Three Pointer 1
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Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, power imbalance, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: When you go down to see your brother at the basketball courts, you find yourself drawn into a game you don't quite understand.
Characters: Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes
Note: I meant this to be one part but it should only be 2 or 3 at most. My mind is a bit addled. Without having to go into the pain, I lost someone dear to me.
As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.
Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.
I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖
Photo Sources: #1 #2
The bounce of rubber on pavement greets your approach. You come to the chain link fence and peer through, searching among the courts for one person in particular. Your brother is there with his usual crowd; three-on-three.
Your anxiety twists in your gut. There’s always so many people down here. So many strangers.
You enter through the gate, the hinges whining high, and you pass by the benches of those waiting for their go or watching. As you keep your head low, a whoosh blows past your nose. You step back and look up as the ball bounces off fence behind the benches.
You glance over as a man catches it. You blanches show your palms. ‘Sorry’, you mouth, your voice trapped up inside your chest.
He echoes you out loud. “You okay?”
You stare at him. His dark aviators reflect the sunlight and his sleeves are rolled up over his sweaty shoulders. You finally find the sense to nod. You should pay attention.
You slowly sidle past him. He backs up and watches you before slowly turning around. He tosses the ball to another man. He catches it and flips it into the net with no effort at all.
You trip as you notice the other man’s arm. At first you think it’s tattoos but they shine like that. It’s metal. You can see a hint of the scarring where it meets his flesh, just beneath the black cotton of his tank top.
You turn and put your head down again. It isn’t nice to stare. You know you don’t like when people do.
Your brother, Carter, is in the next court. As you glance up, he’s squinting at you. You frown. What did you do now?
You stop at the corner as Trevor calls his name. Carter sneers and turns to grab the ball out of the air. He aims and shoots. It bounces off the backboard and Hakeem catches it with a chirp, “Looking sharp.”
“Whatever,” Carter puffs. “I need water.”
He flicks his fingers in frustration and stomps toward you. He wipes his forehead with his arm. He ignores you as he grabs his worn-out gatorade bottle.
“Chu doin’ here?” He growls before he squirts a stream into his mouth.
“You said come get you around seven.”
He swallows loudly, his eyes darting behind you. “Did I?”
“I thought--”
“Why were you bugging those guys?” He asks.
You peek back. The man in the sunglasses makes a three-pointer. You shake your head as you face your brother.
“I wasn’t--”
“You needa go home. You don’t even like basketball,” he accuses. “No one needs you in the way. ‘Specially not them.”
“You never ask me to play,” you shrug.
“And who wants to play with you?” He rolls his eyes.
You pout and nod. You wouldn’t be very good, would you?
“Well, it’s seven. I just came to say so like you wanted.”
“Sure. If Tonya shows, just send her here.” He spits.
“Right.”
You don’t like how he treats you like his time-keeper and his messenger. You don’t like Tonya either. Or many of his friends for that matter. They’re like him. You only live together because you got no choice. You can’t afford your own place.
You spin and head back for the gate. Before you can reach it, the same man as before approaches you. He uses his shirt to wipe his face. Your eyes stray for just a moment, cheeks tinging at the sight of his muscled stomach.
“Hey,” he tugs the hem down. “You wanna sub in? I needa sit.”
“Huh?” You stop short and look at him. “Me?”
“Sure. If you don’t mind? My buddy hates to wait on me,” he points over his shoulder with his thumb.
“Well I... I don’t play much. Just come down to watch my brother,” you explain.
“Oh, well, my buddy isn’t very good either,” he chuckles. “Just for two minutes.”
You look at him. His beard is damp with sweat and a trickle runs down his temple. You look at the other man dribbling, watching you.
“Okay.” You don’t like to argue. Carter always wants to and you’re over it.
“Steve, by the way,” he introduces himself as he grabs his water bottle and sits.
You give your name before you crane to see across the court. You turn and near the other man, waving shyly. “Uh, hi.”
“He’s sending in a ringer,” the other man bounces the ball then catches it. “What’s your name, doll?”
You repeat it again.
“Bucky,” he replies. You blink as something in your mind tweaks. That’s familiar. “You start.”
He bounces the ball and you barely get your hands around it. He bends his knees and gets into a guard position. You stare at him. You don’t know what you’re doing.
You dribble, clumsily, and try to angle around him. He moves easily with you. You try to divert but only get your foot under the ball. It veers off and hurtles into next court.
Bucky chases it as you scrunch up your hand and press it to your chin. He scoops up the ball and Carter turns. He says something but you can’t make it up. Bucky barely acknowledges and turns, giving a somewhat flummoxed face.
“I’m sorry,” you eke out.
Your eyes linger beyond him. Carter watches you with a scowl. He gestures, somewhere between disbelief and agitation.
“Don’t be sorry,” Bucky says. “Gotta start somewhere. How about we go over the basics before you wipe the floor with me?”
“I’m not very good,” you mumble.
“Come on, I’ll show you.” He looks you up and down. “Stand here.”
He taps the ground with the toe of his sneaker. You shuffle around to stand at the peak of the curved line. He takes the ball and stands parallel to you.
“Watch my hands,” he directs.
You do. You try not to gape at his metal knuckles as the plates contract with his movements.
“Hold like this, then flick your wrist.” He makes the shot easy and the ball pings back to him. “Look at that square above the hoop. That’ll help.”
He hands over the ball. You hesitate but take it, fingers brushing his. You take a breath and focus on the box on the backboard.
This is going to be so bad. You were never good in gym class but you liked trying for fun. With all these people around, watching, it’s not so fun.
You try. That’s all you can do. It hits the backboard, then the hoop, then once more goes to the side. Bucky hurries to catch it. He bounces it as he turns to you again.
“Close.”
“I’m taking up your time,” you stand on your toes and teeter.
“Nah, I don’t mind.” He holds out the ball. Once more, you accept it and resign yourself to failure. He steps back. “Take your time.”
You do, take your time. You stare, contemplating space and time and all the odds against you. You should’ve just gone home like Carter said.
You flick your wrist. You look down at the pavement before the ball can deflect. You hear it hit and the net swooshes.
“Yeah,” Bucky claps. “Good one.”
You flinch and lift your chin, “it went in?”
“Sure did,” he grabs the ball. “You’re a natural.”
“Good job,” Steve praises as he approaches.
“Oh, um, he showed me how.” You sway. “Thanks uh... for letting me try, but... I’ll leave ya be.”
“What? You’re just getting started. Come on, I’ll show you a layup,” Steve insists.
“Well, I don’t know...” you say.
You hear a snort. You peek over your shoulder. Carter is watching. Bucky twists around to see too. Your brother shies away and smiles at the man. He only gets a shake of the head in return.
“That one your brother?” Steve nudges you gently.
“Er, yeah, Carter,” you answer.
“Why doesn’t he let you play with him?” Bucky asks.
You chew your lip. “Like I said, I’m not very good.”
“Not having practice doesn’t mean not good,” Steve says. “Besides, it’s not the NBA. It’s fun.” He takes the ball. “Now let’s work on your layup.”
🏀
You dribble and stop. You can sense Steve and Bucky coming in from both sides. You hurl the ball up with only the intent to deter them. It spins high into the sky and arcs back down. To your surprise, is drops right through the net.
“Ha,” Steve stops it between his hands, “got us again.”
“You don’t have to let me win,” you say.
“Let you? Nah, we wouldn’t do that.” Bucky says.
“Even if we are, means we get to buy you celebratory drink, right?”
“What?” You laugh, “no, you don’t have to--”
“Hey, sis,” Carter interrupts. “Headed home. You coming?”
You slowly turn. Really?
“We can get her home,” Bucky rebuffs. “We’re just wrapping up.”
“Oh, sure, Barnes,” your brother laughs nervously. “Just didn’t want her walking home alone.”
Your cheek pinches. Since when was he so concerned? Something else needles in your brain...
“We can get her home,” Steve intones.
You glance at him, then Bucky. It dawns on you. You turn to your brother.
“I’ll be home soon,” you say.
His face falls, “oh, sure. Just... be safe, sis.”
“Okay,” you utter.
He lingers, waiting, and when no one stops him, he goes. You watch him until he’s gone then turn to Bucky. He looks back at you calmly.
“I know who you are,” you say. “Both of you.”
“Figured it was obvious,” Bucky laughs.
“Maybe, but... unexpected.”
“We’ve been coming to this court since it opened in 1936.” Steve says.
“Uh, of course,” you cringe. “I only meant... I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” Steve chides. “We’ve been away, we know all the best places around, so why don’t we take you for the best drink in the borrough?”
“That’s... nice. I don’t drink though. Never tried it, to be honest.”
“How about ice cream, then? Alcohol doesn’t do too much for us. Not with our biology.” Bucky suggests.
“I... alright.”
“I know, not much fun hanging out with old men,” Steve snickers.
“No, I don’t mean...”
“Kidding,” Steve says. “It’s just around the corner. I’m sure you know the place.”
Steve keeps the ball and grabs his water bottle from the bench. Bucky takes his bottle too and they walk on either side of you across the courts. As you come out to the street, the evening begins to set in.
You head north then just around the corner. You’ve been to the ice cream bar before. It’s a bit too expensive for you so you usually get one scoop in a cup, no toppings.
Steve holds the door. You enter ahead of both of them. You stop and browse the menu. You should try something new.
“Know what you want?” Bucky asks. “This guy always gets vanilla.”
“Can’t go wrong with a classic.” Steve says.
“Nah, just gets boring,” Bucky snorts. “I’m thinking caramel brittle. Sounds interesting.”
You nod and think. It goes silent as the shop employee awkwardly pretends to stack cups behind the counter. You shift and clear your throat.
“Strawberries and cream?” You say as you reach into your pocket.
“Our treat,” Steve insists. “Sprinkles? Waffle cone?”
“Just a cup is good,” you assure him.
“Got it. Buck, find a seat.” Steve hands over his water bottle.
“Come on, doll.” Bucky gestures you away.
You go back out to the patio area and find a table. Bucky sits across from you and put the bottles on the table. You hook one foot behind the other and lean your elbows on the wood.
“You live around here?” Bucky asks. You nod and rein in your wandering eyes. “Used to,” he says as he combs back his dark hair. The patch of grey in his beard catches the receding sunlight. “It’s rougher than it was.”
“It’s not too bad,” you say. You just double check the locks and get home before dark.
“Things are different for pretty girls. Can never be too careful.”
Your brows pop up. He means you?
“Oh, thanks, but... I’m fine, you know?”
“I’m sure you can take care of yourself,” he grins.
The door chimes as someone comes out. Steve sits beside you and doles out the ice creams. He got yours in a waffle bowl. That’s the most expensive.
“Good game,” Steve says.
“Yeah, fun,” you agree as you poke the ice cream with a spoon. “Thanks for letting me play.”
“We should do it again. You know, this guy, he’s a bit dull. It’s nice having a buffer.”
“Me?” Steve exclaims. “Whatever.”
They both laugh as you can only offer a smile. You like them. Even if you feel like an outsider, it’s not because of them. You just always feel that way.
🏀
Bucky and Steve walk you home. Another pang of guilt pulls at your chest but you’re happy they came with you. It’s dark. Things are both quiet and too noisy. You swear you can hear other footsteps.
You stop just at the edge of the overgrown lawn. Carter was supposed to mow it but you’ll probably end up doing it again. You don’t need another notice from the landlord.
At least it’s dark. They can’t see how cruddy the house really is. You sway.
“Um, good night, then.”
“We’ll walk you to the door. It’s only right.” Steve says.
“We’re old-fashioned like that.” Bucky adds.
“Oh, alright.”
You wait a moment then head up the walk. They follow. The front stairs groan under your weight, then theirs. You get to the top and turn around.
“Thanks again.” You say. “I had a good night.”
“We did too,” Bucky assures.
“Sure di--”
The door behind you opens. Yellow light pores out and casts Carter’s shadow over you. You cringe.
“About time, sis. You left dishes in the sink—oh, you’re here.” He nearly chokes as he notices the men on the porch with you.
“You’re not very nice, are you?” Bucky hisses.
“What? No. I was reminding her. It’s her turn.” He pushes the screen door out and you move out of the way. “You guys wanna come in. I got beer.”
“You could do the dishes,” Steve growls.
“Huh? She said--”
“Please,” you pipe up. “Really, it’s not a big deal. You two should head home. It’s late. Carter, I’ll do the dishes.”
“They your dishes or his?” Bucky challenges.
You blanch and shake your head.
“Um, well, just dishes,” you answer.
“No way to treat family.” Bucky mutters.
“No, it’s not,” Steve agrees.
“I’ll do em,” Carter’s voice squeaks. “It’s no big deal. Come on, sis. You’re right, it’s late--”
“No. No. She’s not going inside.” Bucky says.
“What? Really, it’s... fine.” You argue.
“She’s coming with us. Shouldn’t be living in a place like this,” Steve exhales.
“It’s--”
“Not with him.” Bucky snarls.
“But--” You begin.
“Doll, you just settle down. This is what we do. We save people.” Bucky drawls.
“And we know what it looks like when someone needs saving,” Steve puts in. “You come with us.”
“And you,” Bucky jabs a finger at your brother. “Better not see you again.”
“Me? She’s my sister--”
“Nah,” Bucky grabs your arm. “She’s not yours anymore.”
