you might know her from her impressive gymnastic achievements in the past, but today, we're here to discuss who she is and her new role with us.” She read from her notes, clearly well-rehearsed, because she only glanced down every few sentences. She gave their pre-written statement about Charlotte having been recruited and training with the Avengers for the past few months, and how they believe she will be an incredible asset to the team. When she finished, she looked back up at the crowd with her usual poise and calm. “Questions?"

The first question came swiftly, a hand shooting up from the front row. “Charlotte, many people in the gymnastics world were confused and angry about your sudden appearance on the scene. Where, exactly, did you come from?”

Nervously, Charlotte leaned into the microphone and joked. “How much time do you have?” The ripple of laughter through the crowd relaxed some of the tension in her shoulders. She was warned not to bring up her heritage, Pepper reaffirming how skittish the American press could be when it came to ‘outsiders’ in positions of perceived power.

"Charlotte, can you tell us about your transition from gymnastics to becoming an Avenger? How did those skills translate?"

Charlotte’s response was more relaxed, her voice steady. "Well, I’ve found that dodging bullets isn’t all that different from navigating a balance beam, except the mistakes are a lot more dangerous than a five-point deduction." Another round of chuckles amidst the raised hands.

Another question followed, more personal this time. "There have been rumors of your...let’s say, 'adventurous' nights in Las Vegas. Care to comment?"

Finding her rhythm, Charlotte offered a wry smile. "What can I say? I like to keep life interesting. But to set the record straight, no laws were broken. Unless you count breaking the bank as a crime, in which case, I think you’ll be more concerned with Mr. Stark over here."

The atmosphere of the room lightened with her candidness, her ability to address rumors head-on while still maintaining a playful air about her. A seasoned reporter from a major news outlet raised her hand, her expression one of genuine curiosity mixed with the tenacity of a journalist looking for a deeper story.

"Charlotte, much of your background remains a mystery to the public. Would you mind sharing some of your experiences that shaped the person and the Avenger you are today?"

Charlotte took a deep breath, her training with Pepper reminding her to navigate these waters carefully. She had been instructed to answer honestly, to allow the world to see her as a person and get invested in her story, but also not reveal so much that any potential enemy would gain an edge on her. She gestured down the table at the rest of the team, all watching her with encouraging smiles.

"Everyone here has a story, a journey that led them to where they are. Mine was...complicated. I was orphaned, abducted, and subjected to years of horrific experiments and abuse that I don’t know if I’ll ever go into detail about.” The room was silent, the eyes of her teammates somber. A few, Natasha and Bucky in particular, looked like they’d rip the head off of anyone who dared interrupt Charlotte in this moment. “I've faced challenges and situations that tested me in ways I could never have imagined. Ways that you probably can’t imagine. But it's because of those challenges that I learned resilience, the importance of standing up for what's right, and the value of strength—not just the physical kind, but the strength of character. Those are the qualities I bring to the Avengers. I want the horrors of this world to continue to remain a mystery for all of you, and your children, and their children. I want to stop the evil before it starts. I want to protect the innocent the way I, and so many others," Her eyes darted to the side, to Wanda and Natasha, before facing forward again. “...weren’t protected.”

A murmur of approval and slight applause went through the crowd, cameras flashing wildly now that the vulnerable moment had passed.

Another question followed swiftly from a bald man in the front row, touching on her capabilities. "Can you tell us more about your powers? What makes you a valuable asset to the Avengers skill-wise?"

Smiling slightly, Charlotte replied, "Why don’t you come up here and find out?” More laughter, except from the reporter asking the question, who paled. “I have enhanced reflexes, strength and a very adaptable mind, which, when combined, allow me to anticipate and counteract threats in ways that are... unconventional."

Her answers were measured, revealing enough to satisfy curiosity without delving too deeply into the traumas of her past or the specifics of her abilities. It was a balancing act—showing vulnerability to make her relatable but maintaining enough distance to keep her privacy intact. The mock-conferences and press training with Pepper had seemed like overkill at the time, but Charlotte silently praised her for mandating them. Ten or so minutes passed with similar questions, asking about things they knew she wouldn’t be able to answer, like future missions and training protocol. She gave them the canned answer she’d practiced so many times. It went around and around before the inevitable question about her love life emerged from the crowd, thinly veiled as professional interest.

"As the newest Avenger, there's bound to be speculation about...romantic connections within the team. Any comments?"

Charlotte’s laughter was soft, flipping her hair behind her shoulder as she leaned in to answer. "I wasn’t aware that joining the Avengers came with a dating service. I’ll have to check on that. Right now, my focus is on settling into my role and using my abilities for the greater good. But thanks for asking."

Pepper raised her hand to quiet down the chuckles of the crowd and the clamoring for further questions. “I’m afraid that’s all the time we have today. Thank you all for coming, please feel free to contact me with any further questions regarding Ms. Rossi or the rest of the team,” She was cut off by an overzealous reporter in the second row.

“Wait, wait, Ms. Rossi,” She was flushed, clearly nervous. “What should we call you? I mean, there’s Black Widow, Captain America, the Falcon…and you?”

Charlotte felt Nat’s hand squeeze hers under the table as she grinned. “Mockingbird.”

________

The evening sky was streaked with hues of orange and pink as Charlotte stood alone on the balcony, taking in the breathtaking view of the New York skyline. The gentle breeze tugged at her hair, sending strands dancing around her face. She savored the stillness of the moment, a welcome respite from the chaos of her thoughts.

A soft voice interrupted her daze, and she turned to see Bucky stepping out onto the balcony, his figure illuminated by the fading sunlight. The team had opted to stay dressed up for the evening, with Tony throwing an over-the-top dinner party for the occasion. She’d borrowed a loose, but low cut black slip dress from Natasha, not caring that the bandages on her left leg showed beneath the calf-length hemline. It was only the team tonight, anyways, and they’d seen much worse. Bucky’s black dress shirt hugged his chest, his long hair falling just above the collar where it was tucked behind his ears.

"Hey," he said, his tone surprisingly gentle.

"Hey," Charlotte replied, mustering a smile.

They stood in comfortable silence for a moment, both lost in the beauty of the sunset.

"Quite the view, huh?" Bucky finally spoke, breaking the silence.

Charlotte nodded, her gaze fixed on the horizon. "Yeah, it's... surreal," she said softly.

Bucky chuckled, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Tell me about it. Never thought I'd be watching sunsets from a place like this."

Charlotte's gaze lingered on the skyline, a playful glint in her eyes as she turned to him. "Just taking it all in. Hard to believe I went from some shit orphanage in Russia to this."

Leaning next to her, Bucky chuckled. "Hey, you had a few steps in between. Vegas, right? I’m sure you saw some views there that put this one to shame.”

“I’m embarrassed to say I didn’t see much of the sun while I was there.” Charlotte chuckled sheepishly. “I spent most of my time in the casino, losing track of time. And money.”

“Sounds like you acclimated to modern life quicker than I did. I was still figuring out smartphones while you were racking up chips at the Bellagio, and I had about five years of real world experience on you."

Charlotte laughed, a hint of mischief in her smile. "Hey, a girl's gotta eat. We figure out what we have to do to survive."

Bucky nodded in agreement, a wry smile playing on his lips. "I don’t disagree…but it does sound like your methods of survival are more on the glamorous side.” He raised an eyebrow at her.

“Like I said,” She winked. “A girl’s gotta eat.”

There was another moment of comfortable silence as their chuckles faded into the cool air. Shifting her weight on her heels, Charlotte glanced back up at Bucky.

"How'd you manage?" She asked, her curiosity evident. “To acclimate to all…this.” She gestured across the horizon.

"It took me a while to find my footing. Everything moves so fast," Bucky replied, glancing at the bustling city below. “I used to live over there, you know.” He pointed to a suburb across the skyline. “Brooklyn. Steve and I grew up there. It was so simple back then, but of course, we didn’t realize it at the time.”

Bucky paused, considering his thoughts. "The team helped a lot. Steve, especially. He’d just gone through it a few years before I did, so he was extra empathetic. I don’t know if I would have figured out half the shit that I did if it weren’t for him."

“Is that why you’ve been helping me?” Charlotte nudged him. “Just paying your super-soldier duties forward to the next poor soul thrust from cryo into the modern world?”

Regarding her carefully, Bucky shook his head before looking back out into the last few beams of light. “Something like that.”

Charlotte's laughter filled the air. "Damn, Sarge. Here I thought you were doing it out of the goodness of your heart.”

“Maybe I just like feeling like I’m not the most out of touch person on the team.” His voice bordered on playful.

“Whatever stops the tears.” Charlotte gave him a light shove, picking up her heels from where they were discarded on a nearby patio lounger. “But for now, we should probably head back before Tony sends a search party."

Offering his arm with a gentle tease in his tone, Bucky said, "After you, Ms. Rossi. Let's not keep the man waiting."

________

The evening unfurled under the twinkling lights of the Tower's lavish dining room, an opulent space that could easily have doubled as a ballroom in another life. It was somehow sleek and modern, but regal and timeless all at once. The massive table, hewn from a single slab of dark, polished wood, stretched across the room, its surface gleaming under the soft light of numerous crystal chandeliers. Each setting was a masterpiece of fine china and gleaming silverware, flanked by crystal glasses that caught the light and scattered rainbows across the white linen tablecloth. Around the table, a jovial atmosphere bubbled among the Avengers, the change of scenery causing everyone to let loose for the evening.

The press conference had gone off without a hitch, marking yet another victory for the team, not just on the battlefield but in the court of public opinion. It was an occasion worth celebrating, and Tony, ever the consummate host, had spared no expense. His private chef had outdone himself, with course after course of exquisite dishes that would have made a Michelin-starred chef green with envy. The air was filled with the rich aromas of gourmet cuisine so fancy that Charlotte couldn’t even place half of it.

As the first round of plates were served, Tony stood, glass in hand, capturing the room's attention with the clink of a knife and a flash of his charismatic smile. "Ladies and gentlemen, and Spiderlings," he began, winking at Peter. "Tonight, we toast to many things. To the newest Avenger, Charlotte, who's shown us all that a life of white collar crime and card counting is something to aspire to." A round of hollering and whistles filled the room, Nat rustling Charlotte’s hair as she giggled.

"To Pepper, whose brilliance behind the scenes ensures our press conferences look more like award shows than the PR minefields they truly are. All while looking absolutely delicious, if I do say so myself…and I do." Another wave of laughter and applause swept through the team, with Pepper smiling modestly, her cheeks tinged with a blush of pride.

"And let's not forget to raise our glasses to Sam and Calla," Tony continued, his smile broadening. "The two people on my payroll who managed to keep the biggest secret from what was previously thought to be the world’s leading intelligence organization. We really should be more concerned about that. To Sam and Calla!" The table erupted in a chorus of congratulations, with the couple beaming, their hands intertwined.

Tony's gaze swept across his team, a twinkle in his eye. "And because no celebration is complete without a challenge, even our super soldiers aren't off the hook tonight. Thanks to a little intergalactic bartering, I've secured a keg of Asgardian mead. So, let's see if those enhanced metabolisms can keep up with the gods. Cheers!"

Laughter bubbled up around the table as Tony poured the golden liquid, serving two glasses to the reluctant super soldiers across the table from Charlotte and Natasha. Crystal glasses were thrust into the air around the table, clinking and spilling as the buzz from the wine served at dinner caught up to everyone.

"Here's to us," Tony declared, his voice carrying the weight of their shared trials and triumphs. "To the Avengers, new and old, and to a night that we'll remember—probably. Actually, hopefully not. Drink up!"

Charlotte

I don’t think I’ve ever felt so full in my life.

Six courses. Plates practically licked clean. Dessert still on the way. Which, of course, I’d ordered two dishes. Who the hell could choose between red velvet cake and bananas foster anyways?

The meal didn’t seem to slow anyone down. Earth’s Mightiest Heroes with Earth’s Mightiest Appetites. Looking around the room, it was like the most chaotic renaissance painting you could imagine. Sam, with his arm around Calla, was telling a story that somehow had Peter terrified, Wanda laughing so hard champagne was about to come out her nose, and Pepper looking mildly concerned. Tony was engaged in conversation with Calla, somehow tuning out her fiance’s antics. Though his eyes had the classic red-wine-glazed look in them, a quick glance at his lips told me they were talking about carbon fiber photon reactors. Snooze. On Sam’s other side, Steve was playing right into Natasha’s hand. She was leaning forward onto her elbows, twirling a strand of her hair around her finger as she pretended to listen to his story about the Yankees’ World Series win back before the war.

I couldn’t help but admire her tactic. Poor Stevie, looking equally as excited to be talking about Babe Ruth as he was to have Natasha’s undivided attention. I chuckled, taking a sip of my wine, catching Bucky’s attention across the table. He shook his head ever-so-slightly, rolling his eyes at the scene unfolding beside us before turning back to pretend he was listening to Steve as well. Amid the joviality, I found myself continually stealing glances at Bucky. He was surprisingly engaged in Steve's story, a ghost of a smile on his lips as he listened. There was a warmth in his eyes that I'd grown accustomed to, a subtle shift from the guardedness I'd seen when we first met.

Then, Tony, with that mischievous glint in his eye, raised his glass for attention, and the room fell silent. "I've got the best idea for our next fundraising initiative," he announced, his voice cutting through the air. "The ‘Women of the Avengers’ swimsuit calendar. Think of the headlines, the buzz! Pepper, get Sports Illustrated on the phone. We need to get the ball rolling."

The table erupted in groans and laughter, and Pepper promptly smacked Tony on the arm, a warning in her eyes. Amidst the chaos, I caught Bucky's gaze. His eyes traveled over me slowly, appreciatively, sending a shiver down my spine. Leaning in slightly, he murmured, just loud enough for me to hear over the chaos, "I'd hang that on my wall."

My cheeks flushed and my heart somersaulted in my chest at his audacity. In a room filled with drunken laughter and shouting, we somehow shared a private moment, our eyes locking amidst the chaos.

I wondered if he was thinking the same things I was. The same filthy, depraved things. It was a fleeting connection, but it was enough to make my pulse race and my breath catch in my throat.

Before I could fully process the moment, Steve elbowed Bucky, teasing him about his newfound appreciation for modern digital calendars, and the spell was broken. But the ghost of Bucky's gaze lingered, burned into my skin. As I forced myself to turn my attention to the rest of the table, I couldn't shake the feeling of his eyes on me, an almost intoxicating thrill that danced along my skin, igniting a spark of…something.

I could only hope it was a firework and not an atomic bomb.

After dessert, the atmosphere had shifted as everyone moved to the lounge while the staff cleaned the table. Tony, who seemed to get his kicks from getting everyone drunk and causing trouble, had suggested, "How about a game to keep the night interesting?" which was met with an enthusiastic chorus of agreement and raised glasses.

We settled into the spacious living area, sitting in various degrees of sprawled across the sectional and the floor. At the heart of our haphazard circle, a bottle of Asgardian mead, now half empty, stood proudly. "Alright, we're playing 'Never Have I Ever'," Tony declared, brandishing five fingers in the air, "Avengers edition. And let's not forget, honesty is the best policy, especially with FRIDAY, and Jesus, as your judge."

The game started with mostly harmless confessions. Pepper shared that she'd never dyed her hair, prompting Tony to jest, "Really? I totally had you down for a secret pastel goth phase."

The stakes and laughter rose as the rounds progressed. "Never have I ever stolen something," Sam chimed, casting a glance around the room as if Scott Lang were present to take the fall in that round. Grinning, I put a finger down and took a drink, seeing Natasha do the same across the room.

My turn came, and I felt a momentary hesitation, keenly aware of all the eyes on me and everything I truly hadn’t done. With a dazed smile, I ventured, "Never have I ever been mistaken for a celebrity." The room erupted into laughter as several fingers dropped. Tony grumbled about his frequent mix-ups with Elon Musk, and Peter, flushing, confessed, "Someone thought I was Tom Holland once."

Bucky, who had been partaking with a quietly amused smile, chose his turn to engage fully. "Never have I ever gone skinny-dipping." His declaration sent a wave of laughter and surprised exclamations through the group as multiple fingers, including Steve's to everyone's astonishment, were lowered.

"Alright, Rogers, you've got to have a tale behind that," Tony prodded, only to be met with Steve's good-natured refusal and a chuckle as he took a sip, "Not a chance, Stark."

As the game unfolded, laughter and pure drunken candidness seemed to dissolve the last remnants of formality among us. I found myself caught up in the genuine joy of the moment, laughing with an ease I hadn't felt in ages. Surrounded by friends, real friends, I felt the burdens I’d been carrying for so long lighten, even if just for the evening.

As Wanda took her turn, her grin widened mischievously, lighting up the room. "Never have I ever made out with someone in this room," she announced, and the room fell into a brief, suspenseful silence before bursting into laughter and gasps of faux outrage as nearly everyone lowered a finger.

Wanda's eyes twinkled with mischief as she confidently dropped a finger of her own, her gaze briefly connecting with Peter's in a silent, shared joke. One by one, fingers descended amidst smirks and secretive glances. Pepper and Tony exchanged a look of amused resignation, Steve and Natasha shared a glance that spoke volumes, confirming rumors without a word, and Sam's arm found its way around Calla -- everyone taking a sip of their drink.

Well, all but two of us.

All eyes eventually drifted to Bucky and me, the lone two not ensnared by Wanda's cleverly laid trap. The air between us felt thick, suffocating, as our teammates' expectant glances bore down on us.

"Come on, you two, don't hold out on us," Tony teased, his smile broad and mischievous. "This is a safe, albeit slightly incestuous, place," he assured.

"Yeah, join the club. We're all exceptionally good friends here," Sam added, winking as Calla elbowed him.

I couldn't help but laugh somewhat nervously, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks. Bucky's reaction was so characteristically him. “What, do you want me to do a backflip or something? Fuck off.” He waved off the laughter and boos of the team, taking a longer drink than usual from his glass. I had never been more thankful for his grumpy old man shtick.

My stomach warmed as I gulped down more champagne, averting my gaze briefly before recovering with a playful retort. "Alright, storytime, everyone. If we're airing out our laundry, let's make it a show. What about you, Steve, Natasha? And Peter, Wanda, do tell," I said, managing to deflect attention while fueling my own curiosity. Peter? Wanda? Really? Do I know these people at all?

Bucky simply shook his head, amusement touching the corners of his eyes.

The room murmured with anticipation, everyone's attention now laser focused on Steve and Natasha. After a shared, silent exchange, Natasha leaned in, her voice low. "Let's just say, long missions can get... interesting. You find ways to pass the time," she teased, leaving much to the imagination. Whistles and catcalls filled the air as Steve blushed, looking sheepish but not ashamed.

The spotlight then shifted to Peter and Wanda, the former wearing an expression of embarrassment mixed with fond remembrance. "Peter wanted to make an ex-girlfriend jealous, and being the wonderful friend I am, I agreed to help," Wanda explained, grinning.

Peter chimed in, "It was more effective than we anticipated," eliciting another round of whistles from the group.

The chaos reached a new height as everyone seemed to freak out at the new revelations about how salacious, and as Tony said, incestuous our little team truly was. I made a mental note not to refer to us as a family, ever. I opened my mouth to excuse myself, but the team was so distracted, I saved my breath. Pushing myself off the ground, I grabbed my glass and made my way around the massive couch. I hadn’t quite realized how much I’d drank until standing up, feeling my head spin. Maybe mixing the Asgardian mead with expensive champagne wasn’t my best idea, but hey, Tony said the goal wasn’t to remember tonight, and I was well on my way.

I found myself at the bar, reaching for a bottle that promised to cool the warmth in my cheeks and the flutter in my stomach. My hand brushed against metal fingers, and the world seemed to tilt slightly on its axis. Bucky, with his stupid silent approach, apparently had the same idea, and was reaching for the same escape in a bottle.

"Sorry," he whispered, his fingers closing around my fist, gripping the neck of the bottle. Yet, he made no move to distance himself; instead, he edged closer, the air between us practically crackling with electricity.

Our eyes locked, and in that moment, the crowded room, the laughter, and the music faded into a distant hum. I could smell his cologne and the bitter scent of the otherworldly mead. I could see the stubble along his jawline.

"No, you’re not," I found myself whispering, the words a mix of challenge and invitation, laced with a yearning for the line we’d drawn in the sand to be crossed.

His smile was slow, deliberate, dark. "Not even a little," he confessed, his voice husky.

The air around us seemed to thicken, time slowing as we leaned closer, the rest of the world blurring into insignificance. The anticipation of the moment was almost palpable, our breaths mingling, his lips the last thing I saw as I closed my eyes. My stomach seared with the fire that ripped through it and threatened to burn me alive.

"Hey, you two! You're missing the best part of the party!" Sam’s voice had never felt more unwelcome as it carried around the corner, his fists banging on the wall.

We sprang apart, the spell broken. I swore I felt the moment freeze over and shatter into a million pieces on the ground. Bucky's gaze turned guarded, yet a smile lingered on his lips, a silent acknowledgment the fact that, I don’t know…fucking everything almost just changed. I couldn’t tell if it was the base of the music or my own heartbeat thundering through my bones. All I could see was a set of blue eyes, watching me, daring me to say anything.

Bucky released his grip on mine and the bottle, muttering, “I think I’ve had enough tonight.”

"Coming, Sam," I managed, my voice steadier than I felt, my heart still racing, my muddled brain struggling to process what just almost happened.

As we rejoined the group, the buzz of the party enveloped us right back in. I settled onto the couch between Wanda and Peter, animatedly cheering Steve on in a game of flip cup against Tony. I took a slow sip of the champagne I’d refilled and a deep breath along with it.

Atomic bomb, for sure.

#james bucky barnes #bucky barnes #avengers #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes x oc #winter soldier #bucky fluff #sebastian stan #winter soldier fluff

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beefromanoff · 2 months

Text

Project Mockingbird Ch. 15

summary: the tension...is palpable. but maybe a breakthrough?

pairing: Bucky Barnes x OC

author's note: TWO IN ONE WEEK! I love seeing everyone's responses to this story! it's so fun to write, and it's definitely heating up. let me know what you think!

tag list: @bangtanxberm @scott-loki-barnes @kayhi808 @charmedbysarge

(let me know if you want to be added <3)

chapter list

_______________________________________

The sterile air of the training room hummed with a tension that felt almost palpable. Bucky stood, arms crossed, in front of a giant digital screen displaying a complex urban environment. Charlotte, her focus intense, studied the map that sprawled before her. It had only been two days since the attack on the compound, and though she’d been released to sleep in her own bed the first night, she wasn’t cleared for combat training until her broken ribs had healed and the stitches had been removed from her leg. She’d opted to return to lessons with Bucky almost immediately, despite their spat in the medical wing. Her desire to avoid being alone with her thoughts was stronger than her desire to avoid him.

He wore his normal daily attire: tactical pants and combat boots, a snug black shirt hugging his chest. Charlotte wore almost identical garb, with loose cargo pants the most comfortable to wear over the bandaging on her leg.

"Okay," Bucky began, his voice steady, "you have your objective. Hostage situation, downtown area, high civilian presence. Minimal casualties, maximum stealth. Your move."

Charlotte paused for a moment before pointing to a section of the map, tracing a potential entry route. "Rooftop entry here. We can use the neighboring building as a vantage point."

Bucky shook his head. "Too exposed. Snipers could easily pin you down. Next."

She bit her lip, her frustration growing, then suggested, "What about a distraction? Create a diversion on the opposite block to draw them out."

"And risk civilian casualties? Not an option. Think, Charlotte."

She took a deep breath, regrouping, before offering another handful of potential ways to diffuse the situation. With each suggestion shot down, Charlotte's strategies grew more audacious, her patience thinning. As her ideas got sloppier, Bucky’s feedback got more critical.

“You do that and you might as well just surrender now. They’d see you coming a mile away and have all their forces ready to ambush you. Are you prepared to send your whole team into a blatant trap? You’re not even thinking this through.” He shook his head, running a hand through his hair.

Finally, she snapped. "What do you want from me, Bucky? To pull some genius plan out of thin air? You're not giving me anything to work with!"

Bucky, unyielding, leaned forward until his face was inches from hers. "I want you to think. Real situations won't give you 'anything to work with' either. You need to adapt, improvise, and most importantly, keep those hostages and your team safe."

Charlotte's eyes blazed. "You think I don't know that? You're acting like I'm some rookie who's never faced a real threat!"

“Last time I checked, you are a rookie. When was the last mission you came on?” Bucky's tone hardened. "I'm trying to prepare you for situations where there might not be a clear right answer. You think I don't see your potential? I do. But potential's not enough when the lives of people you care about are on the line. You need to be strategic, not just brave. If you run into an escalated situation with nothing but ‘kick ass’ in your arsenal, you’re going to get yourself killed."

The air between them crackled with tension as Charlotte threw her hands in the air. "Oh, so now you're the world’s leading expert on nonviolent negotiations? Last time I checked, only one of us has ‘World’s Deadliest’ on our resume and it isn’t me.” She didn’t shy away, getting even closer to his face. “Tell me how much strategy came into play then, Soldat."

The words hung heavy, a low blow that cut incredibly deep. Bucky's face tightened, a flicker of old pain in his eyes as he set his jaw. If looks could kill, she had a feeling she’d have already taken her last breath. Instead of the verbal lashing she expected, he took a slow breath before stepping back.

"That's not fair, Charlotte, and you know it," he replied, his voice low but sharp enough to slice through the tension.

Charlotte, her chest heaving with a mix of anger and regret, met his gaze. The room felt smaller, the air thicker.

"I—" She began, then stopped. What was she doing? This was Bucky, who'd risked everything, who'd been through hell and back. And here she was, using his past against him. "I'm sorry," she said, the words feeling inadequate. "That was out of line."

But Bucky's demeanor had already shifted. He looked at her, his gaze piercing, and for a moment, Charlotte thought she saw a flicker of something more—anger, betrayal, perhaps even hurt. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared, shuttered behind the steel walls he was so adept at erecting.

"Yeah," Bucky finally said, his voice cold and distant. "It was."

Without another word, he turned on his heel and walked briskly away. The sound of his boots against the floor echoed in the large room, each step thundering through her. Charlotte watched him go, her heart sinking. She wanted to call out, to apologize again, to explain that her words had come from a place of frustration and fear, not malice. But the words stuck in her throat, tangled up with her pride and the lingering sting of their argument.

As the door slid shut behind him, leaving her alone in the silence of the training room, a mix of emotions roiled within her. Guilt for having crossed a line, anger at Bucky for being so impossibly difficult to work with, and beneath it all, a gnawing fear that she had just irreparably damaged whatever fragile connection they had been building.

She sank down onto a nearby bench, her injured leg protesting the sudden movement. The physical pain was nothing compared to the turmoil swirling inside her. She had wanted to prove herself, to show Bucky—and maybe, more importantly, herself—that she was capable, that she wasn't the weak link. Instead, she had let her temper get the best of her, lashing out in the worst possible way. The worst part? She really was trying. All of her suggestions, at least the early ones, were instinctive. Had she been in the heat of a mission, thinking on the spot, she would have acted on them. Acted on them and gotten people killed, as Bucky was so keen on reminding her. Goddamn him, this was difficult for her. She didn’t come from a military background before her capture by HYDRA, and she didn’t have years with Earth’s Mightiest Heroes honing her skills. She knew how to fight, how to survive, as she’d proven time and time again. Yet, all he seemed to be able to see was where she fell short. Brute strength and violence had gotten him through some of the worst horrors known to man, and here he was, telling her that wouldn’t be enough. Well, it would have to be. That was all she had.

The room felt oppressively large now, the echoes of their argument bouncing off the walls, a reminder of how quickly things had spiraled out of control, as they always seemed to do. Charlotte wrapped her arms around herself, a futile attempt to ward off the chill that had nothing to do with the temperature of the room.

______

The night air was crisp, and the lake below was a reflection of the starlit sky as Charlotte stood alone on the balcony, wrapped in her thoughts and an oversized sweatshirt. The events of the day had left her raw, her emotions a tangle of frustration, guilt, and an indefinable ache that seemed to pulse with the night. She’d avoided the common room until she knew Bucky would be in training with the SHIELD agents, then shut herself in her room until after dinner, leaving only to get herself the plate of food she knew Natasha had left in the fridge for her. After another failed attempt to sleep, she’d awoken in a cold sweat and found her way out to the balcony.

Behind her, the sliding door whispered open, and she stiffened, half-expecting another attack. But when she whirled around, already setting her feet in a defensive posture, it was to find Bucky standing there with two steaming cups of coffee in his hands. The panic must have shown on her face because he raised the mugs candidly, showing the peace offering.

"Vanilla, extra cream," he said, extending one of the cups towards her. The gesture was so unexpected, so gentle after their harsh words earlier, that Charlotte found herself momentarily lost for words. She couldn’t remember ever telling him how she took her coffee, and yet here it was, smelling perfectly sweet and familiar.

She took the cup, feeling the warmth seep into her fingers. "Bucky, I—I need to apologize. For earlier. I was so out of line," she started, but Bucky shook his head, cutting her off.

"No," he said firmly, "I pushed you too hard. I haven't been fair to you, haven't given you the credit you deserve." He leaned on the balcony railing, his gaze distant, reflective. "You saved the compound, Charlotte. While we were off chasing ghosts, you...you showed you have what it takes. In the heat of the moment, you did what you had to, and you saved lives." He tilted his head to meet her eyes. “You risked your own. I just…don’t want you to have to do that again.”

Charlotte's facade crumbled, her carefully constructed walls falling away as tears welled in her eyes. "What's wrong?" Bucky asked, brows furrowing in concern.

"I just... I didn't feel prepared," she admitted, her voice trembling with emotion. "I was terrified the whole time, and I had no idea what I was doing. Everyone keeps calling me a hero, and I don’t…I’m not one.”

Bucky's head tilted as he took a step closer, his gaze searching hers. "You did great out there, Charlotte. You saved this whole place, and the lives of everyone in it."

Charlotte shook her head, a bitter laugh escaping her lips as the tears spilled over. "Did I? Or was it just dumb luck?"

Bucky reached out, gently cupping her cheek and wiping away her tears with his thumb. "Hey, don't say that. You were incredible. You held your own against HYDRA."

“I was scared shitless. I kept thinking how it was my fault. My fault they came here in the first place, and it would be my fault that the compound fell while you were gone. The whole time, I was just…making it up as I went.” She laughed coldly again, looking up to blink back tears. “Everyone keeps acting like I did something amazing, when we both know I only survived because of you. You’re the only one who sees through me, sees that I don’t have a fucking clue what I’m doing and I hate it. I wish you weren’t right, but you have been. Every single goddamn time.” She angrily wiped her tears with the sleeve of her sweatshirt.

Watching her, sensing she wasn’t done, Bucky’s hand rested reassuringly on her shoulder.

Charlotte looked down into her mug, seeing her reflection warped on the surface of the liquid. "I felt terrified," she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. "Confused, lost. It all felt so... unnatural. I was second-guessing every decision, worried I was making the wrong move." She stared blankly ahead, eyes unseeing as her gaze looked somewhere past the lake. "I took it as a sign that I'd never make a good Avenger."

Bucky leaned back down over the railing, frowning at her. "Do you think you're the only one who feels that way? Even after hundreds of missions, there are times I'm still scared, still doubting." He paused, searching her face. "That fear, that uncertainty, it doesn't make you weak. It makes you human. And it's what makes you think, makes you evaluate and choose the best path forward, even when it's hard. It doesn’t mean you’re not cut out for this…it just means you actually give a shit about what you’re doing."

Charlotte met his gaze, and in that moment, a connection forged in the heat of conflict and cooled in the calm of understanding passed between them. The swift forgiveness of her incredibly cruel words. The raw, brutal honesty. The peace offering. The lack of judgment as she broke down in front of him. "I guess we're just trying to do our best, huh?" she said, a tentative, watery smile touching her lips.

"Yeah," Bucky agreed, his voice soft but steady. "We're all just trying to do our best.”

Charlotte stared ahead, taking a slow sip of her coffee. Bucky studied her for a moment, his gaze searching. "Why are you up so late, Char?" he asked quietly.

She hesitated, the words catching in her throat for a moment before she spoke. "Nightmares," she admitted quietly. "I’ve always had them, but they've been worse since... since the attack. I see all the other outcomes, if I’d failed. Tonight I dreamt that they got me, took me back there. That’s the worst one. Sometimes I have to get outside, under the stars and fresh air, just to remind myself that I'm free."

Bucky's expression softened, a flicker of understanding passing through his eyes. "I know what you mean," he said, his voice low. "I still get them too. I imagine that I wake up from cryo, and this was all a dream, that I was never free. That’s my worst one.”

Their eyes met, a rare moment when both of their walls had come down. Their looks mirrored each other, vulnerable and bare, waiting for the other to make one wrong move and get shut back out. Neither of them spoke. Even speaking the contents of her nightmares aloud had made Charlotte’s hands tremble, and she took a deep breath, her fingers tightening around the warm ceramic of her coffee cup. Breaking their gaze, she looked back out into the expansive night sky.

"Are you...scared? Now that they’re back?" she asked hesitantly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Bucky didn't hesitate. "Shitless.”

Charlotte reached out, her hand finding his on the railing. She expected him to pull away, to retreat into himself as he so often did. But to her surprise, he didn't. Instead, he tightened his grip, his thumb tracing small circles on the back of her hand.

They sat in silence as the night stretched on around them, finding solace in each other's presence. They had no answers, no reprieve in sleep, not even peace in their home, but they had a hand to hold onto, anchoring them in their fear. And with it, they found a flicker of hope, a glimmer of light in the darkness that threatened to consume them both.

________

The Avengers' kitchen was a hive of activity, with pots clanging, eggs frying, and the aroma of breakfast filling the air. The team members moved about with practiced ease, each contributing to the morning chaos in their own way.

Sam, wielding a spatula like a pro, called out to Natasha, who was expertly flipping pancakes on the griddle. "Hey, Nat, you sure you didn't miss your calling as a short-order cook?" he teased, earning a laugh from the others.

“Maybe in the next life,” She winked, flipping another perfect pancake.

Steve couldn't resist chiming in from his post by the toaster. "I don't know, Sam. I think I’ve got her beat," he quipped, waving his burnt toast in the air. Charlotte wrinkled her nose as she walked past it, the bitter smell assaulting her.

“Good morning sunshine,” Sam called before resuming his whistling, clearly in a great mood. Charlotte wondered if he’d just gotten back from Calla’s apartment, and when they’d stop splitting their time now that the secret of their relationship was out. She made a note to ask her friend later.

Bucky, already stationed by the coffee pot, flashed a grin as Charlotte waltzed up. "Coffee?" he offered, holding out a mug with a knowing look.

Charlotte raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Second coffee in less than twelve hours?”

Bucky shrugged nonchalantly. "Don’t get used to it," he deadpanned.

“Don’t be such a good barista.” She teased, sipping from her mug before hopping onto the counter beside him.

Their exchange didn't go unnoticed by the rest of the team, who exchanged knowing glances and playful nudges as they observed the interaction.

Sam couldn't resist a quip. "Well, would you look at that? Bucky's finally learned how to share," he teased.

Natasha smirked, shooting Bucky a pointed look. "I guess miracles really do happen.”

Always ready to diffuse a situation, Steve called. "Hey, Charlotte, I meant to tell you," he began, catching her eye. "Tony and Pepper are coming back to the compound later this afternoon. Pepper wants to meet with you.”

Charlotte's eyes widened in surprise. "Really? Why?" she asked.

Steve nodded, his expression reassuring. "Yep. She wants to talk about hosting a press conference. They think it's time to let the world know who you are.” He gave a reassuring smile. “Don’t be nervous, you’ll do great. We’ve all done them. Even Bucky.” He elbowed his friend as he sidled past, plopping down at the head of the table.

Charlotte raised her eyebrows, still looking hesitant. “If you say so.”

“At least you'll look better on TV than Sam," Bucky said dryly, giving her a sidelong look.

Sam bristled at the jab, shooting Bucky a mock glare. "Hey, watch it, Barnes. I'll have you know I've got a face for the big screen," he retorted.

“Is that what they’ve been telling you?” He raised an eyebrow, dodging a swat from Sam’s spatula. Giggling, Charlotte felt slightly more at ease as her friends fell into chaos around her.

_________

Smoothing her shirt, Charlotte approached the sleek conference room with a mixture of anticipation and nervousness. She wasn't sure what to expect from this meeting with Pepper Potts, Tony Stark's famed and formidable right-hand woman. Did she do something wrong? Was she in trouble? The thoughts raced through her mind as she pushed open the door and stepped inside.

"Ms. Rossi, thank you for coming. Please, have a seat," Pepper greeted warmly, gesturing to a chair across from her. She was beautiful, looking equal parts polished and genuine.

Charlotte forced a smile and took a seat, trying to hide her unease. "My friends call me Charlotte, or at least, everyone here does.”

Pepper chuckled. "Alright, Charlotte. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you."

“Likewise.” She raised an eyebrow. “Although I’ll warn you, I’m not overly keen on the idea of a press conference…if that’s what this is about.”

Pepper chuckled again. "It is, but just know there’s no pressure. This is my professional recommendation, if you desire to be a more public part of the team. We’ve had quite a few incidents of public scrutiny over the past several years, and we’ve found that it makes everyone’s lives much easier if we stay ahead of it. And since you’re new here…"

Charlotte leaned back in her chair, adopting a more casual posture. "Then we should get ahead of it before the public can find something to scrutinize."

Pepper smiled. "Exactly."

“Well, let’s hear the game plan, then. You’re the expert.”

Pepper clasped her hands together on the table atop a stack of notes. "Well, with everything that's been happening lately, there's been quite a bit of interest in you."

Charlotte raised an eyebrow. "Me? What’s been happening lately?”

Pepper laughed softly. "Modesty, I see. But yes, your journey has captivated a lot of attention. You were all over the news with your stint in gymnastics, and then you even made a splash as a big fish in Las Vegas, all before disappearing. The internet is very difficult to slip anything past, and it didn’t take long for them to put things together. People love a mystery."

Charlotte tilted her head warily. "That’s one thing to call me."

Pepper smiled. "Indeed. But, we have an opportunity to share your story with the world. On your terms, the way you want it to be told. As much or as little as you’d like to give, anything would help prevent people from writing the narrative for you. Show them who you are before they can tell you."

Charlotte's skepticism showed on her face. "Ah, the old charm offensive, huh?"

Pepper nodded. "Something like that. It's a chance for people to get to know the real Charlotte, not just the headlines they’ll inevitably see if you join the Avengers Initiative."

“Who says I’m joining the Avengers?” She raised an eyebrow.

“I’m very good at my job.” Pepper winked. “And don't worry, you won't be alone. The team and I will be there to support you every step of the way. We’ll prepare you beforehand, be right there to step in if you get uncomfortable or don’t know how to answer something. You have my word.”

Charlotte gave a half smile. "Alright, I'll do it. But if I say something wildly inappropriate or incriminating, I can’t be held responsible.”

Pepper laughed. "Have you met Tony? I don’t think we’ve ever had a press conference without something wildly inappropriate or incriminating. You’ll do just fine.”

#james bucky barnes #avengers #bucky barnes x oc #bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #winter soldier #bucky fluff #sebastian stan #winter soldier fluff

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beefromanoff · 2 months

Text

Project Mockingbird Ch. 14

summary: the aftermath of the attack, the reunion, the recap.

pairing: Bucky Barnes x OC

author's note: hiiii, not much to say with this one, but I have the next chapter ALMOST done as well so be prepared for a double update this week!

tag list: @bangtanxberm @scott-loki-barnes @kayhi808 @charmedbysarge

(let me know if you want to be added <3)

chapter list

_______________________________________

“We need aerial pickup in the woods outside the generator, my coordinates. Get medical ready, tell them we have an incoming Avenger.”

Her eyes flicked up to Bucky at the last word, surprise lighting them up. His face was a standard mask of annoyance mixed with…was that relief? Blue eyes trailed over her body before meeting hers once again. He regarded her for a moment before speaking again.

“So when were you gonna tell me you learned to fly a Quinjet?”

Typical. He does something heroic and chivalrous, but still has the same attitude problem. Some knight in shining armor. “I was waiting t’see if y’brought me a souvenir,” She croaked through her raw, burning throat.

As the smoke from the explosion began to clear, Charlotte's ears were still ringing from the deafening blast. She blinked, trying to regain her bearings as she looked around to assess the damage. Tears streaked through the dirt on her cheeks as her eyes burned, her whole body buzzing at how close she’d come to the end. She’d tried to stand a few moments ago, but nearly vomited at the pain in her ribs. Now seated against the base of a tree, she could feel the pain beginning to cloud her mind as the adrenaline wore off.

"Charlotte, hey, stay with me," Bucky's voice cut through the haze of confusion, filled with concern as he knelt in front of her. “Medical is almost here.”

Groaning, she sat up a little straighter. “Th’shouldn’t come outside the shield,” she paused to cough. “S’too smokey and there could be another detonation. We need t’move.”

Bucky regarded her grimly, eyebrows raised, but didn’t argue. “Okay. C’mon.” He helped Charlotte to her feet, his arm wrapped around her waist, steadying her as she stumbled slightly. She favored her left leg, still peppered with glass from the windshield, putting her arm over his shoulders for stability.

"That was quite the entrance," Charlotte groaned, her voice shaky as she leaned into Bucky's firm grip. “B’you could have stuck the landing a little better."

Bucky offered her a small smile that didn’t meet his eyes, shouldering the majority of her weight as they began to traipse through the shrapnel-littered woods. The pain must be bad if she was cracking jokes, begging for a distraction.

“Y’could have shown up a little sooner, too.” She forced out between shallow breaths.

“We stopped for burgers halfway,” He humored her. “You seemed like you had it handled.” He didn’t mention the way they’d been white-knuckled the whole flight back, nearly silent as they prayed they’d make it in time. The way he’d paced the floor, ready to rip the enemy aircraft apart with his bare hands when he finally got to it. The way he heard those words and was ready to throw himself out of the Quinjet just to get to her. She’s not gonna make it.

“D’you bring me one?” Her weight was getting heavier on his shoulder.

“Yeah. Yeah, we did.” Bucky hoisted her arm higher around his neck, taking more weight off of her leg. “Hope you like mustard.”

As they finally approached the edge of the shield, they were greeted by the sight of a medical cart waiting to transport them back to the safety of the compound. The first rays of dawn were beginning to lighten up the inky sky, breaking up the darkness. When they reached the cart, Charlotte eased herself into the flatbed of the cart with Bucky's assistance, taking a slow breath as she leaned against the edge. Hopping in behind her, Bucky patted the hull of the cart, signaling that they were ready to go.

The journey back to the main building was quiet, the only sound was the hum of the cart's engine and Charlotte’s occasional sharp breaths when they hit a particularly large bump. Bucky didn’t speak, but his eyes clocked every wince, every muscle tensing in her jaw. He glanced up ahead, seeing the compound buildings beginning to come into view.

As Charlotte sat in the medical cart, her mind was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. Her eyes were squeezed tightly shut as the adrenaline that had fueled her during the attack was nearly gone, leaving her feeling drained and emotionally raw.vShe couldn't shake the feeling of disbelief at the suddenness of the attack, the way it had shattered the peace and security of the compound in an instant. It was a stark reminder of the ever-present threat posed by HYDRA, lurking in the shadows, waiting to strike when least expected. She’d allowed herself to get comfortable, to live in the delusion that there was a life after them. That they’d one day stop looking for her and let her go free.

That delusion had brought one of the world’s most dangerous organization to the doorstep of the only people who had offered her a home. A family.

The thought of losing any of them was almost too much to bear, a prospect she couldn't even begin to contemplate. To think that it might have been her fault, her presence that lured them here…she couldn’t even let herself finish the thought.

Rounding the final corner and emerging from the treeline, the hangar and main building grew nearer. With them, the crowd of people gathered in front, clapping and cheering. The sound made Charlotte open her eyes. Standing outside the SHIELD headquarters were the two dozen agents who’d been there through the attack, had been under her assumed command. At the front of the crowd stood Calla, clapping furiously with tears in her eyes. Beside her, still in full battle gear, was Sam, Steve, Nat, Wanda, and Peter. All of them looking beautifully clean and unscathed. All of them cheering. Charlotte felt a wave of relief wash over her, finally accepting that it was over. The cart jolted to a stop, whistles and applause filling her ears. There was a knot in her stomach that she wasn’t ready to address yet, a maelstrom of emotions clawing through her, demanding to be felt. Instead, she focused on the physical feelings. People patting her shoulder, squeezing her hands, sliding under her knees and lifting her out of the cart.

Opening her eyes, Charlotte saw dozens of faces beaming at her. Calla was holding one of her hands, the other was draped around the shoulder of whoever was carrying her. The feeling of vibranium under her knees told her all she needed to know. As Bucky walked through the crowd, they eagerly parted to let her through, the cheers never ceasing. The doors to the medical wing slid open with a whoosh, cool air conditioning wafting over them in contrast to the spring humidity.

In the distance, she could hear Natasha’s voice telling the agents to give her some space, before Steve thanked them for their bravery and asked them to give their statements to Intelligence before heading home for the end of their shift. There was a hallway, a turn, and then she was being gently set down on the all-too-familiar medical bed.

“From what I hear, we just need to put your name on the door,” Calla quipped, washing her hands in the corner.

Charlotte mustered a chuckle, but anything beyond that threatened to set her throat on fire.

“Okay, let’s get you cleaned up. What hurts the most?” Her eyes raked over Charlotte, fingers assessing each wound. Angling her leg, Charlotte nodded to the shards of glass protruding like spikes all down the side. Calla masked her concern like a true professional. “That seems like a good place to start.”

She pulled a stool beneath her and slid her hands into a pair of gloves as Maddie, the lab tech, wheeled in a tray of first aid supplies. “Sargeant, would you mind lending a hand?” Calla looked expectantly up at Bucky.

“Yeah, uh, sure.” He cleared his throat and stepped toward the bed.

“Grab those scissors in the top drawer,” She nodded her head to the counter behind Bucky, shining a small flashlight in Charlotte’s eyes. He obliged, crossing the room to stand beside the bed. “Thank you. I need you to cut the left leg out of Ms. Rossi’s suit.”

“You, wait, what?” Bucky looked incredulous.

“I can’t effectively clean and stitch her up with the suit on, and I can’t take it off while Ms. Rossi still has glass sticking out of her leg. If I pull the glass out before taking the suit off, she’ll lose even more blood.” Her tone was calm but firm as she continued to work, cleaning a wound on Charlotte’s forehead. “So in order to get her taken care of and out of pain as quickly as possible, I need you to take those scissors, cut up the center of her suit, and get me access to the wounds.”

He stood, frozen, beside her bed.

“Now, Sargent.”

With that, he sprung into action. Setting the scissors down at the foot of her bed, nimble fingers unlaced her boots, gently removing them and tossing them to the side. They landed on the floor with a solid thump. Cold metal touched her ankle as he lifted the hem of her suit away from her skin and slid one scissor blade beneath it. His brow was furrowed in concentration as he carefully but quickly cut a line up the top of her leg. As he worked, Maddie tugged the fabric over the glass on the side, freeing the wounds. Once the scissors had reached her thigh, Bucky stopped.

“Good,” Calla pointed. “Now bring the cut around the outside of her thigh so we can peel the fabric back all the way.”

Charlotte could have sworn he flushed, but he did what he was told. Calla pulled the flap of fabric to the side, revealing a mangled mess of her leg. Blood, old and new, caked her skin and dozens of large pieces of glass stuck out the side, running from her ankle nearly to her hip.

“Sargant, one more thing. Could you hand me that towel?” Calla’s tone was warm and calm, smiling as Bucky dropped it into her hand. Offering it to Charlotte, she gave a clear instruction. “Bite down.”

Bringing the towel to her mouth, Charlotte didn’t have time to question before Maddie dumped a copious amount of antiseptic onto her leg, setting her whole body on fire. She bit into the towel so hard her jaw ached, a muffled scream filling the room and setting her throat ablaze. Out of the corner of her watery eyes, she swore she saw Bucky wince. The wave of pain caused sweat to bead across her forehead, her leg throbbing. They made every effort to work quickly, but that did little to quell the agony.

Forcing herself to breathe through her nose, Charlotte clenched her eyes shut, telling herself all the same things she had in the past. Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. It’ll be over in a minute. Pain is just my body telling me something is wrong, and I already know something is wrong. I don’t need the pain. I don’t feel the pain. I don’t feel th-

“Oh, shit,” Sam’s voice called from the doorway, pulling Calla’s eyes up to his for just a split second as she dropped a particularly large shard of glass onto the tray beside her. Steve and Nat pushed into the room, taking in the scene. Charlotte on the bed, eyes closed and sweat dripping as she bit down onto a towel. Calla and Maddie furiously working on her gruesome left leg, one set of hands carefully extracting shrapnel while the other cleaned and stitched the wounds left behind. Bucky standing beside the bed, hands behind his head and a grim look on his face. His helpless eyes met Steve’s and a look passed between them. Guilt? Understanding? Their unspoken conversation was interrupted by Natasha slid a chair bedside, gripping Charlotte’s right hand as her eyes flicked open. They were red from all the smoke, but alert.

“Hell of a showing back there,” Nat gave a reassuring grin, squeezing her hand. Charlotte groaned, rolling her eyes.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you might be born for this ‘saving the world’ gig after all.”

Charlotte shot her a sidelong look, narrowing her eyes. Raising her hands defensively, Nat joked, “Listen, all I’m saying is it took Sam years to learn to fly a Quinjet and Bucky still refuses to use comms correctly. You’ve got ‘em both beat.”

“Hey,” Bucky frowned at her.

“Am I wrong?”

Nat’s attempts to distract everyone from the tense situation were effective. Calla and Maddie had worked their way up Charlotte’s leg, staunching the bleeding and leaving a web of dark stitching and angry red cuts in their wake. As Maddie tied off the final stitch, Calla tugged her gloves off with a snap. “Alright, looks like we salvaged the leg.” She winked at Charlotte. “Let’s take a look at those ribs.”

Attempting to prop herself up on her elbows, Charlotte winced, eyes squeezing shut. Several pairs of hands reached out to support her, Nat being the first to reach her thanks to her proximity.

“Woah, take it easy,” Calla braced her other arm. “Gentlemen, give us a minute?” She nodded to the door, with Steve, Sam, and Bucky filing out obediently. When the door was shut behind them, she returned her gaze to Charlotte. “Is it alright if we go ahead and remove the suit? We’ll put a medical gown on you, I know how much you love those.”

Charlotte scoffed but held her arms out long, granting them permission to tug the sleeves off. With the three sets of gentle female hands and a few more slices from the scissors, her suit lay in a stained and crumbled heap on the floor. For the next fifteen minutes, they set to work cleaning her various cuts and abrasions while Nat held her hand. Charlotte closed her eyes and leaned her head against the pillow, the exhaustion catching up with her. She had a difficult time processing all that had happened in the span of a week. The team leaving for their mission, her outburst with the agents, meeting Calla and finding out the bombshell about her relationship with Sam, learning to fly a Quinjet, the attack in the dead of night, almost being blown up, being rescued by Bucky…again, the heroes reception she’d received when they returned. It was too much for her muddled brain to process at the moment.

“Alright, Char, you’re as good as new. Or at least you will be in a few days.” Calla squeezed her arm. “Thanks, Maddie, you’re good to go back home. Thanks for coming in on such short notice. Take the rest of the day off. Oh, and tell the guys they’re good to come back in.”

“Thanks, Maddie.” Charlotte’s strained voice called after her.

“No problem.” Maddie smiled. “I hope I don’t see you again anytime soon.”

Laughing into a cough, Charlotte adjusted her position against the pillow, the white medical gown just as unflattering as always. Chairs squeaked across the floor as all three men rejoined them and took a position around the bed, looking at her expectantly.

“Good morning,” She raised an eyebrow.

“Good morning.” Steve chucked. “How do you feel?”

“How do I look?”

“Like you just about got blown up,” Sam teased.

“Yeah, not the best way to get blown.” She yawned, ignoring Steve’s choked laugh and Bucky’s raised eyebrow. “But you should see the other guy.”

“I don’t think there’s much left to see.” Nat chimed in.

“Guess that means I did my job.”

“You did great, Charlotte.” Steve’s tone was warm, reassuring. The atmosphere thickened as smiles faded in favor of a more serious tone. “If you hadn’t been here, hadn’t acted when you did…things would have turned out much differently. Thank you.”

“Yeah, I’ve grown pretty fond of this place.” Natasha squeezed her hand. “Thank you for protecting it.”

“This place,” Sam stood and crossed the room to stand by Calla, still typing notes into her computer. “And the people inside it. I owe you one.”

Charlotte smiled. “No, you don’t. I’m pretty fond of it too. The place and the people.” She winked at Calla.

“Sam, something you’d like to tell us?” Steve raised an eyebrow at Sam’s arm draped around Calla’s shoulders.

Chuckling, he met Calla’s eyes. “Guys, this is Dr. Calla Arturo. My fiance.”

Bucky let out a whistle as Steve grinned and stood to hug Sam. Nat simply picked at her nails, winking at the couple, another secret well kept.

“I’m sorry, we have a lot to catch up on, it sounds like. Can someone order breakfast? With coffee?” Charlotte pleaded. “Lots of coffee?”

“Coming right up.” Nat popped up and strode out of the room to make the order.

Half an hour later, feet still clad in combat boots were propped on the edge of Charlotte’s bed, the smell of coffee filling the air. A cart sat full of discarded, empty dishes near the door. The food was all but devoured the minute it was wheeled into the room. Now that everyone had given up on going back to sleep as the morning stretched on, Calla made a round, refilling everyone’s coffee before taking a seat beside Sam.

“So we get to the source of the tremors, and we find nothing. Nada. Zip. It’s a complete ghost town,” Sam explained. “At first, we thought maybe they took everything underground, or it was cloaked somehow. We ran every scan possible, combed through the whole one hundred mile radius. We found nothing. So we camped out overnight, figured we’d do the same thing the next day.”

“We reviewed the initial reports of seismic activity, and sure enough, we were at the exact coordinates.” Nat shrugged. “It seemed like a fluke, somehow the coordinates got skewed. We were positive we missed something, kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, and then…”

“We got the distress signal from SHIELD.” Bucky met Charlotte’s eyes. “The signal that the compound was under attack.”

“That was when we knew it was a decoy.” Steve’s eyes looked pained. “We knew it was an attempt to lure us away, leave it vulnerable. The furthest point away without going off-planet. We were just lucky it wasn’t a trap.”

“So we got the hell out of dodge and came back here.” Nat’s gaze was unfocused, remembering. “We flew back as quickly as we could, we were on the live comm feed with the command center. We heard everything that was going on.”

Charlotte’s blood chilled. They’d listened to everything. Had she sounded like a complete rookie? Her adrenaline had been pumping so strongly, she couldn’t conjure more than a hazy recollection of what she said.

“We didn’t think we would make it in time.” Steve was somber. “We heard you go back, try to extract the information. When they kept counting down and you still hadn’t gotten out…we were still flying over the woods outside the shield. It wouldn’t have been possible for us to get the jet to the landing pad and get out to you, and there was nowhere to land it with all the trees around you.” He glanced at Bucky, who’d set his jaw defiantly. “As you know, Bucky decided to take matters into his own hands.”

Charlotte raised her eyebrows at Bucky, waiting for him to chip in.

“If I would have known saving you would be this demanding of a job, I would have asked for a raise.” His dry tone was nothing new, but for some reason it struck her wrong.

“I don’t remember calling for your help, Sergeant.”

“I think the words you’re looking for are ‘thank you’.”

“Gee, thanks, should I replace our next training session with an hour of groveling and falling at your feet? That seems to be the reaction you’re looking for.”

“As tempting as that sounds, I think you’ve done enough falling for a while.” He nodded his head at the wrapped, gauzy mess that was her left leg. Charlotte’s hands curled into fists, gripping her coffee mug so tight the ceramic creaked.

“Anyways,” Natasha cut in pointedly. “We made a note to keep parachutes in every Quinjet from now on, but thankfully, Cap’s shield did the trick this time. We don’t want to lose anyone. We’re a team. A family.” The last word seemed to be directed straight at Bucky, her eyes staring daggers at him, a warning not to be so…Bucky.

“And now you’re caught up.” Sam joined. “Now tell us what we missed, because clearly it was quite a bit.”

Calla raised her eyebrows at Charlotte, grinning. They exchanged a look, debating who should launch into the story first. It was Calla who took over, unable to keep her excitement at bay. She told them about her quiet morning after Sam and the rest of the group left, how she’d gone to get coffee and found Charlotte about to choke out one of the agents. A collective groan came from the group when she told them which one. His ego didn’t exactly fly under the radar in their training sessions, either. She told them about Charlotte’s flying lessons, missing surprisingly few details, and their dinner at her apartment, then the ultimate interruption of the attack.

Calla nodded in agreement, her expression grave as she recalled the moment they had felt the first explosion rock the city. "Charlotte didn't hesitate for a second," she said, her voice tinged with admiration. "It’s like she just…locked in. She took off running before I could even process what was happening, started giving orders the whole way. She’s a natural” Calla gave Charlotte a watery smile. “She made sure everyone had explicit instructions to keep the shields up even if she went down. She flew out not knowing what she’d see or if she’d come back. Everyone is right to call her a hero."

Charlotte winced slightly at the word. It felt unfamiliar, foreign. It wasn’t a good fit. Not when she felt like she’d barely escaped with her life. If it hadn’t been for Bucky, she wouldn’t have. Prick as he might be, he was right. He had saved her. Again.

Bucky remained silent for the most part, his gaze fixed on Charlotte as she and the others watched Calla recount the events. There was a fire in his eyes, a barely contained anger. Had Charlotte glanced over to see it, she might think it was directed at her. A result of her handling the situation poorly, or not acting as he would have. It was Steve, however, that looked over at him, seeing something else entirely. Bucky wasn’t a touchy-feely person, that much was blatantly apparent. That didn’t mean he didn’t feel at all. In fact, he felt more deeply than most people, the love for those he cared about able to blind him at times. As he sat and watched his friend watch the dark-haired girl on the medical bed, he just knew.

His friend was utterly blinded by what he was feeling. Nat raised her mug. “To Charlotte Rossi, Mockingbird, Avenger of the Avengers.” A chorus of agreement sounded around the room, mugs clinking in the air.

“To Charlotte.”

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