Rosesinbloom18 - Roses In Bloom

SEBASTIAN STAN The Falcon and The Winter Soldier - Gag Reel

Y/N: Bro, dude, homie, man, calm down.

Bucky: *eye twitching* I’m your boyfriend.

community notes are so brutal. tumblr needs to add that feature to escalate our pvp capabilities

Holy fucking shit

This Steve

With this Bucky

@georgiapeach30513

Kept it going or come up with a story line

Second Best 4

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Lee Bodecker

Summary: The newly-single sheriff sets his eye on an unexpected match.

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

‘Really. Ur gonna ignore me.’

The latest in Greta’s endless texts pops up. Thankfully, the shitty reception blocks out most of them and they dump in bunches you can easily swipe away. You ignore her shallow pleas for the carnation badge you’ve been diligently stitching away at.

Your eyes are bleary from squinting and the fatigue tugging at the corners. Another day at the hotel leaves you with barely enough energy to enjoy your time off the clock. You pick away at the pink petals until your head threatens to split from the deep furrow in your brows.

You sigh and pack up your kit, setting it aside and pushing yourself off the floor. Ugh, you’re too young to be this achy. You yawn and stagger out of your room, puttering through the house lazily. It isn’t until you get to the kitchen that you notice the silence.

There’s an unbaked meatloaf on the counter, the oven preheated, and potatoes half-peeled. What the hell? You take a bottle of orange cream soda from the fridge, the special ones your mom gets you, and set off in search of your parents.

Your father’s voice is the crumb trail that leads you to your quarry. Your dad’s on the front porch, hands on the railing as your mother stands at his shoulder. The screen door snaps shut behind you, announcing your arrival abruptly. You follow their gaze to the police cruiser pull across the driveway.

“What’s going on?” You ask as you twist the cap off the bottle.

“We should be asking you,” your mother turns with arms crossed.

“What do you–”

“Taught you better than to steal,” your father hisses as he shifts back to glare at you.

“What are you talking about?” You shake your head.

“Now, now, we ain’t laying any charges…yet,” Bodecker comes up to the steps, previously obscured by the tall post, “just some questions.”

“Questions? About?” You hold the cream soda, untasted. “Mom, dad?”

“Go on,” your dad sneers, “talk to him.”

“Honey,” your mother turns on you, “so disappointed.”

“I didn’t do anything…” you murmur.

“Maybe ya didn’t but I still needa ask ya some stuff,” Bodecker insists, a sneaky wink behind your parents’ back.

You huff. What do you do? You could refuse and tell them how he tried to chase you down in his cruiser but you really don’t think it’s any more believable than it was yesterday. You tramp across the porch and descend the steps, staring at the sheriff.

He beckons you away from the porch. You follow warily. You don’t trust him but you know refusing will only make you look worse. It’s grade school all over again. Your parents always believed the principal over you.

“How ya doin’, darlin’?” He asks as he puts a hand on his hip, kicking out one foot as his stance pushes out his stomach further.

“What are you doing here?”

“Ain’t no way to speak to an officer,” he girds, “ah, ya know, we gotta call from the grocer… says someone snatched some gummy bears on their way out with a cone.”

“Huh?” 

“It’s just candy but it’s still a crime,” he tuts.

“I wouldn’t– I didn’t–” You sputter.

He smirks. Is he lying? Or did Greta swipe something? You wouldn’t put it past either of them.

“I’m not accusin’ you, I just wanted to give you the chance to clear your name,” he taunts.

“You know it wasn’t me,” you utter.

“Do I? I barely know ya,” he scoffs, “and it ain’t for lack of trying.”

“The store has cameras, doesn’t it?” 

“Mm, I thought so but turns out they’re decorative. Deterrent more than functional,” he snickers as he reaches to adjust the bolo tie at his collar, “so all I got to go on is eye witnesses. Supposed I could ask Grety girl.”

The pet name makes your stomach churn. Greta will already be pissed at you for snubbing her, you don’t doubt she’ll happily throw you under the bus, or the police cruiser, for a two dollar bag of candy.

“And if I tell you the truth, that it wasn’t me,” you challenge.

“Your word against hers,” he shrugs, “isn’t it?”

You look at him. His eyes gleam victoriously. He’s got you in a corner. You glance over as your dad sits on the porch, your mother’s shadow behind the screen door.

“What do you want?” You ask as you face him again.

“Just a ride along, darling,” he says, “won’t take long at all.”

You frown, your tongue bitter. You shudder and blow through your lips. What choice do you have?

“I’ll have you back by curfew, don’t you worry,” he chuckles.

“Fine,” you sniff, “fine, I… just need to grab some shoes.”

“Good girl,” he praises and reaches for the bottle in your hand. He takes it and sucks on the neck, downing nearly half of it, “sweet…” he muses, “bet you’re sweeter.”

You scowl and turn away from him. He can have the damn cane soda. You stomp towards the porch as he strides coolly behind you. Your mother opens the door as you approach.

“She’s just gonna come make a statement at the station,” Bodecker explains, “ain’t nothing wrong. Just to clear her name.”

“Oh,” your mother touches her chest daintily.

“We’re not paying no fines for you, girl,” your father growls.

You sidle past your mom and grab your slip-ons. You toss them on the porch and step into them before stomping back to the steps. You don’t say a word. You don’t need the sheriff digging you a bigger hole.

“Shouldn’t be none of that,” Bodecker says, “but she might wanna get better friends.”

You march towards the cruiser defiantly. He’s right. You wouldn’t be in this mess if it wasn’t for Greta. But she isn’t your biggest problem. No, he’s got your soda and a smirk on his face.