Story cover for Night Owl ☾ Bucky Barnes by seijroo
Night Owl ☾ Bucky Barnes
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    Reads 6,858
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    Parts 14
  • WpHistory
    Time 1h 17m
  • WpView
    Reads 6,858
  • WpVote
    Votes 266
  • WpPart
    Parts 14
  • WpHistory
    Time 1h 17m
Ongoing, First published May 06, 2014
I hummed as Bucky wrapped his arms around my waist from behind me. His embrace was warm and comforting, one that I knew that I would miss. We swayed to Frank Sinatra, which was playing on the record player in the other room. Bucky's soft voice tickled my ear. "I haven't seen this dress in a while."

I smiled when he recognized the outfit. "How do I look, Sergeant?" 

Bucky spun me around to get a better look. "Lovely," he complimented. "I always liked you in blue," he said gently as we continued to dance. His clear blue eyes sparkled in adoration as he looked into mine. "I like how it brings out your eyes."

"Really?" My cherry lips turned into a cheeky grin. "Do you tell Steve that, too?"

Bucky rolled his eyes at me, ruining our romantic moment but donned a goofy smile. "All the time."

+======+======+

Ann Rogers knew that her boyfriend, Bucky Barnes, had to leave for war, but she was comforted by the fact that like always, she would have her older brother at her side. To her surprise, she was left all alone in Brooklyn when Steve actually gets accepted into the army, and her two boys left for Europe. 

She tries her best to keep herself together, but years pass and the two men in her life never returned home. The little diner Ann works at is full of newly returned veterans and their new families, and Anne longs for the life she could have had. In her struggle to keep going, she has an accident, turning her into one of the mid-20th century's greatest weapons: Night Owl
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Punching Bag by kensy_lane
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"Hold on!" He asks vehemently. "What do you want?" I ask, irritated. His blue eyes widen and still manage to shine in the dim moonlight, his dark, golden hair looking like a halo on his head. America's golden boy he is. He hesitates at my question, as if he doesn't even know himself. "Why don't you come back with me? I can get you some food, a warm bed, some clean clothes?" He offers kindly. I look at him skeptically. "Back where? Your ivory tower?" I sass. He presses his lips together before jumping to the other dumpster. "Look, I just want to help. It doesn't matter what the press says. They get a lot wrong anyway." He shoots a smile down at me to try and win me over. "Well, that's wonderfully patriotic of you," I hop down and start walking down the alley away from him. "but no thanks." I slip my thumbs under the straps of my backpack and clutch on. Steve Rogers appears next to me in seconds, walking with me. I create distance between us, making sure we don't touch. Before he opens his mouth, I stop us both, my temper flaring up. "Look, I have no interest in being your charity case. I don't want to be in the press, used as an example of how good the Avengers are, or any of that shit. I just want to be left alone!" I huff, pulling my backpack tighter against my back to resist punching Captain America. Steve's eyes go to my still bloody knuckles in the dim light and his eyebrows furrow even further. "Oh, dear god." I complain at seeing more concern on his face. Before he can put a gentle hand on my shoulder and give me a rousing speech about justice or something I kick him hard in the balls. As soon as he leans over I start sprinting. I reach another dumpster and jump on top of it, then leap to the nearest fire escape. Then, I'm on the roof and feel like I'm flying. Some people've gotta learn the hard way; not everyone wants to be saved. SEQUEL 'Into the Ring' IS UP NOW! *I DO NOT OWN THE AVENGERS. ONLY THE CHARACTERS AND SITUATIONS I CREATE.*
The Way He Looks At You by BluePhoenix97
7 parts Complete Mature
(Short Story!!) It had always been a strange thing, growing up with stories about two men who seemed larger than life. Your grandmother never called them "Captain America" or "the Winter Soldier." To her, they were just Steve and Bucky-the boys who used to race down Brooklyn streets barefoot, who could eat their weight in ice cream, who once spent a summer building a treehouse that barely stayed up until autumn. She spoke about them with warmth, never shying away from the fact that life had pulled them into wars-one they chose, one they didn't. As you got older, you saw clips, grainy photos, shaky cell phone footage of Bucky Barnes in black tactical gear, a metal arm flashing in the light. You read the reports, the headlines about the destruction, the redemption, the battles the Avengers fought to save the world. You didn't expect to ever meet them. Not until 2025, when your grandmother passed away. Steve came to her funeral-looking exactly as he had in the old photographs, like time had politely stepped aside for him. And with him was another man, standing half a step behind, dressed in a dark suit. He didn't seem entirely comfortable being there, his jaw set, his eyes darting between the crowd and the coffin draped in flowers. Bucky Barnes. From the way Steve's hand rested briefly on his shoulder before introducing you, you knew he hadn't planned on coming. But he had. And when he looked at you, really looked, you felt the air shift. Because his gaze lingered just a fraction too long. Because his breath caught in his chest. Because in that moment, you knew what he saw- The spitting image of your grandmother. The girl he had once known before the wars. But you were not her. You were twenty-four. And when his eyes softened, the rest of the world seemed to fall away.
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Punching Bag

23 parts Complete

"Hold on!" He asks vehemently. "What do you want?" I ask, irritated. His blue eyes widen and still manage to shine in the dim moonlight, his dark, golden hair looking like a halo on his head. America's golden boy he is. He hesitates at my question, as if he doesn't even know himself. "Why don't you come back with me? I can get you some food, a warm bed, some clean clothes?" He offers kindly. I look at him skeptically. "Back where? Your ivory tower?" I sass. He presses his lips together before jumping to the other dumpster. "Look, I just want to help. It doesn't matter what the press says. They get a lot wrong anyway." He shoots a smile down at me to try and win me over. "Well, that's wonderfully patriotic of you," I hop down and start walking down the alley away from him. "but no thanks." I slip my thumbs under the straps of my backpack and clutch on. Steve Rogers appears next to me in seconds, walking with me. I create distance between us, making sure we don't touch. Before he opens his mouth, I stop us both, my temper flaring up. "Look, I have no interest in being your charity case. I don't want to be in the press, used as an example of how good the Avengers are, or any of that shit. I just want to be left alone!" I huff, pulling my backpack tighter against my back to resist punching Captain America. Steve's eyes go to my still bloody knuckles in the dim light and his eyebrows furrow even further. "Oh, dear god." I complain at seeing more concern on his face. Before he can put a gentle hand on my shoulder and give me a rousing speech about justice or something I kick him hard in the balls. As soon as he leans over I start sprinting. I reach another dumpster and jump on top of it, then leap to the nearest fire escape. Then, I'm on the roof and feel like I'm flying. Some people've gotta learn the hard way; not everyone wants to be saved. SEQUEL 'Into the Ring' IS UP NOW! *I DO NOT OWN THE AVENGERS. ONLY THE CHARACTERS AND SITUATIONS I CREATE.*