celestialseph

[celestialseph]

hymn to virgil (part x)

masterlist ✨ ao3

pairing: Yelena Belova x Fem!Witch!reader

summary: Yelena is notoriously difficult to get close to- she has a hard time opening up or connecting with all she's been through. However, after two years of working together, she... seems to have a soft spot for you? What you don't know is that your teammates have started to take note of this, and after a mishap on a mission, you start to think that maybe something is up with the former widow.

warnings: little to no descriptors of reader’s features, no use of y/n, canon typical violence, canon divergence (lots), knives, cursing, fluff, Yelena's a Simp, Bucky is a good friend, inaccuracies about the Sentry project, mentions of death, tags will be added as we go!!

word count: 1.5k

authors note: this chapter gets slightly dark? so TW for mentions of death.

i also want to thank you all again for how much love you have shown this silly story. i fear that this will end up being much longer than originally intended, but i truly love these little idiots so much, and there are so many ideas swirling around in my head about them. enjoy <3

Bucky was not happy when he reviewed the camera footage from Bob’s room in the infirmary. 

He’d gone full dad mode, sitting you and Yelena down for a very stern talk about how you ‘should have asked before going in there,’ because ‘anything could have happened.’

You’d snapped a bit in return, reiterating that you knew him and knew he wouldn’t hurt you. 

Barnes then reminded you that Bob had, in fact, killed you back when you were at Sentry Project. 

“Bucky, it was not his fault! We were effectively brainwashed, and really I was just collateral damage,” you sigh.

“The explosion… it wasn’t meant to kill me.”

You hadn’t made eye contact with Yelena in a moment, but you could see the deep frown on her face in your periphery as she listened. 

“It was a fluke, wasn’t supposed to happen. The project leaders had essentially made Sentry and I a team,” you continue. “Our powers worked well together, and we got along better than anyone else. The other test subject… she knew our weaknesses, and was picking up on how we staggered our hits.”

You look away from Bucky, seeing the pained expression in his eyes. 

He knew what it was like to be under someone else’s control.

So did Yelena.

“We both threw a shot at her at the same time. She deflected my magic towards Bob, and in turn, he sent it towards the ceiling.” You gesture as you speak, visibly showing the two the interaction.

It’s hard to think about. The blackness.

The emptiness you felt in the moments you had been dead.

It was peaceful. Quiet.

You lean up a little straighter in your chair as you wrap up the story. “From my point of view, it hit a light overhead. It caused a spark, and next thing I knew I was in a box.” 

Yelena looks away, and you think you hear her sniffle.

“Just, being shipped off to wherever you and Wilson found me.” You stop your gesturing, and nod to Bucky.

“How did we not have any records of this?” He asks. 

You start to pick at the fabric on the arm of your chair. This is not something you enjoy talking about, and you’ll take any distraction you can get.

“I don’t know how they did it,” you say as you shrug. “I’m sure they covered their tracks, everyone there was… slippery, to say the least.”

The blonde finally speaks up from next to you. 

“I am so sorry,” she whispers.

Then, she places a hand on top of yours to help your fidgeting. 

Bucky’s lips twitch into the start of a smile before he schools himself.

“Don’t apologize,” you reply. “Sure, it was unfortunate, but look where it brought me.” 

You use your free hand to gesture at the two of them this time. 

“I somehow ended up here, surrounded by some of the only people who can understand what I’ve gone through.”

“And,” you continue, “I gave me a family who cares about me.”

“Jesus…” Bucky mutters. “C’mere, kid.”

He stands, and rounds the table, pulling you into a crushing hug. 

You melt into him, and attempt to hold back your tears. 

“Sorry for getting upset,” James says as he rubs your back gently. “I just get worried about you guys, and want to make sure you stay safe.”

He grasps your shoulders and moves to where he can see your face as he speaks again.

“Promise me you’ll tell Sam that I talked some sense into you, okay?”

A chuckle slips out of you as you wipe away the wetness on your cheeks. 

“Okay,” you say with a nod.

“And you-” he points to Yelena, continuing to speak, but in Russian. 

You’re not sure what Bucky tells her, but he sounds serious.

The blonde responds in the foreign language, her tone steady as she stands. 

“Now go get some rest,” Barnes tells you, in English once again. “And don’t go visiting the new guy until we clear him. Understood?”

You shoot him a mock salute. “Aye aye, Sergeant Bucky.”

Yelena snorts behind you, but straightens up when the other assassin shoots her a glare. 

“Get out before I take my hug back.” He waves you both out the door, and you send a smile back at him as you walk out.

Yelena holds the door open, and allows you to lead as the two of you head towards the elevator.

“I…” she starts, “You have gone through so much.”

She pauses, clearly thinking about how she wants to word her next statement. 

“You have stayed kind, through it all. That’s very admirable.”

The elevator opens, and Yelena presses the button for your floor. 

“I could say the same thing about you, Lena,” you respond. 

She reaches for your hand as your gazes meet. 

You welcome the touch.

The ding indicating that you’ve arrived at your destination comes all too soon, but you don’t release her hand. 

The assassin falters for just a millisecond before asking, “Do… you want me to walk you to your room?”

You’re already getting out of the elevator, and you tug at her hand instead of responding, urging her to follow.

She seems to hesitate again as you make it to your room, like she’s unsure if you want her to come in or not. 

You examine her for a moment, and then quickly wrap your arms around her. 

Yelena is stiff until she feels the tips of your fingers dig into her lightly. 

Wanda had taught you that ages ago- told you that by doing this, it conveys just how much you’re invested in this moment.

She finally gives in, placing one arm between your shoulderblades and the other above your hip. 

The two of you stand there outside your open door, holding each other close and matching the other’s breathing.

You’re not sure if it’s been minutes or an eternity, but you want to stay right here forever. 

You’ve never felt more safe.

Yelena takes a deep breath, and quietly asks, “Can I braid your hair?”

An involuntary laugh leaves you. “I don’t see why not?”

She steps away, and you instantly miss how warm she was against you.

“I am sorry, you don’t have to,” she mutters. “It feels silly, but I am going insane! I cannot braid my hair properly anymore. It is so fucking short.”

“No, no, it’s okay!” You reply. “I would love that right now, it’ll feel like I’m at a spa.”

The blonde chuckles in return, and follows you into your room. 

You sit down on the floor in front of the couch, giving her space to sit on it behind you.

Yelena gets to work quickly; parting your hair into sections and beginning to lace them together. 

Your eyes close as she masterfully twists the strands- and the assassin is far more gentle about it than you would expect. 

In the past, you’d seen her throw together magnificent, elaborate braids in five minutes.

Here, she takes her time. Careful yet meticulous. 

An easy silence falls over the room, and you realize that this is probably therapeutic for her in some way. Have to ask her about that sometime, you think, but not now. 

You remain in the moment, and let every thought in your head wash away.

You try to only focus on how her fingers are feather-light on your scalp, and how she hums a song you don’t know at a barely audible volume. 

The last time you felt this at peace, you’d been clinically dead. 

You’d craved this level of tranquility, searched for it in ways you probably shouldn’t have over the last couple of years. You’d come to the conclusion that you wouldn’t find it again until the next time you found yourself in the endless void. 

But now… when you’re around Yelena, you feel more alive than ever before.

She’s almost like that little beacon of light you saw after those few minutes of darkness, how it grew brighter the closer you got to consciousness.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

“What for?”

“Bucky told me you sat with me,” you say, voice soft as you keep your eyes closed. “While I was down in the med bay.”

She doesn’t say anything, simply continues braiding.

“I appreciate you, and I don’t say it enough. So thank you.”

She’s silent for a few more seconds.

“There is no need to thank me. You would have been there me too.”

You don’t want to think about it. About the potential of Yelena getting hurt anytime soon. 

She hands you the mirror you keep on your side table next to the couch, finally letting you get a good look at what she’s been working on.

It’s beautiful- but you almost want to tell her you hate it so you can sit here longer as she redoes it.

You decide to be a little more adult about it though, and ask her to have a sleepover instead.

“Thank you, Lena, this is so stunning,” you say as you run your fingers along the ridges of the style.

The blonde smiles as she admires her creation. 

And you.

“It’s late though,” you continue. 

“Would you… want to stay the night?” Your nerves get the better of you, making the words come out fast. “I think I’d enjoy the company, after today.” 

You shift so you can face her, and you’re lucky enough to catch the way her eyes brighten and a smile spreads across her lips.

“I would love that.”

✨ taglist ✨

@verynormalsstuff , @loverofwomenswrongs , @push-on-me , @sevslover

[celestialseph]

hymn to virgil (part ix)

masterlist ✨ ao3

pairing: Yelena Belova x Fem!Witch!reader

summary: Yelena is notoriously difficult to get close to- she has a hard time opening up or connecting with all she's been through. However, after two years of working together, she... seems to have a soft spot for you? What you don't know is that your teammates have started to take note of this, and after a mishap on a mission, you start to think that maybe something is up with the former widow.

warnings: little to no descriptors of reader’s features, mentions of sensory issues and insecurities, canon typical violence, canon divergence (lots), knives, cursing, fluff, Yelena's a Simp, Bucky is a good friend, eventual smut maybe, inaccuracies about the Sentry project, (will be posted in individual chapter warnings!), tags will be added as we go!!

word count: 1.1k

authors note: another part already?? sorry yall, i'm just on a roll here. but we have a proper introduction of everyone's favorite little wet kitten. stick around to the end, because my lovely sibling has created a top-tier meme for this chapter. enjoy <3

You wake up with the pounding in your head still present. 

As your eyes open, you’re blinded by the fluorescent lights that seem to be above you.

You’re in the infirmary.

A groan leaves you as you attempt to sit up, but a voice distracts you.

“Woah, woah, be careful.”

Yelena.

“Take it easy, киса,” she says as she reaches out to help you steady yourself. 

You cover your eyes with your hands, because it is simply too bright in here. 

“Thank you, лисичка,” you reply. 

The pronunciation of the Russian word is butchered- you can tell by the soft laugh that leaves the blonde next to you. 

“What happened?” You ask, finally turning to face her.

“What do you remember?” Yelena returns.

She looks tired. Her short hair is barely restrained with small braids along the crown of her head- no match for the intricate ones she donned a few days ago with longer hair. Her eyes seem heavy, dark circles evident in the harsh lighting. 

“I…” you trail off as you try to think.

“We got to the fight, and I was in the air.” Your eyebrows scrunch together, because that’s all you remember. 

“I think I fell? Maybe? And now I’m here.”

A look of concern flashes across Yelena’s face, but she tries to conceal it.

“Okay,” she whispers. 

She hesitates before continuing.

“There was a man. He… you said you knew him. He’s a civilian, but we can’t figure out who he is.”

Memories come rushing back in flashes. 

Of a terrified man with a knife in his shoulder. He looked so scared. 

You’d protected him, but weren’t sure why. His messy brown hair and big, pleading eyes felt so familiar.

You just can’t place him.

It didn’t make sense, how you’d felt the pain from the blade piercing him. You may be empathetic, but that’s sure as hell not how that works. 

“Is he here?” You speak the question before you can really think it through. 

It’s Yelena’s turn to knit her brows together, and she seems conflicted. 

“Yes, but-”

You cut her off. “I need to see him.” 

There’s a finality in your tone that the blonde was not expecting.

She shakes her head, “I am not sure this is the best idea-”

“Yelena, please.” You’re sincere in your plea.

A moment passes as she scans your features.

And then she nods. “Okay.”

The assassin gently helps you up from the stiff bed. Her hands are warm and comforting against yours.

She walks with you out of your room in the med bay, and you allow her to guide you. Yelena leads the two of you down a few halls before you start to feel the thrumming in your chest. 

He’s close. 

One more turn, and she announces, “He’s in here. Do you want me to come in with you?”

Worry is still etched on her face, and honestly, you’re a little nervous too.

“Yes, please,” you reply.

She nods again, and knocks on the door before pushing it open slightly. 

“Bob?” She whispers. “It is Yelena, I have someone with me who would like to see you.”

A few seconds pass before the man- Bob- responds. 

“Sure,” he says quietly.

The blonde opens the door, and the pain in your head grows so fast that it leaves spots in your vision. 

He sees you. 

You see him.

He seems frightened for a moment, and then his eyes narrow. 

“I know you,” Bob whispers. He still seems so scared. 

You study his face, his shaggy brown hair, the bandaging on his shoulder.

“I know you too,” you say.

No one speaks. The two of you hold eye contact as Yelena stands by you, completely lost.

She decides to break the silence. “How do you know each other?”

Your heart is racing again, and your magic begins to swirl around you as you keep his gaze. 

In a split second, before Yelena can talk some sense into you, you send a blast of magic towards Bob.

The man blocks it instantly, easily manipulating the metal tray table next to him to shield him. 

Without even moving a muscle. 

Yelena panics for a moment, a squeal coming from her at the sound of the clash. 

“What the fuck?!” The blonde yells.

The dots connect. 

You’d been an early participant- taken against your will and experimented on to help them create their own Scarlet Witch- before they moved on to bigger and better things.

You knew him from your time at the Sentry Project.

Bob had been brought in a year after you, but the project heads would routinely pit the two of you against one another to test your strength. 

You’d been poked and prodded and put through hell right next to this man.

Side by side. 

At a certain point, his powers grew to be greater than yours.

A bad explosion during a fight with Bob and another unfortunate test subject left you effectively dead. 

So, the project had no further use for you.

The Project decided to lock you up in a cellar at one of their abandoned facilities, and luckily, James and Sam had found you on an impromptu recon mission a week later after a tip came in regarding your whereabouts.

You didn’t know that Bob had survived the rest of his experimentation, and you weren’t sure how he managed to fly under the team’s radar for so long. 

But he’s here, in front of you, at the compound. 

“... Sentry?” You say, your tone hushed.

The realization hits him too.

“Holy shit…” 

He pauses.

“Ultraviolet?”

“Oh my god,” you sigh, rushing towards him and wrapping your arms around him as he stays seated on his bed.

You’re careful to avoid his injury, but you can’t help yourself from squeezing him tightly. 

“What the fuck?” Yelena questions once again. 

“I thought you died- I watched you die,” he mutters. 

You chuckle at this. “You did kill me, but only for like, five minutes. I’m mostly fine now.”

“Will someone please tell me what the fuck is going on!” The assassin exclaims from behind you. 

When you first got brought on to the team, only Sam and Bucky had access to your file. Wanda later got to read it to get a better grasp on your powers, only so she knew how to help you manage them better.

Yelena didn’t have the clearance to see it at the time, and even once she did, she’d never attempted to get her hands on it. 

The assassin respected people’s privacy when it came to their pasts- and she wanted to hear your story directly from you whenever you were ready.

You step away from Bob, responding to the blonde with a simple shrug.

“Long story short, we come from the same fucked up testing facility."

✨ taglist ✨

@verynormalsstuff , @loverofwomenswrongs , @push-on-me

[celestialseph]

beautiful bisexual people in my phone we have to live. We have to

[celestialseph]

hymn to virgil (part viii)

masterlist ✨ ao3

pairing: Yelena Belova x Fem!Witch!reader

summary: Yelena is notoriously difficult to get close to- she has a hard time opening up or connecting with all she's been through. However, after two years of working together, she... seems to have a soft spot for you? What you don't know is that your teammates have started to take note of this, and after a mishap on a mission, you start to think that maybe something is up with the former widow.

warnings: little to no descriptors of reader’s features, mentions of sensory issues and insecurities, canon typical violence, canon divergence, knives, cursing, fluff, Yelena's a Simp, Bucky is a good friend, eventual smut maybe (will be posted in individual chapter warnings!), tags will be added as we go!!

word count: 2.2k

authors note: you guys, you guys!!!!! thank you so much for still reading??? thanks for being on this ride with me. honestly, after thunderbolts, my mind has been working overdrive (three chapters in three days, i need to sleep). this fic was NOT supposed to have plot! it was supposed to be this silly little oneshot, but..... boyyyy do i have some plans!!!

i hope you enjoy this chapter's.. events... lol see you in the end notes too <3

Is this the gay panic that Peter always talks about?

The rushing in your ears, the way you can feel the blood pulsing through your body? How it takes everything in you to hold your magic in, and not just drop to your knees and yell “Holy fuck Yelena you look so fucking pretty!”

Instead of doing that, though, you step inside her room quietly. 

“So,” the blonde continues, “I picked this up for you after our training the other day.”

She walks from the door to the kitchen, picking up a black case about the size of a shoebox. 

You’d been in Yelena’s room many times; Kate, her, and yourself did have girl’s nights every once in a while, with Wanda or Peter occasionally joining in as well. 

She’s added more decor since the last time you were here. Her walls have a few more framed photos of her and Natasha, and some of her other widow friends.

There’s even one from a few Halloweens ago, when the assassin had bribed Bucky to go as Barbie and Ken (specifically from the movie). She’d forced him into a blond wig and roller skates (they both ate shit later that night trying to race each other- Bucky won though). 

The biggest frame holds a picture of the whole team. It’s from when everyone had gotten together to tie dye matching shirts (Kate’s idea), and the night ended with most of the gang covered in multiple colors of dye. It’s one of the only photos in existence where everyone is smiling genuinely. 

You take a seat on one of Yelena’s barstools as she opens the box across the island from you.

She pulls out something that has a lot of straps, and… the knife. 

“It is a thigh holster and a combat knife,” Yelena says as she unsheathes the blade excitedly.

“It is simple. Just a dagger, easy to manage but effective when needed.” The assassin pinches the metal end expertly, and passes it to you hilt-first. 

You hesitate slightly before taking it.

Knives have never been your strong suit, but once you feel the weight of it in your hands, it doesn’t seem as intimidating as usual.

“Yelena…” you murmur. “Thank you, but I don’t-”

“I will teach you,” she says definitively. Her eyes light up as she watches you test your grip on the knife.

“This one is better than the ones we have with the normal training weapons. It is more balanced, easier to throw.” Yelena says cooly.

“I’m never on the ground, though, I don’t do hand-to-hand stuff,” you reply, shaking your head and handing the blade back to her.

“Yes, yes,” she waves you off.

“But, you never know what can happen out there. If I- if we are not around, you need to have a backup to your magic. Just in case.” 

You don’t miss the small slipup, even as she tries to brush it off quickly. 

The blonde hands you the holster. “Try this on. We can get a different one if you need, and I have a few extras, too.”

You take it from her, and stand. 

“I’ve never worn one,” you say as you mess with all the different straps and clasps. “Where do I even start here?”

She sighs dramatically, coming around the island and crouching down as she takes it back from you. 

“So I normally start with the top buckle, it is the easiest way to get the fit right on the rest of them. Here.” 

She passes you one of the straps, and places the actual sheath flat against your outer thigh. 

“Wrap this around your leg, and then snap it in here.”

You do as Yelena says, bringing it between your legs and clicking it into place where she instructed you to.

“Perfect,” she praises. “This one next.”

You repeat the process- wrapping straps around your leg and tightening them when needed. 

The assassin is beaming up at you from her position on the floor, and once all the buckles have been latched, she stands.

“See? Not that bad.”

She grabs the knife off the counter, and slides it into place on your thigh. 

Yelena leans back to take a good look at it, at you.

Your face flushes as she examines the fit of it, her eyes stay locked on your leg. 

And then she reaches down to tighten one of the straps. Her other hand holds your leg steady as she does so.

She has to tuck a strand of hair back behind her ear due to the movement, and it is such a soft, gentle action.

Even though she’s actively placing weapons on your body, Yelena does so with care.

Her expression conveys nothing but warmth, and it’s getting increasingly harder to keep your hands from turning pink as she keeps adjusting the holster.

Thankfully (?), a ding comes from the speaker system above your heads. 

The two of you are quickly snapped out of whatever moment you were having.

Yelena stands up straight, and you both listen intently as the AI begins to speak.

“A threat has been spotted in Central Park. Please begin preparing to meet in the east hangar in 30 minutes. Sergeant Barnes will provide further details.”

“Fuck,” you say under your breath. 

Missions later in the day are your least favorite, and the sun is currently setting. 

Which means whatever happens will be happening in the dark. 

The blonde lets out a long groan. 

The holster still feels foreign on your leg, and you don’t really know how to use the knife.

You gesture to it and ask, “Is it alright if I leave this here for now? Until you show me how to use it properly?”

Yelena is already headed to her closet by the front door, pulling out one of her suits. 

“Sure,” she responds. 

“I would not want you to get hurt. You can put it back in the box, I will take care of it.” Her voice is soft even as she gathers up her weapons belt and tosses it onto her couch.

“Thank you, Lena,” You reply. “I really appreciate you looking out for me. It… means a lot.”

You both watch each other for a moment, smiles creeping onto your faces.

“I’m… gonna go,” you say after a few more seconds. 

“Yeah, no, go get ready.” Yelena shoos you towards the door, and you slip out, heading straight for the elevator.

Thirty minutes later, you’re walking onto the tarmac. Barnes is talking to Bishop and Wilson, handing them their packets.

The AI announces that Parker is five minutes out. 

Wanda is helping Yelena roll some things into the jet.

“Hey,” you call as you make your way closer to the group. “What’s up?”

Bucky looks to you and pulls your packet from the stack, handing it over as he begins to speak.

“We’ve seemingly got a super on our hands. Not sure of the extent of her powers yet, but she seems to be able to become invisible. She can phase in and out of the quantum realm, so she’s fairly unpredictable. They call her Ghost.”

Peter is here sooner than expected, dropping off the roof and attempting to put his suit the rest of the way on. 

Sam jumps in as Bucky finishes. “There’s another person with her, someone Barnes and I have dealt with before. His name is John Walker. Shot himself up with a replica of the super soldier serum.”

Cap looks around at the group as he speaks. “He’s violent, and is also unpredictable.”

You look through the file as the whole team gathers. 

“And annoying,” Barnes continues. “We need to have each other’s backs on this one. Wilson and I know how strong Walker is, but don’t know what damage the other one can do with the quantum manipulation. Stick together, and I want regular updates on comms.”

Sam starts to pass out earpieces, and the usual pre-mission tension is easily felt in the air. 

The team clambers onto the jet, and it’s quieter than you expect. Kate and Peter are usually chatting, but they find their seats without speaking a word. 

You think it may be the fact that it’s a night mission, and that there may still be civilians that everyone has to look out for as well. 

Regardless, you sit with your eyes closed, trying to shake the strange feeling building in your chest. 

You can’t pinpoint it, but as you near the drop location, your heart rate speeds up.

Instead of your palms glowing like normal, they grow sweaty. 

There’s an unfamiliar ache behind your eyes, and you try to push it all away as Wilson announces to get ready to go.

As everyone lines up, Yelena takes note of the odd look on your face. 

She rests a gloved hand on your shoulder, squeezing lightly. 

“You alright, киса?” 

You nod slightly, “Mhm, just think I’ve got a headache coming on. It’ll be fine.”

The assassin attempts to read you, and you know she knows you’re lying. But she lets it go for now, because Barnes is snapping at the two of you to get off the plane.

It’s only a five minute walk to where you need to be, and the closer the team gets to the action, the stranger you feel.

You’re getting nauseous, but you’re more focused on the fallen trees and debris that’s scattered around the park.

“Eyes up,” Wilson says over the comms. “Got a visual with Redwing. They’re both heading north. Follow the damage.”

Barnes chimes in next, “Parker, get Bishop in a tree with a good vantage point. Witches, we need you covering from above. Widow, with Cap and me.”

A chorus of responses passes through your earpiece, and everyone immediately gets to their positions. 

You join Wanda in the air above the trees, and you both spot the fight happening up ahead.

“Engaging!” Kate yells as you hear an explosion ring out. 

“Heading in.” Yelena responds. 

You see her, Bucky, and Sam run into the area as the smoke starts to clear. 

The opponents are quick to engage- a shield clashes against Cap’s, and you see the woman flashing in and out of view. 

Wanda is tossing large limbs as the enemies close in on the team, effectively pinning Walker for a moment- allowing Bucky to land a few blows. 

You send some blasts towards this Ghost, none of them making contact as she dodges them easily by disappearing. 

Then, out of the corner of your eye, you see another person trying to hide behind the fallen trees. 

With how dark it is, you can’t really get a good glimpse. 

You lower yourself towards the tops of the trees-

When you can finally make the person out, a sharp pain rings through your chest.

It’s just a man. A civilian.

But you shift your gaze back to the center of the clearing, covering Yelena as Walker starts to approach her. 

You land a good hit to the middle of the super solider’s stomach. He collapses for just long enough that the assassin is able to start restraining him.

She calls for Peter, who instantly swings over to wrap the man in webs. 

However, Ghost stops the kid in his tracks, snatching him out of the air before he can hit the ground. 

An arrow flies towards them, but the woman phases away before it can injure her.

And the next thing you know, you’re falling.

It feels like you’ve been stabbed, and it catches you so off guard that you’re unable to keep your powers flowing to hold your position in the sky. 

You land ungracefully and let out a cry, but you hear someone else yelling too.

Your ears are ringing, and you know your teammates are checking in on you, but you can’t tell what they’re saying.

All you can think about is the man cowering in the woods.

Barnes takes over tying up Walker as Yelena starts racing to you, dropping to her knees next to you like she had done when you’d hurt yourself in the training sim days prior. 

But she hears the screams from the forest too- and she’s throwing a blade before you can register what’s happening. 

It’s headed for the man.

Instinctively, you use your magic to knock it off course. It falls to the dirt with a soft thud. 

The widow is clearly confused as you then place a pink, shining bubble around the man in the trees.

When the glow of the protective barrier lights the area up, it allows you to see a knife that’s embedded in his shoulder.

It’s nestled in his body right where you felt the pain that brought you to the ground.

The chaos works in the team’s favor. With Walker not being an active threat, the group still in the fight is able to lock onto Ghost, managing to restrain her as well.

It feels like the whole world is moving too fast and too slow at the same time.

Your shoulder is still on fire.

You think you may throw up.

There’s a pit in your stomach as you look at the man.

Yelena is trying her best to talk to you, to make sure you’re okay, but she’s not getting through to you in your haze.

“I think I know him,” is all you can manage to say before everything goes black.

authors note: Y'ALL!!!!!! i simply could not help myself. will this be turning into a chaotic thunderbolts fic? 2014 avengers tower vibes? hmmmmmm

✨ taglist ✨

@verynormalsstuff , @loverofwomenswrongs , @push-on-me

[celestialseph]

hymn to virgil (part vii)

masterlist ✨ ao3

pairing: Yelena Belova x Fem!Witch!reader

summary: Yelena is notoriously difficult to get close to- she has a hard time opening up or connecting with all she's been through. However, after two years of working together, she... seems to have a soft spot for you? What you don't know is that your teammates have started to take note of this, and after a mishap on a mission, you start to think that maybe something is up with the former widow.

warnings: little to no descriptors of reader’s features, mentions of sensory issues and insecurities, canon typical violence, canon divergence, knives, cursing, fluff, Yelena's a Simp, Bucky is a good friend, eventual smut maybe (will be posted in individual chapter warnings!), tags will be added as we go!!

word count: 1.3k

authors note: back to back chapters?? so originally i was going to cut Yelena's hair a little further into the story, but after thunderbolts the short hair is all i can think about. whoops!

The next morning, you convince Barnes and Parker to get brunch at a new little spot you’d found a few blocks over. 

You had originally invited Yelena as well, but she had a hair appointment in an hour, and opted to make it up to you later.

Peter ordered an uncomfortable amount of chocolate chip pancakes. 

Bucky had biscuits and gravy with country potatoes (and stole Peter’s pancakes once he started to get too hyper). He was on his third iced caramel latte (with extra caramel drizzle, because he loves a sweet coffee). 

You had downed two mimosas, and were enjoying an absurdly good breakfast sandwich.

You’ve been animatedly telling them about the interaction with Yelena on the balcony the night before. 

“She just got so emotional,” you say. “And it was kind of a shock, because I always see her as this strong, independent person.”

You take another sip. “She said she’s not used to being around people who care about her, and it just felt like a stab to the heart.”

Peter is heavily invested, a small frown appearing on his face at your words. 

Bucky is eyeing you over his cup as he takes a drink too. But, they both wait for you to continue.

“I care so much about her, because Yelena…” you trail off a bit so you can think about the right words.

There are too many positive things to say about her to choose from.

“She is one of the most special people I’ve ever met. And Spiderman is one of my best friends. Her energy is so infectious, and it’s impossible to not feel… safe with her…”

You seem to realize what you’re saying as you say it.

It all clicks in your brain. 

“Oh, shit,” you murmur. 

Bucky almost chokes on his coffee as he watches it hit you. The moment you put it all together. He can visually see the thoughts running through your mind.

How Yelena only helps Sam in the kitchen if he’s making a dish you requested. The way she brings your favorite snacks to the living room on nights where everyone is hanging out there. She holds conversation with you during missions if she notices you getting a little anxious, knowing the distraction helps you feel more at ease. 

All the times where you feel little butterflies in your chest when she compliments your hair or your nail polish or she looks at you with a smile on her face. Or how the assassin’s eyes light up during training when you land a good hit. 

Everything that’s happened in the last week.

You like Yelena.

Yelena… maybe likes you?

You quickly narrow your eyes at the boys sitting across from you. 

“You. Mother. Fuckers.” Your tone is slightly dark, and Parker cowers slightly, already apologizing.

“I’m sorry! It’s not my fault! Mr. Barnes told me to let you guys figure it out on your own!”

“Oh, he did?” You reply, turning your attention to the super solider. 

“I’m surprised it took you this long. It’s very obvious that you both have crushes on each other.” He says flatly, like it’s common knowledge. 

Each other?

Your eyebrows hit your hairline as you take it in. Your hands start to glow faintly.

Yelena likes you too.

“She…” 

Peter pipes back up. “She likes you! Yes!” He sounds like he’s delivering the best news in the world. 

And it kind of is.

“What am I supposed to do? How do I even talk to her now? Oh my god-” You’re muttering, hands coming to cover your eyes. 

Bucky shrugs. “Talk to her, maybe.”

Your head is resting in your hands against the table. 

“James, I am going to kill you. Shut up.”

Peter moves to sit on your side of the booth, forcing you into a hug. 

“I am so excited for you guys! You’re so cute together and this means I get to put my plan to have an Avengers float at Pride this year into motion!” He’s squealing in your ear, and you push at his shoulders to get him off of you.

“We’re going home.” You tell them with finality.

“I think I need to take a very hot bath and then go throw knives at things.”

Bucky pays for the food, and the three of you start on the walk back to the tower.

“How do you know?” You question. “That… she feels the same way?”

Peter is quick to speak. “Yelena never stops talking about you. She didn’t realize it was a crush until Bucky brought it to her attention the other day.”

“Yeah, she was having a meltdown over your tattoos after you trained the other day.” Barnes says easily.

“What?” You ask.

“She thinks you’re really cool, and that’s high praise coming from her. Yelena doesn’t let herself feel much, but she cares about you too. A lot. It’s kind of annoying-”

“It is not annoying!” Peter cries, hitting Bucky in the arm, earning the kid a lethal glare from Barnes. 

“It’s so adorable, she keeps snacks in her gun safe for you,” he whispers. “She sends me memes and asks if you would like them before she sends them to you.” 

“She bought you a knife,” Bucky says. “She wants to teach you how to use it in case something happens short-range on a mission.”

How is he so calm right now?

“So maybe you should ask her if she wants to go with you. You know, when you go throw knives at things later.” He’s got a fucking smirk on his face, and you’re tempted to push him direcly into traffic. 

When you get back to the compound, you head straight to your room-  to your bathtub. You turn the water all the way to hot.

According to Wanda, Yelena was still at her hair appointment, and Kate would be back from picking Lucky up from his weekend playdate at Clint’s house soon. 

Once the tub is half full, you turn the temperature down just a bit and add in some salts.

Normally, you’d love to light some candles and have your favorite show playing, but not right now. 

You leave your phone on your nightstand, turn the lights off, and sink into the tub in complete silence. 

The steam, and the lavender smell from the salt helps ease your racing mind. 

Yelena likes you, and you like Yelena. 

What the fuck.

You’d sat in the bath for an hour, basking in how peaceful the silence is. 

When you get back to into your room, you have a notification. 

From Yelena.

lena: James said you want to throw things. I have something for you. My room later?

The knife.

Fucking. Bucky.

you: just got out of the shower, can head that way in 15?

Shit. Okay.

lena: Sounds good.

You throw on some clothes, going back to your basics: thin sweatpants, socks with cats on them, and a short sleeve shirt. You pop on some jewelry and slippers, and tie your hair up. 

And then you head to Yelena’s room the floor up.

And you knock on her door.

She opens it a few seconds later, and you think you may pass out.

“Hi киса, please, come in!”

Yelena’s cut her hair. 

It’s short. Shoulder length, with a few pieces that frame her face. She’s lightened it a few shades too.

You’re tempted to reach up and brush the stray strands off her face before they fall into her lashes. 

She looks beautiful, and every ounce of oxygen in your lungs gets knocked out of your chest as you take in her new look. 

“Wow,” you say lightly. “Your hair, Lena-”

“Do you like it? I was a little nervous, but,”

“It’s gorgeous.” You cut in. 

“You look great. It suits you.” She smiles, a brightness shining in her eyes. 

Yelena ushers you in, muttering a “Thank you,” in return. 

She closes the door behind you, and stands there for a moment longer- smiling- and she wills the blush to fade from her cheeks before she turns around.

✨ taglist ✨

@verynormalsstuff , @loverofwomenswrongs , @push-on-me

[celestialseph]

hymn to virgil (part vi)

masterlist ✨ ao3

pairing: Yelena Belova x Fem!Witch!reader

summary: Yelena is notoriously difficult to get close to- she has a hard time opening up or connecting with all she's been through. However, after two years of working together, she... seems to have a soft spot for you? What you don't know is that your teammates have started to take note of this, and after a mishap on a mission, you start to think that maybe something is up with the former widow.

warnings: little to no descriptors of reader’s features, mentions of sensory issues and insecurities, canon typical violence, canon divergence, knives, cursing, fluff, Yelena's a Simp, Bucky is a good friend, eventual smut maybe (will be posted in individual chapter warnings!), tags will be added as we go!!

word count: 1.2k

authors note: you guys!!!!! thank you so much for all the love you have given this fic! appreciate you all and am giving you forehead kisses. keep being awesome, y'all <3 also???? thunderbolts??? we are so fucking back.

Silence falls over the two of you again as Yelena attempts to digest what’s just happened. 

Your thigh is pressed against hers, and you’re using your feet to gently push the hammock as you sit.

You hope she’s not bothered by the pet name- Bucky had thrown so many options at you when you’d asked him for advice on what to call her. 

You’d found it odd that so many Russian terms revolved around animals, but it made it hard to pick because they were all so cute. 

Little fox, though, seemed to fit Yelena better than the rest. 

She’s intelligent, cunning, resilient, clever, plus she likes to steal things. 

Barnes had made fun of you as you listed off the reasonings behind your choice, muttering a quick “gay as fuck,” under his breath.

But it just felt right.

“I’m sorry, I should have asked first before just saying-” It comes out as a whisper, a plea for reassurance from the blonde. 

 The blonde cuts you off before you’re able to apologize further. 

“Shut up,” she replies with a grin. “It is… cute.”

You feel Yelena shrug, her shoulder moving against yours as she does so. 

“I am sorry for shouting,” she continues. “You just caught me off guard.”

The blonde looks to you for the first time in minutes, and you swear your heart is about to beat right out of your chest. 

She looks sincere.

Tender. 

The weight she usually carries on her shoulders melts away for a split second, but before you know it, a hint of mischievousness that is so undeniably Yelena returns to her eyes.

“Although,” the assassin says, elbowing you lightly, “I do like it. Would I be cocky for thinking that it fits me?”

“Not at all!” You laugh at her comment. 

“I mean, why do you think I chose it? It was the only one that seemed remotely like you.” You gesture like you’re weighing which nicknames you could use. 

“Hmmmm, either call you a fox,” you say, “a fish, or a bird. Bird is out because that’s Kate’s thing.” This pulls a cackle from Yelena, but you continue. 

“You are absolutely not a fish either, but a fox…” 

You aren’t ready to open this can of worms right now, so you choose your next words carefully. 

“There are all those adorable videos of foxes, running around and stealing phones, or trying to be sneaky-”

“I am sneaky!” The blonde cuts in, deeply offended. 

“Okay, yes, you are sneakier than those foxes. But, they laugh as they wreak havoc, and are always strategic about their next moves.”

You elbow her back, and meet her gaze.

“Honestly, that’s exactly how I would describe you. As someone who I can always depend on to crack a joke while she’s taking down bad guys.”

Her eyes start to well up, but you have more to say.

“You always know how to get us out of a dangerous situation, because you’re adaptable and not afraid to take the risk. You’re someone whose laugh can brighten a dark day, just like the little foxes do when they pop up on my feed.”

A single tear falls, and she turns away abruptly.

Oh, shit. Too much.

You instinctively reach for her thigh, resting a hand on it comfortingly.

She jumps a little bit at the unexpected contact, and you cringe to yourself at the movement.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper once more. 

She hastily wipes at her face, but she turns to you again.

“Do not apologize.” Yelena’s hand pats yours awkwardly where it lays on her leg.

“That is all very nice. I… I am just not used to compliments. It is sometimes hard for me, having people around who… care.”

Another tear lands on her cheek, but she does not bother to swipe it away.

“You deserve to hear it,” you say sincerely. “You’re talented, and so smart. Your vest collection is fucking unmatched,”

“They are so cool, right?” She interjects. 

“- And you’re possibly the strongest person I know other than Barnes. You routinely beat Captain America’s ass during practice.”

She snickers, and her hand wraps slightly around yours. 

“But I do not have more tattoos than you, and tattoos are much cooler than being able to pin Sam Wilson.” She nods to your leg.

You stretch your legs out in front of you, but the sun has fully gone down. The moon only offers up a small amount of light to let you see the ink.

She shakes her head, “See? I have not anyone with more tattoos than my dad, and yours are much better. He got all of his in prison, though.”

It’s your turn to giggle before you reply. “You’re so fascinated with them, it’s hilarious. I’m surprised you don’t have more.”

“No, absolutely not.” She says.

There’s surprise in your voice when you respond, “What? Why?” 

“They hurt!” She cries. 

Your jaw drops. 

“They… Yelena-” You are at an utter loss for words. “You’re joking, right?”

“No! No, they hurt so bad! I do not know how you do it. I felt like I was dying after an hour, but the artist gave me a lollipop, so it is okay.” She’s dead serious.

“This is fucking insane. You are an assassin. You fight aliens regularly. And tattoos are where you draw the line?”

She rubs at her eyebrows with her free hand, “That is so different! I am not going to willingly let someone stab me for hours on end!” 

You cannot wait to tell Peter this, because holy shit it’s the best thing you’ve ever heard.

Oh, fuck. Peter.

The movie.

Your head rolls back when you realize that you have to ruin this wholesome moment. Because your job was to bring Yelena back to start the movie.

You groan, pulling Yelena away from muttering about how tattoos should not hurt that bad.

“What is happening right now?” She says, confused by your actions.

“The movie, Lena. They’re waiting on us.” You keep moaning, dropping your head against her shoulder as you speak.

She squeezes your hand as she starts to groan too, and the different pitches clashing causes the two of you to start giggling like schoolgirls instead.

“Fine, fine, I guess you are right. I have been so excited to watch it!”

You lift your head off of her, and she releases your hand.

Yelena stands, and the sudden movement knocks you slightly off balance as the hammock shifts. 

The blonde quickly reaches to steady you, grip firm yet gentle on your side.

Then she offers you her other hand, and you let her help you up off the fucking death trap.

Once you’re standing, you… don’t let go of her proffered hand.

She doesn’t pull away.

“Thank you,” She says softly after a beat. “I needed this.”

“Yeah, I think I did too” 

The two of you stand there on the balcony in the moonlight, with the city below to fading away as you enjoy each other’s presence for a moment longer.

“Popcorn?” You ask, voice still quiet.

Yelena nods, and reluctantly releases your hand. 

She opens the door for you like the gentleman she is, and you hate that it makes you blush.

When you start down the hall, there’s sound coming from the living room.

They’d started the movie. 

The assassin pauses, then she’s gone. She’s running.

You follow after her at a normal pace, and hear Peter and Kate screaming seconds later.

Yelena has them both in chokeholds, and she’s pulling them over the back of the couch, onto the floor.

“Oh my god,” you sigh. 

Wanda gasps, Bucky rolls his eyes.

“I fuckin’ told y’all,” Sam says as he laughs.

✨ taglist ✨

@verynormalsstuff , @loverofwomenswrongs , @push-on-me

[celestialseph]

the hymn to virgil masterlist is here!

pairing: Yelena Belova x Fem!Witch!reader

summary: Yelena is notoriously difficult to get close to- she has a hard time opening up or connecting with all she's been through. However, after two years of working together, she... seems to have a soft spot for you? What you don't know is that your teammates have started to take note of this, and after a mishap on a mission, you start to think that maybe something is up with the former widow.

authors note: this is my first masterlist and i cannot emphasize enough that i do not know what i'm doing!! but! it will be updated as we go. regardless, thank you for enjoying it as much as i have enjoyed writing it <3

tags will be listed on each part ✨

part i

part ii

part iii

part iv

part v

part vi - coming soon!

you can also find me on ao3 - persephonesbarnes 🌙

[celestialseph]

hymn to virgil (part v)

read parts i, ii, iii, and iv here, or on ao3 ✨

pairing: Yelena Belova x Fem!Witch!reader

summary: Yelena is notoriously difficult to get close to- she has a hard time opening up or connecting with all she's been through. However, after two years of working together, she... seems to have a soft spot for you? What you don't know is that your teammates have started to take note of this, and after a mishap on a mission, you start to think that maybe something is up with the former widow.

warnings: little to no descriptors of reader’s features, mentions of sensory issues and insecurities, canon typical violence, canon divergence, knives, cursing, fluff, Yelena's a Simp, Bucky is a good friend, eventual smut maybe (will be posted in individual chapter warnings!), tags will be added as we go!!

word count: 1.7k

authors note: should there be a masterlist for this?!? genuinely thought this would get zero traction and i would just be shouting into the void, but it makes my heart so happy that y'all enjoy it! <3

As you get to the living room, the argument about what movie to watch is already well underway. 

It happens every time.

Peter, Kate, and Wanda are sharing the big couch- Bishop is basically tackling Parker to try and grab the remote. Wanda uses her powers to snatch the remote and bring it into her own hand.

“That is so not fair! Give it back!” The archer yells, getting off of Parker and reaching for the witch instead.

Sam yells from the kitchen where he was laying all the food out, “Can we please not break the couch again over this?”

Bucky nods in agreement as he walks to the loveseat while carrying a bowl of M&M’s. “Accounting will not be happy, and you three can deal with them this time.”

Yelena is following close behind with two bags of popcorn, passing one to the trio as she laughs.

She plops down next to Barnes after he sits.

The blonde is wearing a crop top and leggings, her toned abs demanding your attention. 

You think you may pass out as you remember that you are also showing skin. No one has seen you yet, and there’s still time to run back to your room and change.

Honestly, that doesn’t sound like a bad idea.

Your insecurities are sneaking up on you, any you’re becoming increasingly aware of the cool air on your legs, so you turn to walk back-

“Holy shit, those are awesome!” Peter yells. 

Fucking. Spiderman.

He’d looked behind him to spy on the array of snacks, catching you in his periphery before you could make your escape. 

Your fists clench slightly at your sides, pink emitting from them as you do so.

When you face the team and start to walk out of the hall into the well-lit kitchen, all eyes are on you. 

“Woahhhhhh,” Kate muses.

Wanda beams as she sees you. “Wow! There’s so many more than I thought! You look amazing, hon.”

“Damn, those are fire,” Wilson says as he admires the ink, leaning up against the counter. “Super clean.”

Your face is on fire as the team watches you. You think your hands are shaking, and the back of your neck is growing damp with sweat. 

“Thanks, guys.” You respond to the room as you move towards Sam, shielding your legs behind the island as you grab a plate and take in the options.

It takes everything in you to not drag your eyes up towards the Russians.

Towards Yelena.

“Can’t believe you’ve been holding out on us!” Sam says as he loads up his own plate. “Those probably cost a fortune, but they look great on you.” 

He can feel your anxiety, and you’re thankful for the way he’s speaking with you quietly, giving you a slight break from the chaos in the room.

You face him and send a soft smile his way, “Thank you Sam, I appreciate it.”

The plate is full, and you know you can’t loiter in the kitchen forever. 

As you head into the living room, the fight over what to watch is back in full swing, drawing most attention to the TV.

Except for the aforementioned Russians.

Their gazes are practically burning holes into your skin.

You head to one of the individual chairs, and Sam takes the other for himself. 

Once seated, you finally allow yourself to glance over to the assassins. 

Bucky is nodding in approval, a smirk crossing his lips as he shoves a handful of popcorn into his mouth. 

On the other hand, Yelena seems to be… struggling.

Her jaw is open, the pieces of popcorn between her fingers have started to crumble in her tightening grip.

She’s staring at your legs, eyes scanning up and down them intently.

You think she may be having a stroke.

Yelena hasn’t made eye contact with you yet, and Bucky is trying his best to hold back a laugh. 

The sounds of everyone sharing their opinions on genres fades into the background as you watch her.

She’s in a trance until Barnes hits her arm with his hand, whispering a quick “You good?” 

This seems to work- she immediately looks over to him, straightening in her seat and shoving the bag of popcorn into his chest. 

“Shut up, James.” She says through gritted teeth. “I am fine.”

“How would everyone feel about Star Wars?” Peter pipes up. 

The majority of the room groans.

“You’ve already made us sit through the entire series. We aren’t doing it again.” Kate responds, rolling her eyes. 

Yelena is standing up now- walking to the kitchen, grabbing a glass, and filling it with water. 

“What about a horror movie?” Wanda offers up, and no one seems to object.

“We haven’t watched IT yet,” Wilson replies.

Everyone nods, and you watch them scroll through the horror tab before checking the kitchen again.

Yelena is gone.

Bucky is giving you a look, his brows raised and he’s still fucking smirking. 

With the blonde absent, you hop up and walk to him, sitting on the other side of the loveseat. 

Leaning into Barnes, you whisper, “What the fuck just happened?”

“I told you it was a good idea.” He responds. James abruptly stands, patting you on the back before having the audacity to go steal your seat. 

“Bucky!” You hiss, and then hear Peter let out the tiniest giggle. 

You point at both of them, and mouth “I’m going to fucking kill you.”

“Should we wait for Yelena to come back to start?” Wanda asks innocently.

Sam nods in agreement. “She loves scary shit, say may take us all out of we don’t wait.”

“I want to staaaarrrtttt, though!” Kate whines theatrically.

Then she calls your name.

“You should go find her, let’s get this movie night properly underway!”

“That is a great idea!” Peter chimes in. 

So Kate is in on this secret too. Amazing.

All eyes are on you again, and you’re feeling quite targeted. 

“Yeah, sure, no worries.” You reply awkwardly, standing and putting your plate on the coffee table in the middle. 

“Be right back.” 

You glare at Kate, Bucky, and Peter, because they are clearly carrying out some kind of plot that you just can’t pin down.

There aren’t any lights on that you can immediately see looking down the dim halls behind the kitchen, so you pick the left one to start.

You walk by a storage closet, the conference room, and the women’s bathroom. That’s probably the most reasonable place to check first, right? 

You press open the door, poking your head in.

“Lena?” You call softly. “Are you in here?”

No response. 

You continue down the hall. There’s a smaller conference room- you easily see she’s not in there.

At the end of the walkway is the exit to the balcony Sam was grilling on earlier. You peek through the window on the door.

Yelena is out there, sitting on the hammock. She’s facing the sunset.

Her hair is shimmering again, just the way it was when you saw her on the rooftop during the mission a few days prior. 

Stray strands of it that have fallen out of her loose braid blow slightly in the breeze.

It’s still just bright enough on the horizon that she has her eyes closed. 

The orange-pink glow of the sun rests softly on her skin. 

She’s radiant.

You hate to disrupt her, but, the others are waiting for the two of you.

Carefully, you press the door open.

“Knock, knock.” You wait for Yelena to respond before going any further.

The assassin jumps slightly. 

She seems surprised to see you, and she doesn’t say anything.

“Hey, you okay, Lena? The gang picked a movie, but we didn’t want to start without you,” Your voice is soft.

She nods, “Yeah, yeah. Just needed some fresh air.”

“I’m sorry,” you reply, “Kate was being persistent and everyone was staring at me.” 

The blonde chuckles, but doesn’t move from her spot. “That does sound like Kate Bishop.”

Feeling that some of the tension has eased, you walk onto the balcony. The door latches with a click behind you.

“Is everything alright?”

She opens her mouth to speak, but closes it quickly. A sigh leaves her instead. 

You tilt your head, narrowing your eyes- because Yelena still hasn’t looked at you.

“Fine. Scooch.” You wave your hands at her and walk towards the hammock.

Now she turns her head to look at you.

She takes you in for a second, eyes flicking over you. From the pajamas, to your face, your legs, and back up to meet your gaze.

It’s fast, but you catch it. And the assassin knows you catch it. 

She finally shifts when you shove at her shoulder, “Go on, beep beep.”

A look of panic crosses her features as you sit, the hammock swaying as you settle.

Yelena places her hands in her lap, fidgeting for a moment before tucking them between her thighs.

The two of you sit in silence for a moment, watching the sun lower.

“I’m here for you, you know?” 

She nods.

A few more minutes pass.

“I mean it, лисичка.” A smirk pulls at your lips as you say it, but your words are laced with sincerity.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see her snap her head up to you, jaw on the floor. 

“What the fuck?!” She exclaims.

The volume of her statement is an abrupt contrast to the soft, distant sounds of the city below. It makes you jump, a small burst of magic leaving your hand as you throw it to your heart

You can’t really tell from her tone if she’s upset or… impressed.

“Shit,” you sigh out after you catch a breath.

Yelena’s still staring in awe.

“How do you know this?” She asks directly. 

“Bucky!” You respond immediately.

“Oh, my god. Did he teach me something offensive? I’m going to kil-”

“No,” the blonde interjects, a slight smile on her face. “It’s correct.”

A beat.

“As long as your your goal was to call me a fox,” she purrs. There’s a playful edge to her inflection.

You feel your face flush, and your magic betrays you yet again when the pink aura envelops you.

“Yes?” You reply hesitantly. “He told me it was a term of endearment in Russian- little fox- and you call me kitty, so I just… thought it was fun?”

Yelena looks back to the skyline with a smile that’s brighter than the sun was moments ago.

The former widow tries desperately to ignore the fluttering in her heart.

✨ taglist ✨

@verynormalsstuff

[celestialseph]

FLORENCE PUGH

[celestialseph]

hymn to virgil (part iv)

read parts i, ii, and iii here, or on ao3!

pairing: Yelena Belova x Fem!Witch!reader

summary: Yelena is notoriously difficult to get close to- she has a hard time opening up or connecting with all she's been through. However, after two years of working together, she... seems to have a soft spot for you? Your teammates have started to take note of this, and after a mishap on a mission, you start to think that maybe something is up with the former widow.

warnings: little to no descriptors of reader’s features, mentions of insecurities, canon typical violence, canon divergence, knives, cursing, fluff, Yelena's a Simp, tattoos, minor injury, gay panic, eventual smut maybe, tags will be added as we go!!

authors note: would like to note that i Do Not condone wearing clothes without washing them first. this has been a psa.

word count: 1.1k

One hour until movie night. 

Everyone is back at the compound, Peter just got dropped off and is already raiding the cupboard along with Kate, Wanda is off folding her laundry. 

Sam is out on a balcony grilling some food for the night, Bucky is moving around the furniture in the living room and laying out pillows and blankets.

Yelena is nowhere to be found. 

Right now seems to be the perfect (maybe only) opportunity to finally meet up with Bucky alone, so you take it.

As you get off the elevator, you plop yourself down on the couch that he is currently trying to rotate. 

“Hi, Bucky, can I sit here? You look busy, do you need any help?” He sighs exasperatedly as you settle. “Fucking kids.”

“You’re a super soldier, old man, you don’t need my help,” you respond as you roll your eyes, stretching your legs out on the couch now. 

The bag from the mall sits on the floor next to you. “But, I do need your help, Barnes.”

He eyes the bag, and he doesn’t recognize the logo. He gestures over to it, “What’d you get?”

“If I tell you, do you promise to help me?”

Bucky sighs again. “Maybe, I guess.”

“God, you’re the worst,” you joke. You lift your feet so he can sit down with you, resting them on his lap again once he’s comfortable. 

At this point, he’s almost become an older brother to you.

A 100+ year old, older brother. 

“So, Yelena and I were running that simulation the other night, 14,” you say. 

He nods in response. 

“I fucked up, got distracted and got hit. But then something happened, and that’s why I went to the mall.”

Bucky just stares at you, completely fucking lost. 

“Anyway, the sim, it knocked me on my ass, and I was struggling a bit. Yelena, she…” you close your eyes, thinking of what to say next.

 “She came over to help me, like rushed to help me. Then she asked if she could check for any injuries, and it hurt, okay, so I was like ‘what the hell’.”

He nods again. 

“It got me in the stomach. She was so concerned that it did damage, and I told her she could look to make sure, right? She lifted up my shirt and saw my tattoo- I forget that you guys don’t know…” you trail off, Barnes tries his best to act surprised at this ‘new’ fact. 

You lift up your shirt a bit, gesturing to the moth. He looks at it, and nods again. 

“And Bucky I swear on my life I witnessed her short-circuit. I’ve never seen her look like that. Like… a deer in headlights.” You’re fully ranting now, your rate of speech is speeding up and you can’t seem to stop. 

“OH! I also showed her the ones on my legs a little bit.” You point, instructing him to lift your pant leg a bit since they are still resting in his lap. 

He does, looking just enough to know that you do, indeed, have tattoos.

Bucky’s brows raise at the sheer amount of information you’re throwing at him. 

“So, here’s my plan, okay? I picked this up-” you reach for the bag, fumbling around, the tag getting caught on the handle as you pull it out.

You curse a bit under your breath at the hiccup. 

“So I picked this up,” you hold up the two pieces one by one, “What do you think?”

“That’s nice.”

“That’s what the lady at the store said! SO, I think that I’m going to wear this tonight for the movie, because I have this sneaking suspicion that maybe she… likes me?”

You shake your head and rub your temples with your fingers, feeling stupid for even thinking this. 

“But I also can’t tell if it’s that, or if she just thinks my tattoos are cool? Like, I know they are, don’t get me wrong, but-” You’re still rushing, and are barely taking breaths between your words at this point. 

Bucky can’t take it, finally cutting you off.

“You should do it.” 

He pats on your legs, hauls them up, and lets them fall back down to the couch as he stands. 

“But, Bucky, I-” You attempt to interject, because you still need to ask him about the Peter situation, but he’s already walking away. 

“Sorry kid, I really have to go help Wilson!” He shrugs, a smile on his face as he backs into the hall.

“Good luck!”

“Shit, shit, shit,” you mutter, standing up as well, stuffing the pajamas back into the bag. You check your watch too, you’ve got thirty minutes. 

When you make it back to your room, you hop in the shower and allow the steam to roll over you, calming your racing mind. 

You shave your legs.

Once you dry off you immediately faceplant into the comforter.

“Ughhhhh,” you moan into it. “Why the fuck am I doing this?”

The outfit is laying next to you, practically taunting you at this point. 

Ten minutes. 

The pajamas are on. They’re soft, but you’re not sure you’d buy something silk again.

You lather on some lotion, causing the tattoos to pop even more. 

As you look in the mirror, you aren’t… upset with what you see in the reflection.

The material stretches slightly over your muscles, and the pants hit right above your mid-thigh, allowing almost all of your ink to show.

Your legs are littered with scars from the experiments you endured that brought you your magic, and the tattoos help to hide any marks that linger. Now, no one would notice unless they were looking for them. 

It’s all American traditional, the classic red, blue, and yellow altered into brighter pastels. One leg is teeming with life; colorful plants, bugs, animals, and unique pinups (witch included), the filler in between is all small stars.

The other lacks any color and is a depiction of death: decaying leaves, withering ivy, a coffin, a plague doctor, spiders, and the filler is small bats this time. 

The deep cherry color of the fabric compliments your skin tone nicely, and the way the pattern meshes against the trailing flowers and vines on your thighs is nothing short of eye-catching.

Your muscles here are on full display, the curves of them still visible under the distracting ink.

You take it all in. Dare you say that you look.. hot?

A smirk crosses your face as the thought flashes in your mind, and a pink aura surrounds you as your ego is slightly boosted. 

Five minutes. 

When you realize the time, a quiet “Shit,” escapes you.

You quickly walk to your bathroom, clasping on a necklace and watch. You snag a pair of fuzzy socks out of the dresser, and check your hair one more time.

The lotion was scented, but you spray on a bit of your favorite perfume anyway.

You smell of vanilla and dahlias.

✨ taglist ✨

@verynormalsstuff

[celestialseph]

hymn to virgil (part iii)

read parts i and ii here!

pairing: Yelena Belova x Fem!Witch!reader

summary: Yelena is notoriously difficult to get close to- she has a hard time opening up or connecting with all she's been through. However, after two years of working together, she... seems to have a soft spot for you? Your teammates have started to take note of this, and after a mishap on a mission, you start to think that maybe something is up with the former widow.

warnings: little to no descriptors of reader’s features, mentions of insecurities, canon typical violence, canon divergence, knives, cursing, fluff, Yelena's a Simp, tattoos, minor injury, gay panic, eventual smut maybe, tags will be added as we go!!

word count: 1.4k

Three days later, it’s movie night at the compound.

You still haven’t had the chance to sit down with Barnes or Parker to pull information out of them, and honestly, you’re kind of losing your mind. 

After the interaction during the training sim with Yelena, you can’t stop thinking about the way she looked at you.

You generally forget that you have tattoos- they litter both legs, your stomach, your back, but your arms are free of ink save for a small moon and stars on your wrist that’s always covered by a watch.

You’re not surprised that Yelena hadn’t seen them yet.

You’re not one to show more skin than just your arms, the insecurities surrounding your body normally getting the better of you. Your suit is full-coverage, and you don’t think you own a single pair of shorts. 

The other members of your team haven’t seen them either, except Wanda, who accidently hit you with a blast of magic one day during practice that burned a hole through your pant leg. You’d given her a small tour, but she never saw them fully. 

Watching Yelena take in some of the art on your body had apparently boosted your confidence, because for the first time probably ever, you thought that maybe you should go buy some pajama shorts and wear them to movie night. 

So here you are, standing at the mall, intimidated as hell by the amount of stores and people surrounding you.

The search lasts for probably thirty minutes before you’re able to find something that piques your interest: a matching silk set, deep red with pink florals. The bottoms aren’t terribly short like most of the others, the top a button-up long sleeve.

You’re a little hesitant as you stand in line to check out, but determined to actually show off the ink that you’ve spent so much money on over the years. 

The lady rings you up and she compliments your choice, then you thank her and head back to the parking garage. 

Three hours until movie night. 

Meanwhile back at the compound, Yelena is having a full-blown meltdown as she confides in Bucky.

He was simply trying to read a new book he picked up last week in the comfort of his bed when the blonde barges in without knocking. 

“James,” she says matter-of-factly. “I need help.”

Before the poor man can respond, she’s groaning and depositing herself on the floor, sitting criss-crossed in front of him. 

“Hi, Bucky, can I come in? Great to see you, can we chat?” He mocks, eyes still skimming the pages. 

“No time.” She mutters, “I have a problem. Did you know she has tattoos?”

“Who are we talking about?” Barnes questions.

“You know who I am talking about! She has so manyyyy,” she whines, her head lolls back, and she dramatically allows her body to follow, hitting the floor with a light thud.

She’s clearly miserable. 

Bucky knows she’s talking about you based on the way she’s had these same (multiple) breakdowns over some random thing (petting a stray cat, bringing her snacks, humming when you have headphones in, you fucking name it) you’ve done previously.

“I didn’t, but it wouldn’t surprise me.” He shrugs, unfazed. 

She’s still groaning as she lays there.

“I think she is trying to kill me, James.”

“She is not trying to kill you, Yelena.”

“But- she is so cool already, and now she is so much cooler. I did not even get to see them all. How am I supposed to make it through the movie,” she whines, throwing her arm over her eyes. 

“You watch the movie, Yelena. That’s literally all you need to do.” Bucky sighs, finally placing his book on the side table to give her his full attention.

“I don’t know why you won’t just talk to her. You clearly have a crush.”

The blonde sits up again, an offended look on her face, “No I do not!”

“Yes you do.”

“I-” she takes a moment to compose herself before whispering.

“James, I am a widow. We do not have crushes, we do not get that luxury,” her eyes quickly grow watery as a hardened, solemn look falls across her face. 

Bucky knows this feeling all too well, understanding how hard it is to allow yourself some comfort, some freedom, after not having autonomy over your body or mind for the majority of your life.

James still finds it difficult, even though he’s had more time to be himself than Yelena has been able to be herself.

Plus, he’s always had a soft spot for her. No matter how much she pushes his buttons. 

He sees himself in her.

So, Bucky gets out of bed, and walks over to her. He places himself next to her on the floor.

“You are not a widow anymore. You are Yelena Belova. A Red Room-trained assassin, yes, but that is not all you are.”

He places a hand softly on her knee.

“I know this is hard. I understand more than anyone else here what you have been through. We were used as weapons and had no other option.” His voice is gentle, treading lightly.

“But, allow yourself some… grace, kid. Have fun, get into shit, live the life they never let you dream about.”

A small sob escapes her as she leans against his metal shoulder, the coolness of it refreshing on her heated face.

“It’s gonna be a struggle, but fuck, Yelena, it’s so worth it to feel things wholly after a lifetime of being controlled.”

He lifts his arm and wraps it around her, pulling her in against his side, enveloping her in a firm hug.

“Just because you weren’t allowed to have compassion or empathy or a chance to love things… that doesn’t mean you can’t start now.”

They sit like this for a minute, Bucky keeping a tight grip on her, a reminder that he’s here for her. He showers her with words of affirmation, hoping that he may be able to break through to her.

Once Yelena’s breathing is steady and her sniffles start to subside, he has a Thought.

Bucky is observant, it comes with the job. He sees the way you keep an eye on Yelena in the field, checking in on her far more than you do anyone else. Watches as you trail behind her more than Wanda now, and how you laugh at every single one of her stupid fucking jokes. 

James has a soft spot for you as well. He knows how much your anxiety can bother you, the way some days it’s hard for you to even get out of bed.

He’d taken you under his wing, seeing just how lost you were when you came to the compound.

You reminded him of Yelena.

But, he’s also witnessed you improve with both your talents in the field and your mental health. Hell, he hardly has to remind you to take your meds anymore (take notes, Parker).

He can’t deny that Yelena has helped with this too, sparring with you working to build your strength from the beginning, so you could be more comfortable on missions.

So maybe, just maybe, this could be beneficial for the both of you. 

“And, who knows, kid. Maybe she likes you too.” 

The blonde can’t see the shit-eating grin that spreads across Bucky’s face as he says it, but she hears it.

Yelena instantly pulls out of his grasp, examining him closely. 

“James, what are you talking about,” Yelena replies, her face hard. “Has she said something?”

Bucky hasn’t spoken to you about it yet, what him and Peter have been talking about. 

He hasn’t told you that Yelena fawns over you when you aren’t looking. About the way she keeps your favorite snacks in her room where she keeps her weapons, how she places them inside her vest before missions just in case the jet doesn’t have them on the way back to the compound. 

He hasn’t gotten to tell you that the assassin literally forces him and Parker to listen to her rant about how pretty you look when you’re in the heat of a battle. How she loves to watch the way your powers swirl around you while you and Wanda work to cover the team from above, even as debris falls around her on the ground.

He hasn’t had the chance to let you know that Yelena Belova, a former black widow, a world-class assassin, would willingly throw herself in front of the worst enemies imaginable if it meant keeping you safe and happy. 

Hasn’t been able to tell you that Yelena is a fucking simp for you.

“No, but I have a hunch.”

✨ taglist ✨

@verynormalsstuff

[celestialseph]

hymn to virgil (part ii)

read part i here!

pairing: Yelena Belova x Fem!Witch!reader

summary: Yelena is notoriously difficult to get close to- she has a hard time opening up or connecting with all she's been through. However, after two years of working together, she... seems to have a soft spot for you? Your teammates have started to take note of this, and after a mishap on a mission, you start to think that maybe something is up with the former widow.

warnings: little to no descriptors of reader’s features, mentions of insecurities, canon typical violence, canon divergence, knives, cursing, fluff, Yelena's a Simp, tattoos, minor injury, gay panic, eventual smut maybe, tags will be added as we go!!

authors note: find me on ao3 as well! posting this so soon because it's already on there, lol. enjoy ✨

word count: 2.6k

You don’t get a chance to corner Peter that night when you get to the compound, with it being late in the evening and him having class the next morning (you truly don’t know how he does it).

You’re left now with your racing thoughts, of what the hell Peter and Bucky were talking about. You wonder if you could track down Bucky instead…

After a hot shower and slipping into some soft pajamas, you decide to make your way to the kitchen two floors down.

Luckily, Bucky is there making food with Sam. Unfortunately, Yelena is sitting at the island in front of them, snacking on a handful of Cheez-Its, sharing the box with Kate. 

Your growing suspicion that Barnes and Parker were somehow talking about Yelena being a fucking simp- and not people simping over Amanda from Smosh- gnaws at you.

“Okay, so, you have to get Bucky alone,” you whisper to yourself in the doorway of the elevator. 

You try to devise a plan as you walk into the room, maybe you could ask for Barnes’ help with something? What could he not refuse.

“Hey, guys! What’s on the menu tonight?” You say with a smile as you reach the group, leaning on the edge of the counter next to the stove. 

They all greet you, and Wilson replies cheerily, “We’ve got some pasta going, and there’s chicken in the oven, and there is also a pot of boxed mac and cheese on for Yelena,” he rolls his eyes when he mentions the Russian’s favorite food. 

“Why do you dislike it so much? It is so good, and so versatile!” Yelena pipes up defensively, throwing her hands up in the air for dramatics. It makes everyone chuckle, and she feigns offence at the reaction.

It’s now or never.  Get Bucky out of here so you can pick his brain.

You lean a little further on the counter, closer to Bucky who is currently stirring both pastas.

“Barnes, after the whole… goo… incident today, would you want to help me with some target practice? Maybe run some simulations?” 

Bucky turns to you as you speak, but before he can even open his mouth, Yelena is interjecting. 

“I will help you! This sounds like fun, and we all know that I am a better shot than James, anyway.” She’s out of her seat now, already walking towards the elevator. 

Sam is doubled over at her jest towards Bucky, and Bucky is still standing with his mouth open, looking between you and Yelena. 

You have a hard look in your eye, clearly frustrated. Pleading? He can’t read you fully in the moment. 

Yelena is impatiently pressing the buttons as she turns back towards you. “Well, come on! Let’s go destroy things!” She yells, ushering you to follow as the doors open. 

You look between her and Bucky, shooting him glare as he simply shrugs and smirks. 

Somewhat defeated that your tactic didn’t work, you follow Yelena into the elevator, pressing the button for the floor the simulation rooms are on. 

“This will be fun! We do not get to practice together often.” She looks over to you, bumping you with her shoulder as she speaks. 

The blonde’s bright demeanor always seems to rub off on you, instantly feeling the irritation fade away.

“You’re right, I feel like Wanda and I always end up doing our own thing.” You turn to her as you speak, taking in her still-damp hair from her own shower, and the lack of her signature eyeliner. 

She’s wearing sweats and a tank top, the tattoo on said shoulder that she got in memory of Natasha on full display. 

You smile at it, admiring the flowers and Cryllic letters that trail from the base of her neck to her elbow. 

She watches you as you look, a smirk crossing her own face. “Do you have any of your own, киса?” 

“Yeah, a few.” You chuckle- realizing that most of your ink typically hides beneath your clothes or your suit.

You’re wearing some yoga pants and a long sleeve shirt, so you bend to lift your pant legs, pulling them up to just over your knee.

This allows her have a peek at the colorful traditional flowers, pinups, and… cat portraits, almost fully covering your right leg. 

The left is littered with black and grey traditional- dead vines, bats, and a large dagger spanning the inside of your calf. 

You observe her expressions as she examines them, moving around you in the small elevator to get a better look. “Wow…” she whispers. 

“Life and death,” you state. “The same style, but one side representing bright, light things. The other, decay and ruin.” 

She takes particular interest in the dagger, naturally, and reaches out to turn your leg ever so slightly so she can see it more clearly. 

“These… these are beautiful, I had no idea you had such a love for tattoos,” she mutters, her voice still soft. 

You arrive at your floor as she says this, the doors opening up onto the training floor.

“Well now you know, Belova,” you tease lightly, “Now come on, let’s fuck some shit up.”

You allow your pant legs to fall as you step into the room, leaving Yelena trailing behind you, her jaw slack- clearly unable to digest the fact that you’ve hidden the tattoos for so long. 

You approach the screen on the wall, and start to scroll through the list of simulations.

“So, I didn’t really have anything specific in mind,” you attempt to ground yourself, trying your best to put Peter and Bucky’s words out of your brain for the time being.

Yelena is soon coming up next to you, humming in contemplation. 

The two of you assess the options, and she perks up at one- “Here, this will be good to help you with the targets. The enemies are easy to lock onto, but there are lots.”

She presses it before you can even really take a look, the system whirring to life.

An automated voice rings out, “You have 90 seconds. Gather your supplies, get into position.”

“Yelena!” You screech over the noise, “I wasn’t ready! Oh, my god-”

As she runs over to the weapons bench, the assassin lets out a fucking cackle. The audacity.

“You have more than enough time! You do not even have to choose what you will kill them with!” She’s picking through knives and throws a gun across her back, placing widow’s bites snugly on her wrists. 

“Oh my god,” you whisper again at her retorts. “Still! I-”

“You have 30 seconds.”

You haven’t used this sim before, and are scrambling to find the starting point, a slight panic starting to overcome you for the second time today.

“Yelena!” You whine, “Where the FUCK DO I GO?”

The holograms begin to come into view, creatures start to materialize that are akin to the Chitauri.

Your whole body begins to light up, pink tendrils coming from your hands already.

“Oh, you are okay, look.” She is waltzing over to you, in absolutely zero rush, and points to a small box on the floor glowing green.

You wave your hands frantically as you search the floor.

Yelena comes up behind you,  her hands resting on your hips, maneuvering you to where you need to be. 

“Here,” she says.

“10 seconds.”

She cooly takes her place in another box about five feet to your right, and flips a blade in each hand. She grips them easily when they fall into place.

You’re honestly more focused on her confidence than anything right now, watching as she fixes her stance, readying for the fight. 

She takes note of  your glances, and flexes her muscles the tiniest bit before she shakes off. 

“You ready, киса?” She’s got a grin on her face, and she winks at you before turning to the holograms in front of the two of you.

You roll your eyes just a bit at her cockiness, muttering “As I’ll fucking ever be.”

You prepare your stance as well, raising your hands in the direction of the enemies and allowing balls of magic to form in your palms. 

“Commencing simulation 14.”

The electronics come to life, creatures beginning to growl and hiss and move erratically.

Within seconds, both Yelena and yourself are locked in. There are blasts of power coming from you, taking out the holograms or moving fake objects to throw into them.

Yelena is switching between all her weapons, knives flying and bullets ringing out interchangeably. She’s jumping and flipping over the opponents as they come her way. 

About seven minutes in, you’ve become irritated with the way that the holograms move. They’re jumpy and jolt in all directions, making it hard for you to catch them in just the right spot. 

Yelena is killing it. She’s smoothly taking out the enemies with headshots, seemingly without breaking a sweat or letting a hair get out of place. 

In just the split second you take to check in on your teammate, one of the creatures sneaks up on you, the advanced technology causing it to solidify as it approaches.

The thing crashes into your stomach, making you to collapse and land right on your ass on impact. 

A hot, bright, pink flash waves out of you as you hit the ground. You roll onto your side, and let out a small groan. 

As Yelena hears and sees the commotion, she yells “STOP!”

The simulation immediately begins to fade, the sounds and lights falling away quickly.

She rushes to you, dropping to her knees at your side.

You’re clutching your stomach, hands still glowing and warm. 

“Oh, no,” she whispers at your state.

“Are you okay? What happened?” Yelena lightly situates a hand under your shoulder that’s on the ground, and places the other on top of your own resting on your stomach.

She jumps slightly at the heat of your hand, feeling the warmth even through her glove.

“Yeah,” you say, breathy and out of it, “I’m fine, just… got the wind knocked out of me.”

“Where are you hurt? How did it happen?” Her brows knit together, she almost looks scared. 

“I just wasn’t focused enough, was pulling my punches and it caught me off guard.” You groan again. “Got me in the abdomen, but I’ll be okay.”

She examines your face as well now, trying to make sure you’re telling the truth. 

Hesitantly, she asks, “Do you mind if I take a look?”

Her hands are still hovering over your stomach and holding onto your shoulder, respectively. She’s watching you expectantly, nerves starting to get the best of her as the hand not touching you begins to shake slightly. 

Normally, when someone takes a hit from a hologram, it doesn’t leave permanent damage. Bruises happen frequently, there’s an occasional scratch, and only two bones have been broken (ahem, Peter, Kate). 

With the amount of pain you’re in, you figure it wouldn’t hurt for her to double check that there’s nothing of concern. You nod, “Sure, yeah, that’s fine.”

“Okay,” Yelena replies quietly, attempting to soothe you with her tone.

She removes her hand from your shoulder, the movement jostling you slightly as you press flat against the floor now. 

You let out a small cry as the pain begins to radiate. 

“I’m sorry,” she murmurs. “Can I see?”

You nod, not wanting to risk speaking at the moment.

The assassin moves to carefully lift the hem of your shirt to allow her to check for any signs of injury.

She lets out a small gasp as she sees the entirety of your stomach.

“Ugh, shit,” you say. “Is it that bad?”

“No- no, no,” she rushes out. 

“You.. have more tattoos,” her voice is quiet and there is a lilt to it that makes it seem like a question.

A chuckle slips out of you, leading you to whine again at the way the pain stabs at you as your stomach moves, a small burst of magic escaping you again at the feeling.

“Sorry. Yes, I do. I’ve got a lot.”

She seems to be in awe of you again, maybe surprised, as she admires the way the large moth fully envelops your abdomen. The tops of the wings rest right below your bra line. 

You have to break Yelena out of her trance-like state as she begins to run her fingertips along the lines of the moth’s wings.

It makes you shiver, a hand instinctively grasping her wrist as it moves against you, hoping to avoid another jolt from the injury.

You don’t expect her to meet your gaze so quickly when you do so, but she locks onto you immediately.

Her eyes are dark and unreadable, her lips are slightly parted. 

You’ve never seen her look like this, and her face flushes ever so lightly as you examine her expression.

Magic starts to leave you again as her eyes bore into you, the warmth soaking into her wrist.

Yelena doesn’t move a muscle, her stare unwavering.

As soon as you recognize the pink glow, you retract your hand, a “Sorry” leaving your lips quietly. 

This seemed to finally end her stupor, the assassin pulling her eyes away to follow your hand.

“No, I…” she says, her tone low. “I did not mean to,” she stumbles over her words. “I am sorry- you just, I had no idea.”

A small smile crosses your face as she apologizes, “It’s alright, what can I say?” You try to hold down another laugh. “I’m full of surprises.”

Yelena seems to soften at this, a smirk tugging at her lips, “Apparently you are.” 

“So,” you say, “any damage, doctor?” 

She stumbles once again, “Um, is it, is it okay if I feel around? It may hurt.” 

You nod, bracing yourself for the way she starts to press her hands into different locations on your stomach.

When she reaches the tender spots where you took the hit, your hands clench at your sides as you try to restrain the magic.

She continues to poke and prod for a minute or so, ruling out any major damage.

“Okay,” she sighs, leaning up and sitting back down on her heels.

“Nothing seems out of place. You have a large area of redness that you should keep your eye on. It will bruise, but other than this, you will be okay.”

Yelena gently moves your shirt back down as she finishes her assessment. She stands, offering to help you up with an outstretched hand.

You take it, groaning and wincing as she hauls you off the floor. As you gain your balance, you look towards her.

The blonde avoids your gaze, a hint of blush still lingers on her cheeks and nose. 

“Thank you, Belova.” You move towards her, causing her eyes to finally meet yours again. “I really appreciate it, sorry I cut our practice short.”

She chuckles at this, and the sound makes you smile.

Yelena doesn’t respond, so you clasp a hand on her shoulder as she had done to you just minutes ago- “Let’s go grab some food upstairs, yeah?”

This time, her face fully lights up. “Yes, please, I am starving!”

The two of you start to walk back towards the elevator, and when you reach the doors she pipes up again, “Do you think Wilson sabotaged my mac and cheese?” 

It takes everything in you to not collapse with laughter. “Honestly, if he did, I would fucking kill him,” you reply with a fully straight face.

She does not have the same control, nearly hysterical at your comment as she presses the floor’s button repeatedly once again. 

When the doors close and she has regained some semblance of composure, you turn back to Yelena, “No, I swear to god if he messed it up, I will throw him off the roof. No wings.”

She howls at the comment, and is still chuckling by the time the elevator opens up to the kitchen.

✨ taglist ✨

@verynormalsstuff

[celestialseph]

hymn to virgil

pairing: Yelena Belova x Fem!Witch!reader

summary: Yelena is notoriously difficult to get close to- she has a hard time opening up or connecting with all she's been through. However, after two years of working together, she... seems to have a soft spot for you? What you don't know is that your teammates have started to take note of this, and after a mishap on a mission, you start to think that maybe something is up with the former widow.

warnings: little to no descriptors of reader’s features, mentions of sensory issues and insecurities, canon typical violence, canon divergence, knives, cursing, fluff, Yelena's a Simp, Bucky is a good friend, eventual smut maybe (will be posted in individual chapter warnings!), tags will be added as we go!!

word count: 3.4k

authors note: Hiiiii who knew I’d end up posting my self-insert to tumblr?? Anyway, this started as a “maybe I want to write a knifeplay fic, I can get it done in 5k words,” and has turned into a fucking monster. I’ve got a few more chapters done, so this will be posted in parts! (Title from Hozier!)

*ALSO* would like to note that I agree fully with the comic-canon of Yelena being aroace!!! As I said, this is straight up self service at this point. If anything romantic/smutty happens, it’s just for me honestly. I will label it appropriately if it does make it in. Thanks for reading, enjoy ✨

You were always in awe of your teammates - never afraid to get in the middle of the action and get their hands dirty. However, you could not relate. 

To say that being able to control and move things with your mind from a distance is a blessing… would be an understatement. For as long as you could remember, touching anything sticky or slimy and not being able to immediately wash it off, can send you into a spiral. 

To be fair, many of your coworkers have sensory issues of their own: Peter refuses to touch microfiber, because he has chronically dry hands and he “always forgets” to use the nice lotion you bought for him. 

Bucky hates whipped frosting on anything because it leaves a weird film on his tongue, so Sam makes it a point to buy whipped-frosting cupcakes for any occasion. 

Kate despises the way that mud feels when it dries on her skin, making it anyone else’s responsibility to play outside with Lucky in the rain. 

From what you knew of Natasha, she could never stand velvet. Once, Tony had ordered her a velvet dress for an undercover mission and was insistent that she wore it because it “matched the theme of the gala.” He wouldn’t take no for an answer, so she took one of his suits outside, put multiple grenades in it, and laughed while watching it blow up. Allegedly. 

Yelena is no different with her aversions, strongly disliking the way that sweatshirts pill up on the inside after getting some good use. While her and Natasha may not have been truly related, they do (allegedly) take out their frustrations the same way. 

The other day, you’d been heading to your car and found Yelena standing over a smoldering pile of fabric. When you asked her what the hell was going on, she simply replied, “They were getting scratchy.” and shrugged before walking off. 

When she’s in her element though, Yelena has no issues being drenched in your worst nightmares, getting back on the quinjet coated in blood and gore. Maybe it was a Russian thing, because Bucky is no different. They’d stroll up the ramp, grab a clean cloth, and start wiping down their weapons without a second thought spared for the enemy’s brains stuck in their hair. 

Sometimes it makes you gag, just imagining the feeling of blood between your fingers. 

Now you’re here, on a mission fighting some massive, ungodly creatures from who-knows-where. 

Picking a target across the street, you lift a sprinter van off the ground with a pink tendril of magic, and throw the car towards the monster. Apparently, you had fully underestimated the range at which the green… goo of their insides would splatter. The impact and subsequent explosion caused their viscera to splash all over your face and torso, making you freeze and rendering you unable to move. 

Feeling the way it starts to run down your skin and cling to your suit makes the panic start to set in. 

Your voice is scratchy and small as you speak into your earpiece. 

“Uh, guys, can I have some assistance over here? Please? I’m sorry- I just…” trailing off into a whine and trying to stop yourself from crying. 

Yelena is the first person you see. She’s on top of a neighboring building, blonde hair shimmering in the sunlight, engaging in hand-to-hand combat with one of the more humanoid creatures. 

The moment she hears you, her eyes begin to search the area- locking onto you almost instantly. You can’t quite read the expression on her face from this far away, but her movements somehow quicken as she kicks the enemy, pulling two knives off her sides and shoving them into its neck.

At this point you’ve dropped to your knees, hands held out in front of you, a slight pink glow emanating from your skin, your anxiety starting to visibly radiate off you. 

The Russian’s smooth, even tone rings in your ears, assuring that she is on her way. Your eyes trail back up towards her, catching sight of her hooking the ledge of the building before throwing herself off the roof with practiced ease. 

Your gaze shifts back to your hands, and a sob escapes you now that the slime has started to cool and dry onto your skin. You are soon aware of Yelena’s presence as her shadow falls over you, a quiet “Shhhh,” hitting your ears. 

“We’ve got to get you away from here, киса, up, up.” Hearing her nickname for you eases your panic slightly, knowing you’re safe now that a teammate has made it to you. 

Her gloved hands rest on the sides of your torso, gently urging you off the concrete. 

You stand slowly, her voice muttering, “It’s alright, I got you, come this way,” as she ushers you towards the back of a nearby alley, away from the middle of the action. 

Her voice raises and hardens slightly as she calls out for Barnes, giving him an update in Russian over the comms. You sense urgency in her tone, some anxiety of her own blending into the words she says. 

She leans you against the brick wall, the coolness shocking you out of your current state, making you shiver slightly as she guides you back to the ground. 

Once you get settled, and the pink aura around you starts to dissipate, you notice Yelena fumbling around with the pockets of her vest. 

She’s muttering and cursing to herself, and apologizes when she notices your brows furrow. 

“Sorry, it’s new, I can’t- fuck, where are they…” she trails off while still rummaging. 

You can’t really comprehend how long it takes, but she suddenly exclaims “YES! Ha! I knew I did not forget them!” 

You jump at the noise. 

“Oh, I am sorry, but look!” 

She pulls out a little Ziploc baggie with… baby wipes. 

A goofy grin stretches across her face.

“Yelena, what is that, what are you doing?” You ask as she pulls a wipe from the bag, reaching for your temple. 

You flinch slightly at the sudden movement.

“Sorry, I’m sorry, it is just a wet wipe.” She says as she retracts her hand, a look of concern taking over. She waits to move again until you consent.

“Why? Why do you have them?” Your brows knit together again, eyes questioning, confusion evident. 

Yelena is not one to worry about her own hygiene while on missions, more worried about stashing snacks on her person and on jets. 

Her head cocks to the side a bit before stating, “They are for this! You do not like when things get on you, no? You almost throw up when cracking eggs, and won’t touch Fanny or Lucky’s toys if they are wet. I keep them to help you!” 

She outstretches the wipe once again, eyes questioning if she can go ahead. 

You give her a small nod, and gesture to have one for yourself. 

She passes you the one she has been holding, no longer pristine and white as the goo on her own hands has rubbed off on it as well. 

Yelena grabs another, and works to wipe off your forehead as you attempt to clean your hands, trying not to look as you do so. 

Kate’s voice in your ear causes you to jump again, and you feel the blonde’s other hand come to rest on your shoulder to ground you. 

Kate is muffled, but you think she mentions Maria expediting extraction and sharing the meetup location. 

Barnes, Sam, and Peter all respond with their understanding.

Yelena grabs another wipe after tossing the original to the side, and offers you a fresh one as well. You accept, and continue to work on cleaning up your wrists and arms. 

She starts on trying to get some chunks out of your hair when she is abruptly interrupted by a creature growling from the mouth of the alley. 

Naturally, your hands begin to warm and glow, prepping for an attack, but Yelena is already up and striding away towards the monster. 

She pulls out her knives again, closing the distance without hesitation. The assassin throws one from at least ten feet away, the blade settling straight in the enemy’s torso. It seems to be caught off guard, a loud cry coming from its throat as it stumbles. 

She screams as she picks up speed, reaching for a larger weapon before launching herself off the side of a garbage bin. She lands on the shoulders of the creature, shoving one of the knives into an eye, and using the larger blade to slit its throat in a quick, smooth motion. 

The gash is deep, and they both quickly fall to the ground. 

You watch helplessly, still sitting down and holding the wipe between your fingers. 

Yelena easily slips out from beneath the large figure, she then rolls it on its back, pulling each of the knives from where they are embedded. She wipes the metal along her thighs to clean up some of the mess, before coolly making her way back towards you. 

She is ruthless. A killing machine. Raised to murder and then run. Watching her take out enemies never fails to shock you. 

Her brutal nature rivals Bucky’s, as they are fearless even when using such small weapons or even their bare hands. They walk away unphased, like they didn’t brutally take a life or blow up a building. 

And yet, here she is, walking right back up to you with a look of worry etched in her features. 

“Are you alright, киса? The jet will be here any moment.”

You don’t realize you’ve been staring. She calls to you again, hesitant. 

“Yes, yes I’m alright, ‘Lena, thank you.” 

You reach for the Ziploc and hand it to her, feeling decently clean compared to how you started. 

She accepts it, still holding her blades now all in one hand. The blonde pulls out a wipe, and begins to carefully clean the crevices of the knives. 

You giggle and roll your head back. 

She glares. 

“Why are you laughing?” Her eyes are focused, and she pulls another wipe out for the next weapon. 

You keep chuckling, “Yelena, please, your gloves are covered in green! Why would you not clean them first? You are going to keep getting goo all over your things.”

She looks quizzically between you, the wipes, and the knives. 

“But there will not be enough baby cleaners to use on myself and on them! Why would I waste using on me?”

An explanation starts to leave your mouth when the sound of the quinjet can be heard overhead, comms lighting up with instructions quickly after. 

Yelena helps you up and brushes your shoulders off, shaking you lightly for reassurance. You both head towards the street, seeing your team already gathering. 

Bucky is equally as covered in shit as Yelena is, but that’s to be expected at this point. 

“You okay, kid?” He starts to walk towards you, and you nod. He pulls you under his metal arm as the jet lands, and you all start to make your way over.

“I’m okay. Could be better, just can’t wait for a fucking shower, man.” 

The two of you laugh, but you do need to give credit to Yelena. 

“It’s really all thanks to Lena, though,” you lower your voice to a whisper before asking “did you know she keeps wet wipes in her vest for me?”

A deep, hearty laugh leaves Bucky as a grin slides across his face. 

“I did not, but that’s fuckin’ hilarious. Never knew she’d be such a softy, never pegged her as this much of a simp.”

You stop dead in your tracks, causing Bucky to stumble. 

“James. What the actual shit did you just say to me? ‘Simp’? Who the hell are you?” 

He doesn’t really know what to say, concerned that he had said something wrong. 

“Uh, Peter- he,” he gestured to the kid ahead of them, “he told me that it means like, ‘head over heels’ or some shit like that?”

“Why on god’s green earth would he be teaching you that? You’re literally so old. You don’t need to be saying that.” 

Bucky pulls you back into him, both of you trying not to lose your breath from laughing. 

Yelena and Kate have already made it to the jet and the blonde yells out once she makes it inside. 

“Hey, nerds! Hurry! There are snacks in here guys!” She holds up some Goldfish and granola bars as she frantically waves her hands at you. 

Once everyone has boarded and you start towards the compound, you make your way to where Peter is double-fisting bags of Gushers. 

“Spoods, are you sure you need that much sugar?”

“Listen, my blood sugar drops after so much activity! Gotta restock the energy, y’know?” He says, through a mouth full of fruit snacks. 

“Mhm, yeah okay, Pete. Anyway, got a question for you.”

“Sure, hit me. Not physically, please!” He yelps as you make your way closer to him.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re fine. So. Bucky said that you’ve been teaching him some slang? How did you manage to use ‘simp’ in a conversation with that man? Because color me intrigued.” You ask, sitting down next to him in a row of seats, starting to snack on some carrots. 

Peter’s face instantly turns as red as his suit as he stutters and reaches for another pack of Gushers. 

“Nuh-uh. None of that. You have to tell me, because I am hella suspicious of you. Don’t make me whip out the magic in the jet, I know you hate the turbulence it causes.” 

You’ve snatched the Gushers out of his hands, and make the threat when he grabs for the actual box. 

“Who were you talking about when ‘simp’ came up in the conversation, Spidey.”

“No one! I was making him watch Smosh! Um, specifically the Submissive and Breedable music video with bbno$!” 

His words come out so fast that you can barely comprehend it. 

“He, um, he commented on Amanda being hot! And I told him that everyone simps over her!”

“I do not believe you. No shot Barnes would not have commented on Amanda, he would have seen bbno$ and passed out because that man is gay as hell. Don’t lie to me.” You say incredulously, rolling your eyes dramatically. 

Peter leans into you, voice soft. 

“Listen, can we talk about this later? I promise I’ll tell you the truth?” 

He’s hesitant, and his eyes flicker behind you for a fraction of a second before shifting his gaze out the window, then back to you. 

You narrow your own eyes at him before turning to look behind you. 

Yelena and Kate are seated across the aisle now, Maria standing with her arms resting on the back of their seats. Kate has her back to you, but she’s animatedly telling Maria about the fight, gesturing with her hands, ponytail bouncing as she moves. 

Yelena has her cleaning kit laid across her and Kate’s laps, four blades resting on the leather mat, another in her hands. She’s finally taken off her gloves, and is using a clean cloth and a bottle of water to wipe them down. 

Bucky yells out to her in Russian, and she tosses the water over to him. 

You turn to find Barnes, standing next to the small table, with Wilson across from him. They are both also cleaning their weapons- Bucky using a cloth and the water to clean his knives, Sam making a show of wiping down Redwing. Bucky scoffs and shoots Sam an annoyed glare. 

“Kate, oh my god, please stop moving!” Yelena groans, causing your attention to shift back to the group of women. 

She’s attempting to keep her knives on the kit as the archer continues to explain the mission.

“I’m sorry! It was just so cool, did you not see the way it fell? It was like out of a movie, man!” Kate replies, the leather shifting on her lap again as two of the weapons hit the floor.

Yelena curses in her native tongue, making Barnes whip his head up, yelling “Woah, woah, woah, language, Belova!” 

She gruffly responds to him, clearly irritated. 

Bucky then calls for Peter to join him and Wilson. The kid stands and starts to walk away before turning back to you. 

“Deal? Later?” 

You roll your eyes once again and reply “Yeah, whatever, deal.” 

The plastic of the trial mix bag crinkles as you raise it and pour some in your mouth. You close your eyes and crack your neck as you chew, and when you open them Yelena is standing right in front of you. 

A hand flies to your chest as you exclaim “Shit, Lena, you were not there two seconds ago.”

“Hi,” she says, slightly apologetic. “Kate is being twitchy, can I sit?” 

You pat the seat next to you and she moves to sit. 

“Thank you, I just really need to clean these, and she kept moving. Maria is more patient.” 

Yelena casually unrolls the kit again, laying a few inches into your lap. On instinct you gently reach to hold the corner as she adjusts. 

Her eyes flash up to you, a sharp glint to them, before softening again and raising the corner of her mouth into a small smile as her brain seems to realize it’s just you. 

You wonder what that initial thought was that caused the hint of anger- was it just her instincts as well? Not having her own things, not having autonomy in the Red Room? Maybe it was her first line of defense back then. You’d known each other for two years now, and been on missions together for over one of those, but she was notoriously slow to warm to others..

It seemed like every time you interacted with Yelena, you saw a different piece of her rise to the surface. Whether it was her throwing her head back while laughing at a sitcom, or the look of longing in her features when she sees or hears something about Natasha. The tenderness she showed you no more than an hour ago, helping you come down for a panic attack. The unbridled rage she shows when protecting her team. 

What did Bucky mean when he said he didn’t think she’s a softy? He sees the way she plays with Fanny, or how she radiates light when the team gets invited to Barton’s ranch and she gets to hang out with the children. 

You’re broken out of your thoughts by Yelena’s smooth accent. 

“Are you feeling okay? After getting a little bit clean, киса?” She’s still working on her blades, three of the five clean now.

“Yeah, yeah, I think so, thank you.” You’re fiddling with the buckle on the edge of the kit, “You know… Actually never mind.” 

“What? What is it?” She shifts her body, turning a little towards you, concern laced in her features.

“The nickname, киса, what does it mean? Why do you call me that?” You ask softly, unsure of how the question will go over. 

“Ah, it means ‘kitty,’ it is a term of endearment in Russian.” She nods as she responds, gesturing slightly with her hands, still holding a knife. 

“You like cats,” she explains, “you are kind, you are sensitive, and you are reserved.”

You can’t help but smile at her reasonings, total softy, you think to yourself. 

You aren’t quite sure how to best continue the conversation, because you’re sure there’s a blush crossing your cheeks if the light pink glow coming from your hands is any indication. You attempt to hide them under your thighs, balancing the kit on your knee. 

“I see, I see, makes sense,” You finally reply, looking out the window instead of meeting the blonde’s gaze. 

You still see Yelena in your periphery, though, and she is taking in the way your magic is escaping you. 

“Are you sure you are okay?” 

“Yes, I- I just, that is very sweet, Belova.” You nod, finally turning back to look at her, a soft smile on your lips. 

She returns a smirk of her own, her focus shifting back to her weapons. 

The ambiance of the rest of the team chatting and laughing echoes in the background.

The remainder of the flight back to the compound brings a comfortable, warm, silence between the two of you, your shoulders gently brushing against each other from time to time as the jet moves. 

[celestialseph]

It's Just 5th Grade Science

Dani is put in place as Bucky's main point of contact for repairs for his arm. Steve finally confesses his love. Congratulations, you are soulmates!

Bucky/Steve/OC (she/her)

Chapter 2 is here! I am also posting on AO3 as i go :)

WARNING!! this is 18+ Minors DNI

Chapter 1: Social Studies can be found here

Chapter 2: Phys Ed

All too soon, we arrive at the compound. Bucky shuts off the motorcycle and the silence of the parking garage is all-encompassing. I don't want to let go. We sit silently for a moment, his hand on my thigh, tracing small circles with his thumb. Giving him one last squeeze, I reluctantly ease myself off the bike, which leads to my legs promptly giving way, and I land unceremoniously on my ass with a huff.

I glare up at him with mock annoyance. "I'm down here on my ass and you're laughing at me!” I stick my lip out in an overdramatic pout.

Bucky can't help but laugh as he swings himself off the bike and kneels beside me. Still chuckling, he offers a hand to help me up. "You alright?" he asks, his amusement clear.

"Yeah, I'm laughing at you." he replies, his voice filled with affection as he helps me up and pulls me to him, resting his hand on the small of my back. It's clear that my legs are still unsteady underneath me.

"I didn't think my legs would be this tired. You might have to carry me in over your shoulder." I joke, shifting my weight from hip to hip to get my bearings.

"You want me to carry you in, huh?"

“Like you would be caught with my fat ass slung over your shoulder!” I scoff. 

Bucky has a shit-eating grin on his face. "Oh honey, don't undersell your ass."

His grip tightens around my waist, and I am casually thrown over his shoulder. "James Buchannan Barnes!" I squeal as his arm casually secures my thighs in place and his laugh fills the parking garage. He adjusts his grip and I gently bounce on his broad shoulder as he starts towards the elevators, my own laughter joining his. "You know, I rather like the view from up here!" I quip, reaching down to playfully swat his ass. 

"Yeah? Like what you see?"

"Oh yeah, I love a full moon!” I’m giggling like a teenager at my own joke.

The smack on my own ass takes me by surprise, as does the flush of heat that follows. I squeeze my thighs together, trying to staunch my reaction so he won’t notice, but his grip tightens.

Another slap echoes through the garage as his hand lands harder this time.

"Dani, you're trembling."

“Am I?”

"Yeah, doll, you are.”

As we reach the elevator, he slides me down until my feet hit the floor. The current running through my body pulses where his hands rest on my waist. The flush is clear on my cheeks and he inhales deeply, catching the smell of my arousal in the small, enclosed space as he eases me back against the wall. A whimper catches in my throat.

"Do you like it when I'm a little rough?"

My hands grasp his leather jacket, needing to ground myself. ‘Rough’ had never been something I had entertained. All I can manage is his name, barely audible.

"You want it, don't you? For me to take what I want?"

Once again, my whole body flushes, heat pooling in my belly. My eyes are pleading, desperate. "Please..."

"Please what? Tell me what you need."

"Damn it, Bucky, kiss me already." I beg.

I’m shoved against the wall of the elevator and Bucky is plundering my mouth. The grip he takes on my hair is unyielding, his other hand is firmly on my hip, holding me in place.

When his leg slides between my thighs, I moan fully into his mouth. He presses harder, letting me ride his thigh as his hand slides around to grab my ass and grind my hips further into him.

There is a chime as the voice of Jarvis comes over a speaker. "I am sorry to intrude, but I must let the hold on this elevator go. I have held it for several minutes and Mr. Stark is beginning to think there is an error."

We break apart like errant teenagers, suddenly remembering that we are in an elevator. At the compound. And Jarvis is everywhere.

I refuse to look at the speaker as I apologize. "Sorry Jarvis! Can we have just one more moment?"

Bucky can’t help but laugh. "Yeah, Jarvis. Just give us a sec, alright?"

Turning to Bucky, my eyes are wide. "I feel like I should apologize? I've... I've never had that kind of reaction before. So, um. Sorry?”

"You've got nothing to apologize for. I'm the one who should apologize for taking things so far in a goddamn elevator."

His gentle exasperation makes me smile. "Always the gentleman, Sergeant Barnes." I say as I reach up to neaten his hair and adjust the front of his jacket.

"Yeah, well, I did promise I would be. But you're developing a habit of making me want to throw that all away."

"Hmm. Maybe I like it." I push up on my tiptoes and give him a quick kiss on the cheek. "Jarvis, I think we are ready." My eyes don't leave his as the elevator shifts and the doors open.

"Well, well, well! Looks like I've interrupted something!" Sam's loud voice startles both of us, not expecting anyone to be waiting for the elevator.

Bucky’s face locks down. "Yeah, you definitely interrupted something. What do you want, Wilson?"

"Hey Sergeant Grumpy Gills, I wasn't the one hoggin' the elevator." Sam jokes. "Jarvis let us know you had arrived in the garage, but we hadn't seen you."

I giggle. “Sergeant Grumpy Gills, I gotta write that one down.” This earns me a scathing look from Bucky before he shifts his glare back to Sam.

"Yeah, well, we got... distracted. But we're here now. No thanks to you."

"Yeah, yeah, get a move on you two. Fury is already in a mood." Sam turns and heads back towards the briefing room.

I gently take Bucky's hand and give him a gentle tug. "Let's go."

The team is waiting, standing around, or sitting on the pristine white couches. Sam has joined Steve and Clint by the coffee machine. Natasha is curled into a corner of a couch while Tony talks at her animatedly. Thor is here, which is surprising, and he laughs loudly at whatever Bruce is saying.

They all seem to stop at once and look at the pair of us, standing a few steps inside the door. Bucky shifts forward as if to protect me from scrutiny.

"If you two are done being such a great door, I'd like to get this briefing started." Director Fury drawls out from behind us. Fury levels his gaze at me. "As much as it tickles me that you're here Danielle, I need you next door with the tech team for this brief." His good eye shifts to Bucky, a hint of challenge in his gaze. I give Bucky's hand a gentle squeeze and pull back.

"Yes, sir." I reply, edging out the door.

I join my own team, taking a seat next to Scott who hands me a copy of the intel. I bounce my leg, full of nerves. Not because of the mission, but because this will be the first after everything has changed. I half listen to Coulson as he runs through the information and my mind drifts to Bucky, missing his warmth and trying to tamp down the anxiety now forming in my gut.

Both teams break.

They leave tomorrow.

I leave the room slowly, anxiously looking for Bucky as everyone converges in the hallway. Damn these men all being so tall. I jump as Natasha slides up next to me and slings an arm around my shoulder.

"Well?" she asks with a knowing raise of an eyebrow.

"Well..." I reply, tucking my chin.

She grins and her eyes go to a point behind my head. I turn to look and there's Bucky, frozen in the door of the main briefing room. The tension drains out of me the moment our eyes lock.

Natasha pulls me into a quick hug, breaking my eye contact with Bucky. "You tell me if he fucks this up, okay?" she not so quietly whispers in my ear.

I give her a chuckle, "Yes, mother".

I turn back, and suddenly, it's just the two of us in the hallway. We are once again left in deafening silence. I rush to him, not prepared for how anxious the briefing would make me. Holding him feels vital right now and being back in his arms is grounding, soothing. He buries his face in my hair, taking a long, steadying breath.

"Bucky," I murmur against his chest, "I'm… scared."

"I know," he replies, voice gruff with emotion. "But I'll be fine. I'm a super soldier, remember?"

I sigh. Knowing he is capable is great, but these feelings between us are new and heady. "I hate that I have to watch you run head-first into danger." I mumble, unwilling to pull back even an inch.

Bucky runs a hand down my back. “I've been running head-first into danger my whole life." his low voice rumbles through me. "I know what I'm doing. You don’t need to worry.”

Another sigh, this time a little exasperated, slips out of me. I pull back just enough to look into his eyes. "How could I not worry, James?” His eyes are searching mine. I know the concern is etched on my features and his expression grows more serious. 

He takes a deep breath before gathering my hands in his. “I need you to listen to me, okay?"

His shift in demeanor takes me a little off guard. His face is suddenly earnest, and a little anxious.

"I need you to... promise me something." His hands tighten around my own. "Promise me that if something happens on this mission, or any mission, you'll take care of yourself. You'll stay safe." His tone and hold on my hands feel almost desperate.

I can't catch my breath for a moment. The insinuation that he wouldn't come back causes an unexpected spark of anger in my chest. "James, if you don't come back to me, I will drag you out of hell myself and beat your ass. You are mine now and I don't take that lightly."

Bucky’s eyes are wide, the fierce protectiveness in my voice is unmistakable. He pulls me tighter against him. "You're goddamn right I'm yours" he growls, voice low and possessive. "And I plan on coming back to you."

I cling to him desperately for one more moment before taking a steadying breath, once again forcing myself to be the one to pull us apart. "I need to go prep. Can’t take care of any of you otherwise.”

"Yeah, you're right. "His voice is still gruff, but resigned. "I just... don't want to leave you."

"Go find Steve. Or better yet, Sam, he's great at keeping you occupied." I hesitate, my eyes skating off to the side before adding, "And if you want, you can come to my quarters when I'm done with prep?" I tuck my chin and chew on my lip, feeling like a child asking for a sleepover. "You don't have to if you don't want to!" I add quickly, nerves getting the best of me.

"I'd love nothing more," he breathes, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “And in the meantime, I will let Sam make me feel like throwing him off the roof.”

I let out the breath I hadn't known I'd been holding on a chuckle. "Okay. I'll let you know when I'm done. Give Sam some hell for me."

"Oh, don't worry, sweetheart. I'll keep him on his toes." He winks and saunters off, a hint of playfulness in his step.

I take a moment in the now-empty hallway to catch my breath, a silly grin plastered on my face. He was going to come stay with me tonight. With lighter steps, I head to the lab to prep the remote kit, triple-checking its contents for any necessary repairs on this run. I force myself to slow down, even though all I want to do is sprint back to my room and wait for Bucky to arrive.

After a few hours, I was confident it would be ready for anything. Pulling out my phone, I hesitate. Should I shower before he comes over? No, I couldn't wait. I fire off a text that I was heading back to my room and that he could come over anytime.

On the other side of the compound, Bucky is on his 28th eye roll at Sam when my message reaches him.

I can't help but pace around my quarters. It's only been 10 minutes since he said he was headed my way, and my inner monologue is running away from me. What if he doesn't want to come over? Or what if he does come over but doesn't want to stay? I am so deep in my frantic thoughts that the knock on the door makes me jump.

"Dani?" he calls through the door. "It's me."

My hand is on the handle as I make one more desperate attempt at composure, but the second our eyes meet, I rush him for a hug. "I was so nervous you would decide not to come over." I mumble into his chest.

“Why in the world would you think I wouldn't come over? I was counting the seconds ‘till I could see you again."

I pull back to give him a trembling smile. "Oh, I let my mind get away from me. I was going to shower, but I just didn't want to wait." I pull him into my living area and shut the door. Now that he's here, the anxiety has fled, leaving me feeling tired and droopy.

"You look worn out." His thumb is gently stroking my cheek. "Why don’t we just head to bed? We both need to rest."

"I do desperately need a shower. I hate getting into clean sheets after being in the lab without one." A blush raises as a thought comes to me. "Maybe..." I hesitate. "Maybe you would join me?" The blush deepens and I become very interested in the floor, unable to meet his eyes.

He seems surprised. "You... You sure you want me to join you?"

I nod, still not able to meet his eyes. 

"Yeah, I'll shower with you. But no funny business, okay? I think we both need to cool it." He says, hand rubbing softly down my spine. "But just a warning... I might not be able to keep my eyes off of you."

Oh.

He has never seen me naked.

I've never seen him naked.

Fuck.

As he shuts the door to the bathroom behind us, I am suddenly hyper aware of every single inch of my body. My hands are clutching the bottom of my sweater as he shucks his shirt and pulls his belt off in one fluid movement. 

Fuuck.

Bucky's hands still on the button of his pants before he realizes I’m frozen to the spot. Eyes wide. Cheeks a very deep shade of red. With a furrowed brow, he stops. “Are you hyperventilating right now?” His hand comes to rest on my neck, checking my pulse. “Woah there, take a deep breath for me.” 

I take a huge gulp of air as instructed. 

“Now,” he starts, “what’s wrong?”

“I’ve never... You’ve not… Fuck...” I’m stammering like an idiot.

“Weveneverseeneachothernaked!” comes out of my mouth in a rush.

Bucky lets out a loud bark of laughter. “That’s what has you all worked up right now? We are just going to shower. No funny business, remember?” His hands smooth down my arms, trying to ease some of the nervous energy. “How about I get in first, okay? You can join me whenever you are ready. Zero pressure.” My nod is hesitant. He kisses my nose and steps back to finish getting undressed.

I am making slow work of taking my socks off as Bucky lets himself into the shower. Finally, I brave a look at him through the fogged glass. Gathering what little courage exists in me, I strip down and slide into the steam.

Bucky offers his hand as I step in. “Is it okay if I hold you?”

I tense. But he promised no ‘funny business’. “Yes, I'd like that.” I murmur. He pulls me into his arms with such tenderness that my heart stutters. I melt as his hands start rubbing the tension from my shoulders.

"You are so beautiful.” His voice is full of adoration.

I reach up, threading my arms around his neck, and give him a gentle kiss. Soft. It’s a thank you.

His breath catches as he kisses me back, his lips moving in a slow, languid dance with mine.

"Bucky?” I murmur his name as a question against his lips

"Yes?" he replies, his voice rumbling against mine, his fingers tracing patterns along my skin.

"Would you let me wash your hair?" I ask sheepishly.

He smiles, his expression tender. "Of course, I'd love that." he says, voice thick with affection.

I guide him to sit on the built-in shower seat, placing myself between his knees and grabbing my favorite shampoo, rose and honey. I work the bubbles into his hair, gently massaging his scalp and working through the long strands.

Bucky can't help but moan as his eyes close, letting himself fully relax under my touch. "Never thought having my hair washed could feel this good." He murmurs. His head ends up resting against my belly as I start in on the conditioner, carefully working the product through.

"Thank you for being gentle with me tonight." I say, petting his wet hair back from his face. I lean down so our eyes are level, needing him to understand how special this simple shower has been to me. "Not everyone would have taken a shower just to be together. Trust me, I've tried before and it ended up with me doing things I didn't want to do." My eyes squeeze shut for a moment, trying to blot out that particular memory so this one can take its place. I open my eyes again to meet his, and press a kiss to his forehead.

His grip on my hips tightens ever so slightly. “Remind me to have Jarvis track down your ex.” He mutters before bringing me closer. "You don't have to thank me. I would do anything to make you happy, anything to make you feel safe. I never want to disappoint you."

I pull him to his feet, gazing up at him. How can he be real? How could I be so lucky?

“James, I… I love you.”

Bucky’s eyes widen before a beautiful smile breaks across his face. “Oh my girl, I love you too.” 

He couldn't possibly hold me any closer. Love has filled every moment of the past few weeks, and now that I've voiced it, the world feels brighter.

He turns off the water and grabs a towel, wrapping me in it before pulling me close again. "Thank you for all of this." My voice is quiet as I kiss his cheek. "Now c'mon, let's get to bed.”

I slip on my favorite old T-shirt. It's far too big (but that's why I love it), and work through my nightly routine while Bucky sits on the bed. I can feel his gaze track me as I move about the room, his eyes seeming to drink in every detail. There's a self conscious blush in my cheeks as he beckons me over, urging me to come stand between his thighs again. I fit perfectly, as if made for him. Bucky’s hands slide up my bare thighs, pulling me closer.

"You're so goddamn precious." He murmurs, voice thick with adoration. "My good girl."

The praise takes me by surprise. My tired body flickers with heat for a moment, and I can see the sly smile on his face as he takes note of the shift.

Bucky’s hands wander along my hips, his touch firmer. "You like that, don't you?" he asks. "You like when I call you my good girl?"

I chew on my lip, looking askance. I nod sheepishly.

He lifts his hand, thumb coming up to coax my lip out from between my teeth. "Don't be embarrassed," he murmurs, hands firm as he raises me to straddle him. “Just know when I do finally claim you, I'll make sure you know just how good you are.”

"Bucky..." My voice is a hoarse whisper, eyes closing as he trails kisses up my neck, his hands now kneading my back. I can't seem to get my eyes open again. Between the warmth of his body and feel of his hands, the exhaustion slams into me like a train and I fall into his shoulder. As he tucks me more securely against his chest, I catch a whisper.

"Sleep, doll, I've got you."

***

I wake up wrapped in blankets, not remembering even getting into bed. As I blink the sleep from my eyes, the clock glares at me. 12:53 am. I am suddenly very awake as I sit up, realizing I'm alone. There is no Bucky in my bed. Or even my room. Did he leave when I fell asleep?

I get up, fighting to keep my tears at bay. As I leave my room and shuffle towards the kitchen, I stop. Bucky is laying back on the couch, book in hand, the lamp on low. I let out a small sob, so relieved that he is still here, and he jumps, the book falling from his hands as he rushes to me.

"Woah there, what's wrong?!" His voice is thick with concern as he cups my face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away tears. "Why're you crying? What happened?"

I take a choking breath. "I… I thought you left. That you didn’t want to st… stay."

The heartbreak in Bucky's eyes is clear. "Shh, baby, no, no, no." he whispers, his voice choked with emotion. "I would never leave you. Never.”

I clutch at him as he wraps me in his arms. "I'm s… sorry. I'm such a m…mess." 

"No, no, don't apologize," he murmurs. "You're not a mess. This is still so new, and it's scary, but that's okay. I am right here. I've got you."

As I gain my composure, I pull back and finally see his face. "Bucky, are you okay?" The concern in my voice is very apparent, and he shakes his head.

“I'm fine," he mutters, "Just… couldn't sleep, that's all."

"James," I say seriously, "please. Let me be here for you too.” I reach up to turn his face back to me. "Did you have another nightmare?" My voice is soft, trying to be as gentle as I can.

Bucky sighs, “No, but before a mission… I usually do. And I didn't want to wake you, so I decided to just stay awake.” He shrugs. 

"My Солнце." I whisper, refusing to let him downplay this. “You can’t just stay awake all night. You need rest before you fly out.”

His brows furrow in surprise. "Did… did you just…I didn't know you knew any Russian?" he stutters.

I tuck my chin, "I've been spending some time with Nat trying to learn some… is that okay?" 

“Yeah, that's okay," he replies. There's pride in his voice. "More than okay.” He peppers kisses across my face. Words of endearment flowing from him in a mix of Russian and English.

Taking his hands in mine, I ask "Will you come back to bed with me? Let me hold you?" There is reticence in his face for a moment before he gives in, intertwining his fingers with mine.

I crawl up into the bed, arranging the pillows and pulling back the blankets, making a little nest. Finally sitting back, I reach for his hand, "C'mere my Солнце."

Bucky lets me pull him down onto the bed, allowing me to arrange him the way I want. He nuzzles his face into the crook of my neck, body fully relaxing against me.

"Feels good...my good girl."

I card my fingers through his hair, letting out a content sigh. His breathing slows, finally asleep, tucked safely in my arms. The heat and weight of his body draped over mine is like a lullaby.

Tonight, there are no nightmares.

***

I wake slowly, warm and totally at ease. I smile down at Bucky's face, still soft in sleep, before placing a kiss on his nose. He stirs and a contented hum escapes his throat. Blue eyes peek out under heavy lashes as a lazy smile spreads across his face.

"Mornin' baby." he mumbles, voice gravelly with sleep. "Sleep well?"

"Mhmm. You're like my personal weighted blanket." I gently brush his hair back off his face before asking, "How did you sleep?" There is just a touch of concern in my voice.

Bucky shifts to pull me tighter against him. "Best sleep I've had in years." he murmurs, nuzzling his face into my neck. "Wakin' up next to you ain't too bad, either." He catches the blush that spreads across my cheeks before I bury my face in his hair, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Aww, don't hide your face like that." he teases, lifting my chin with two fingers. “I like seeing you blush." He chuckles, clearly enjoying the way the color deepens at his words. His hand gently cups my face so he can trace his thumb over my warm cheeks. “You're so damn adorable." He murmurs. "Look at you, all flustered.”

I close my eyes at his touch, basking in his sweet words.

He takes advantage of my closed eyes to brush his lips against my cheeks and down my jaw, lightly nipping the flush there.

Without any input from my brain, my hips roll against his thigh. He nips again, soothing the spot with his tongue and my hips move on their own again. I know he can feel how fast my heart is beating now, and the next nip draws a gasp from me.

"Do you like it when I put my mouth on you?” He asks before he bites again, just a little bit harder.

This time, my hips know what they want. 

A moan catches in his throat. “Be a good girl and tell me what you need.” 

"Bucky...".

He smirks against my skin as he feels my body tremble. “I asked you a question, Dani.���

"Please, James…”

He pulls me to straddle him, using his grip on my hips to grind himself against me.

“I need to hear you say it. Tell me what you need.”

Looking down at him, seeing how dark his eyes have become, it's like he wants to devour me.

"James… I need you.” 

His breath catches in his throat. “Say it again.”

I lean down to press soft kisses to his cheeks. “My Солнце," I murmur, “make me yours.”

Bucky takes my face in his hands. The kiss is desperate and rough. He coaxes my lips apart with his tongue, nipping and sucking on my lower lip as he sits up and presses me back into the bed, as his metal hand slips under my shirt, his touch rough and possessive.

I arch my back, pressing myself into his hands as they drag across my body, small needy noises slipping out.

"You're so goddamn beautiful." He breathes. "I don’t think I will ever get enough of you.” His mouth is on my chest. “Can’t believe this is all for me."

"Then take your damn pants off." I demand. I can’t get my hands close enough to tug on his sweats.

Bucky chuckles. “There's that little brat again. So impatient." He murmurs, voice rough with amusement. "Don't worry. I'll give you what you want. But first, I need to taste you."

He pulls away, his mouth moving down my body, leaving a trail of kisses. One hand whispers over my cunt and I am dripping for him already. Another deep groan rolls out of him. "God, I could tease you like this for hours."

My body starts to tremble when I finally feel his breath on my thighs.

"Are you sensitive here too?" he asks, his voice soft but rough as he gently kisses the insides of my thighs. The stubble on his cheeks tickles the sensitive skin there, causing me to buck against him before his hands pin my desperate hips to the bed. 

“Bucky, please!” I beg. This is torture.

“Use your words, baby.”

 "Please..." I beg again, "Make me yours."

A satisfied growl rumbles through him. "Every inch of you is gonna bear my mark. You'll never forget who you belong to." With that, he lowers his mouth to my heat, his tongue licking a slow stripe up through my folds.

My back arches at the sensation of his mouth finally on my cunt. I see stars, and the noise that escapes me is something I've never heard before. I am writhing on the bed, still held in place by his powerful arms as he draws moans and sighs from my needy body. The tension is building so quickly that I can hardly breathe. His mouth is merciless and greedy, tongue delving deep to taste every part of me.

“Is your pretty little pussy going to come for me?” He whispers, slipping a thick finger deep into my cunt as his mouth continues its torture.

His name is almost a sob on my lips as the sensations become overwhelming.

"That's it, baby. Come for me."

My trembling hands fist in his hair I dive headfirst into the pleasure, totally at his mercy as waves of sensation break over me.

It takes a moment to come back down to earth and realize Bucky has sat up, my thighs resting on his as he slowly strokes himself. He is breathing heavily, eyes dark and intense as he gazes down at me. "Just look at you. All mine."

"All yours." I groan, unabashedly staring at his cock and licking my lips before returning to meet his gaze.

"You keep looking at me like that, I'm gonna lose my damn mind."

My lips curl into a slight smirk "Well?”.

"You know, you shouldn't challenge me, doll." His grip on my hip tightening as he looms over me. "Because if you do, I'm gonna turn that challenge into a lesson you won't forget."

 A shudder runs through my body, remembering our moment in the elevator. "Is that a promise?"

I can see his control slipping. "You want a promise?” He leans over me, breath hot on my ear.  “I'm going to fuck you again and again until you forget how to breathe."

His mouth is on mine, swallowing my moan as he slowly, deliberately, eases his cock into me.

The guttural groan that rolls from him when he is fully seated in me is filthy.

Bucky lifts my hips, somehow getting deeper and his control evaporates. I can do is scream his name. His thrusts are powerful, driving into me with desperate force. "Please!" I beg, delirious with pleasure.

He pulls me up to sit on his thighs so he can fuck into me. “Look at me. I want to see your eyes when you come.” He instructs, and it takes everything in me to focus on him as his thrusts become frantic. “Such a good girl. So beautiful when you're on my cock. Do you want to come for me, baby?”

“Yes, I’ve been so good, James.”

“Then come for me, Dani.”

It's a command, one that I eagerly follow as his name tumbles from my lips like a hymn.

Bucky follows me over the edge, his body shuddering with release as he buries himself deep. His breaths are ragged as he tries to regain control. "You're gonna ruin me, you know that?" His voice is muffled against my shoulder. "No one's ever made me feel like this."

I smile against his neck, gently running my fingers over his back, taking extra care around his scars. I've seen them, worked around them, but now my touch is almost reverent, needing him to feel my love for every inch of him. I start to hum, You Are My Sunshine floating out of me gently.

I break from humming to quietly sing the final line.

"You'll never know, dear, how much I love you. Please don't take my sunshine away."

I place a soft kiss on his collarbone. "We should shower, my sunshine." I murmur.

"You're right." He mutters, voice hoarse. "Just give me a minute, okay? I need to get my bearings.” He pulls back, and the sensation of suddenly being empty takes my breath away. I just can't help the pout that pulls at my lips.

"Oh no, that's not fair.” Bucky’s hands come to his hips as he appraises me. “Just look at you, pouting already. You're killin’ me."

I sit up, reaching for him again. "Just one more kiss? Please?"

"God, I’m in trouble. You don't know what that does to me." He mutters, shaking his head as he puts a knee on the bed. "I can't deny you anything when you look at me like that." He leans in and captures my lips in a kiss, his hand gently cupping my cheek.

I take his proffered hand to stand, but my legs shake and I fall back against the bed. "Guess you'll have to carry me again." I joke, but Bucky doesn’t hesitate. He scoops me up in his arms, my own coming around his neck. I can't help but laugh we head to the bathroom. “I think I could get used to this!” 

I’m just starting my intricate-shower-hair-care-routine when Bucky snakes his arms around my waist. “Hey there, mister! Can’t a girl apply some product?” I swat his hands as he pulls me back against his chest.

“Not when she's still looking so sweet and fuckable.” He murmurs in my ear. My body responds quickly, a shiver coursing through me despite the heat of the water. “You drive me crazy. All I gotta do is look at you and I'm ready all over again." He captures my wrists and pins my arms above my head before hooking my leg and placing it on the seat in the shower. I gasp as my chest makes contact with the cold tile. He thrusts a finger into my cunt, groaning. “God, you are already so wet for me again.”

“James, don’t tease me.” My voice is low as he slips another finger in.

"Nobody else gets to touch you like this, nobody else gets to have you."

It's all I can do to gasp out "Yes, sir." as he finger fucks me. 

"You're gonna come for me again, doll." he growls. "And you're gonna say my name when you do. I want to hear you say it." His fingers curl, the pleasure overwhelming as I scream his name.

He releases my wrists and I push back against him so I can turn and drop to my knees, catching him in my hands. “Dani, you don’t need to…” I cut him off with a firm stroke. 

“It’s my turn to decide, James. Don’t act like you don’t want me like this. On my knees.”

His hands coast over the top of my head as I look up at him. His breathing is ragged, face obscured by the steam of the shower.

“I want you to use me. I’ve never asked for anyone to do that before, but I am begging you, on my knees, to use me.”

There is the barest moment of hesitation before his hand is fisted in my hair, and he is fucking into my mouth. I groan at the feeling of him taking full control. Of just being used.

How have I made it this far in life without this?

My nails are digging into his thighs as he takes my mouth. The hand not in my hair comes down to hold my jaw, keeping me in place as he fucks into my throat. I’m fingering myself to another orgasm as he comes on my tongue.

He pulls me to my feet, his touch now delicate and slow, settling me down gently on the seat in the shower. “You are magnificent.” He murmurs, running his thumb across my now swollen lips.

My eyes are closed, basking in the afterglow of being claimed so fully when I feel his hands in my hair, washing it with care. I start to hum again, my voice barely audible over the sound of the shower.

He doesn’t ask, just carries me to bed. Once I am nestled back into the pillows, he takes one foot and gently kneads the arch. He takes his time, massaging my calf slowly and thoroughly. A sigh of contentment escapes me as he works his way up my leg, touch steady and firm. By the time he reaches my other calf, my body has caved into the call of sleep. He continues the massage even after I’ve drifted off, his touch slow, making sure I am fully cared for.

***

The smell of coffee brewing nudges me awake from deep in the blankets. Soft music drifts through the open bedroom door and I smile, stretching like a pampered cat before rolling out of bed. I pause in the doorway to soak it in, Bucky's sweats slung low on his hips, hands busy making pancakes in the small kitchen. I cross the room and slide my arms around his waist as he cooks. "G'mornin" I coo.

"Mornin' doll." His voice gravelly from sleep. "Sleep well?"

"Mhmm" I reply, gently swaying us to the jazz playing through the kitchen. His body relaxes into mine and I bask in the moment, the sweetness of it, before breaking away to pour us coffee.

Bucky slides a plate of pancakes towards a stool and takes a seat, patting his lap. “C’mere pretty girl.” He pulls me up, arm snug on my waist as I nestle into his shoulder. "I think I like mornings with you. You're so sweet when you're sleepy." He murmurs against my hair.

"That's my secret," I say, stealing Bruce's famous words. "I'm always sleepy." He tucks into the pancakes, offering me the bites with more syrup. It feels domestic and easy. I settle back against his shoulder, placing a kiss against his collarbone.

He sets his fork down, pulling me closer. "You're making it hard to concentrate on eating." he teases, pinching my side to elicit my easy laugh.

There is a knock on the door. We look at each other, the domestic moment shattered. 

Remembering we are at the compound.

That he will have to leave today.

The knock comes again, and a voice calls my name from the other side. I sigh and slide off Bucky's lap, pulling my shirt down to hide the fact that I'm not wearing any underwear. I find Steve waiting in the hall. He blinks several times, taking in my sleep mussed appearance as a blush rises in his cheeks, eyes darting to look to the side. "Hey, Dani. Sorry to interrupt your morning. Is Bucky here?"

Bucky is still sitting at the kitchen counter, "I'm here Steve, what do you need?"

Steve looks over my head, finding Bucky at the counter. "Hey Buck, I am sorry for… interrupting." His eyes dart back to me for just a moment. "We've got marching orders. Wheels up in 3 hours."

His eyes come back to rest on me. I nod, and I'm sure he can sense my spike in anxiety. "Ok. We will be ready, Steve. Thanks." He rests his hand on my shoulder for a moment before nodding to Bucky and heading off.

"It's going to be okay." Bucky's voice is soft as he comes to meet me where I've frozen by the door, gathering me in his arms. I pull back to gaze up at him and find a tenuous smile on his face.

"Your only option is to come back to me."

Bucky’s blue eyes are full of emotion. "I'll always come back to you." He leans down and captures my lips in a tender kiss. "We should get ready." he sighs, voice reluctant.

I sigh as well. "Yes. We should." I reply, sadness tinging my tone.

"I'll come find you before we need to load up." 

"Promise?"

He takes hold of my chin, gently tilting my head up to look at him. "I promise.”

***

Scott is already in the lab when I arrive. "Hey!" I say, forcing myself to be upbeat. "You ready for this one?” I ask him.

"Always ready." He replies.

I’m doing final checks on the travel setup when the doors open and Natasha strolls in, already dressed in her usual black. "Hey, Scott, Tony wants you to look over something. He's on the launch pad." Scott nods and heads out, leaving myself and Nat in the lab alone. She levels her knowing eyes at me.

"So?”

I blush furiously. She can read me like an open book.

"And?” she prompts.

“I love him, Nat." The smile finally breaks across her face. "It's like we were made for each other. And I'm so scared now."

She comes closer to rest her hands on my shoulders. "Honey, he's the best at what he does. You don't need to be scared for him." Her voice is firm.

“I know, I know." I can’t help the sullen tone.

She pats my shoulder gently before stepping away and heading towards the door. "I'll see you on the launch pad." she calls over her shoulder.

It's just me and my rushing thoughts now. I shake my head to clear it and focus back on the equipment before loading it onto a cart for someone to take up. With nothing left to do, I head out the door, checking my phone. Nothing from Bucky. Sighing, I slowly make my way towards the elevator, scrolling through emails to keep my mind occupied. I hear the doors open and blindly walk straight into Bucky as he steps out.

"Whoa!" He catches my arms to keep me from falling, his voice a mixture of surprise and relief. "You scared me. You okay?" He asks as I rub my nose.

“It's like smacking into a brick wall, damn." I joke, trying to calm my heart rate. He's dressed in his stealth suit, dark pants fitted to his bulk, and his black leather jacket leaves his metal arm uncovered.

Bucky chuckles, "Hey, I'll take that as a compliment." A smirk growing as he notices the way my eyes trail over him. His grin widens as he steps closer, hands sliding to my hips. “Ma’am, you’re lookin’ at me like a piece of meat. I’m an upstanding gentleman here.”

His firm hands cause heat to pool low in my belly, arousal sparking and heating my skin. “Maybe I’m in the market for a choice cut.”

His grin turns sly, sliding his hand around to my back and pulling me flush against him. "Careful there," he murmurs, voice low, "I can see what you're thinking, and we don't have a lot of time."

I can feel his own arousal pressed against my stomach, and it makes me drip. I know he can smell it now as his eyes darken. "You better make it quick, then." I murmur.

Bucky leans down, lips brushing against my ear. "You're a damn tease." he purrs, guiding me back, trapping me between the heat of his body and the cold concrete. With a swift, practiced motion, he has my legs wrapped around his waist.

“Bucky, I’m still wearing my jeans.” I whine, trying to shimmy them down. He readjusts and uses his metal hand to rip the denim and my underwear out of the way before freeing himself from his tight pants. I drag him to me, my need clear in the searing kiss. He fills me with one quick thrust, swallowing my moan as he shudders.

He pulls back, eyes locking onto mine. "You're not afraid of anybody seeing us like this?"

 “I don't give a damn. Fuck me, James."

It's all I can do to hold on as his hips set a punishing pace. He shifts my leg, hooking my knee over his arm, giving him even deeper access. "That's it," he growls. "Taking it so good for me.”

My whole body is trembling in his arms, my moans bounding through the concrete halls as he pushes me over the edge. His rough strokes are making me delirious as he fucks me through my orgasm before chasing his own release. I feel his rhythm change, fast and desperate against me. The feeling of being complete washing over me as he fills me again.

"You're incredible." he murmurs, lips brushing against my skin. "How the hell did I get so damn lucky?"

I laugh. "I could ask you the same thing," I sigh against his shoulder. He pulls us back from the wall, still buried in me, gripping my ass as he walks us back towards my lab. He gently sets me on a counter and finally pulls himself from my heat. I shudder. The loss of fullness is unfair.  He steps back between my thighs, pulling me close and resting his head on my shoulder.

"Hey," I say, tugging on his chin so I can see his face. "I love you." My smile is a bit wobbly, but sincere.

He smiles back. "I love you too." His voice is full of tenderness. "More than I ever thought possible."

Our time is running out before he has to leave, and I don’t want to relinquish my hold on him.

He sighs, expression falling as the gravity of the situation settles back on him. "I don't want to leave you."

"I know, my Солнце." I say, brushing another kiss across his lips.

Another sigh runs through him, shoulders slumping in defeat. Straightening, he looks me over and chuckles. "I guess I might have gotten a little carried away, huh?" he says, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth as he takes in my ripped jeans.

"Well, I do usually get what I want." I remark as he helps me off the counter. "And if that means a pair of jeans gets ruined, I guess you’ll just have to get me a new pair." I shrug and head to my desk, bending over to rummage for the leggings tucked inside. “I always keep a change of clothes down here. One time some intern started an electrical fire and…”

The smack on my ass takes me totally by surprise

He quickly delivers another, soothing the area with his palm as a startled gasp catches in my throat. His hand comes down again, harder this time. "You do usually get what you want, but I think this time I’m going to take what I want." His voice is low and dangerous as he bends me over the desk, another slap echoing around the room. “And I want that pretty little pussy peeking out of your jeans.”

I hear his zipper and without warning, he is fully sheathed in me again. This time, it's not about my pleasure. It's about showing me he's in control. I revel in his power, one hand twining in my hair so he can use it for extra leverage. I am at his mercy and that is exactly where I want to be.

Bucky’s mouth is close to my ear. "You're so desperate for me, aren't you?"

I can only moan, completely submitting to him.

"You just can’t let go of that little attitude." he mutters against my neck. "Maybe next time you’ll remember what happens when you act like a brat.”

His teeth on my neck make me cry out. "Please," I pant.

Bucky’s fist in my hair yanks, exposing more of my neck. "You think you deserve to come?"

"I'll be good." I promise. "I'll do whatever you want just please, please let me come again." I beg.

"You'll do whatever I want?" he asks, his voice a low rumble. "You'll be my good little girl?"

"Yes!” I cry out. "So good. Only for you."

He pulls my head back even further, teeth grazing my skin. "You're mine," he growls. "I own you."

My back is arched against him now, my hips pinned against the desk, and he punishes me. “Yours. Your good girl. Only yours." I moan. I am so desperate to come.

His pace changes, hips slamming into me with new fervor. I can feel that he's close, and I desperately hope we can come together. I scream his name as I feel his release flood me, finally being allowed to fall over the edge myself as we chase the high together.

We are both gasping for breath, and I am in awe of the power he has over me. I have never wanted to belong to someone so completely and fully. He gets a fresh towel, wiping me clean once again with reverence.

Bucky helps me into the clean leggings from my desk, leaning into my touch as my hand finds his cheek. I’m in a haze, the act of submitting so fully leaving me in a fog of bliss. His hand finds my hip. "You okay, doll?"

I nod, my mind slowly returning. Reality settling back in. "We need to get going." I whisper, tucking a loose strand of hair behind his ear.

"I know," He replies, his voice soft. "But I don't want to go."

"I know, baby." I say, gently petting his hair. He leans into my touch like a cat, his eyes closing for a moment before taking a deep breath and standing up. I run my hands over his jacket, smoothing it before taking his hand. The elevator ride is silent as I lean into his side.

The doors open and the cacophony of voices floods in. Everyone is already here. Steve stands with Fury looking over a flight plan while others assist with loading cargo and other prep. Bucky gives me one more small smile before he locks in, demeanor shifting and striding over to Natasha. Sam catches my eye and waves me over.

"Will you do me a favor and do a quick check of Redwing?" He asks, handing over the small drone. I pull out my phone, syncing to it and starting a quick diagnostic scan. "You two seem happy." Sam remarks as he straightens and crosses his arms. "Are you happy?” he asks, tone serious.

Sam has become one of my closest friends, and right now he is scrutinizing me, looking for anything amiss. I don't hesitate in my reply. "I am, Sam. I've never felt so happy in my life." My smile is bright and genuine, despite the stress of the moment. His eyes narrow, assessing me again as I hand Redwing back to pack away. He then pulls me into a hug.

“Good. I’d have to drop him off the roof otherwise!” His laugh reverberates through me and I can’t help but join him.

"Go on!" I shoo Sam, tucking my phone back into my pocket, trying to find Bucky again on the busy roof. I jump when a hand lands on my shoulder. It's Steve, suited up and serious. "Everything good?" I ask "Shield magnets solid?” He nods, eyes darting away for a moment before returning to my face.

"How are you?” he asks, the depth of the question not lost on me.

"I am so wonderful." I respond, tears misting my eyes. Steve is Bucky's best friend. His oldest friend. And he's one of the few people I trust implicitly. "I never knew I could be so happy, Stevie. Is this okay with you?” My question is hesitant.

Steve’s hand comes once again to rest on my shoulder, and he gives a soft squeeze. His smile doesn’t quite fill his eyes, but I don’t notice. "If it were anyone else, I don't think I could let him fall so hard, so fast, without worrying." 

His words bring the tears out fully. Knowing that he trusts me enough to be with Bucky is huge. "Thank you, Stevie," I sniffle. "Make sure he comes home to me. Please." This is not a request. He nods, giving my shoulder one last squeeze before dropping his hand.

As Steve walks away, I finally catch Bucky’s eye, and he wraps up his conversation, quickly striding towards me with concern, seeing my teary eyes.

Bucky takes my face in his hands as he studies my teary expression. "Hey, what's wrong?"

I take a quick look towards Steve. "Stevie gave me his blessing to be with you." My tone is light, but Bucky understands the weight of my statement.

A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth as my words sink in. He wraps me in a hug. "How could he not approve?" he murmurs, voice full of emotion.

"Hey! Lovebirds!" Tony calls, "Time to get moving!” I roll my eyes and take one more moment In Bucky's arms, pouring all of my love into him.

Before we break apart, Bucky presses his forehead against mine, eyes closed as he takes a deep, ragged breath and brushing a final kiss against my lips.

"Be safe, my Солнце." I whisper, stepping back to let him go.

"I'll be back before you know it." He assures. There's a promise in his words, one that he fully intends to keep.

He steals a glance before he steps in the jet, his expression a mixture of determination and reluctance. 

Once the quinjet is out of sight, everyone drifts back inside. Scott had offered to take the first shift on call, so I linger on the roof, my heart heavy. I make my way to the edge, staring out over the manicured gardens surrounding the compound.

“Danielle!”

I’m pulled from my thoughts by Bruce as he makes his way across the roof.

"Hey, sorry to bother you." His voice is quiet. "I just wanted to check on you. I've got coffee going in the lounge, if you want to join me?” I nod and we walk back to the elevator. “Sam told me you and Bucky have grown close lately. When you didn’t come back down to the lab, I was worried.”

A laugh puffs out of me. “Sam never can keep his mouth shut.”

Bruce pours us coffee and gestures to a pair of chairs posted up in front of the large windows. I tuck myself into a chair, the weight of it all catching up to me. "How do you do it?" I ask quietly. "How do you let Tony go and not fall apart?”

"I do fall apart. I'm just very practiced at containing it." His statement is matter of fact. "The first time I stayed behind, I nearly lost control." He stares deep into his coffee. "You just have to trust in the team. Trust that they have each other's backs. Trust in their abilities." He meets my eyes, a small smile breaking out. "Bucky may be a hardass, but his skills are unrivaled. Keep your faith in him." 

I nod, returning his smile. My Bucky. My sunshine. I have to keep it together for him.

We chat a while longer, discussing some upcoming projects, but soon the coffee has gone cold, and Bruce finally stands. "Well, you know where to find me if you need me. In the meantime, try to get some rest."

"Thank you, Bruce. I needed this."

He pats my shoulder gently. "Anytime, kiddo." 

[celestialseph]

It's Just 5th Grade Science

Dani is put in place as Bucky's main point of contact for repairs for his arm. Steve finally confesses his love. Congratulations, you are soulmates!

Bucky/Steve/OC (she/her)

I have never written anything creative before so here it goes fellow freaks!

WARNING!! this will be 18+

Chapter 1: Social Studies

“One of these days I'll clean my purse. Dani why the fuck do you even have 2 pairs of socks in here?” I mumble aggressively to myself on the porch.

“Okay, how the HELL did they get INSIDE the socks?!” I finally let myself into my little row house, thankful Darcy next door did not see me talking to myself again. I still get shit for talking to a squirrel. Bucky is already here, draped across my couch.

“Sorry I’m late, I got hung up in traffic on the bridge. Let me change, we can still make our dinner reservations.”

“No worries, take your time.” he mumbled.

Detouring to the couch, the exhaustion is clear on his face as I lower myself beside him.

“Hey, are you feeling ok?” I take his hand, giving it a tug so he will sit up and look at me. There are heavy dark circles under his eyes and he seems vacant. “Bucky, did you sleep at all last night?” Even his smile is tired as he sits up, shaking his head.

“It’s just nightmares. Sometimes they keep me up,” His tired gaze softens, thumb tenderly rubbing the back of my hand. “Nothing you need to worry about, doll.”

After searching his face, I go to stand. We aren't going anywhere, not when he is so clearly not okay. “I’m going to cancel our reservation. We are staying in.” He hooks his arm around me, pulling me back down to the couch before I can even take a step.

“No need, I’m fine. I’m still trying to do this right y’know? And you’ve wanted to try this restaurant. We're going.” He meets my eyes and tries to school his face to better hide his exhaustion.

“We are canceling. The restaurant will still be there, I would rather you tell me what is causing this.” I reach out to brush a thumb along the tension he is holding in his jaw. “Or if you don’t want to talk about it, we can just relax, maybe put on a movie.”

Bucky is taking in my face, realizing this is a battle he will not win and an exasperated sigh tumbles out of him. He pulls me gently into his lap. “You’re too sweet to me.“ he hums softly, resting his chin on top of my head and exhaling deeply.

“Do you want to talk about it?” I ask. There is no pressure behind the question. He sits for a moment, taking a few slow breaths before he speaks.

“I sometimes dream about my past. The things I did…“ His voice is quiet and unsteady. “When I wake up I feel so guilty and sick.“ His body starts to tense, breaths becoming shallow.

My hands come up to gently hold his face in my hands, "Take a deep breath for me Bucky. I'm right here with you. You’re safe.” He follows my command, taking in a deep breath and exhaling shakily, his gaze holding mine. There is a desperation in his eyes that breaks my heart.

“One more for me, you can do it” I encourage softly.

Another deep breath, this time stronger, and his body relaxes a fraction. “There we are. I know this is all new- us- but I am here to take care of you. I want to take care of you."

His jaw starts to tense again at my words. “Some days I feel like I’m still dangerous. That I could put you in danger. That I'm still not safe.”

I sit back so I can get a full view of his face. "James. I will not let you devalue yourself. I want to be here because I know who you are here and now. Do you think Steve or Sam would have let me accept the position from Tony if they thought you were dangerous?"

Bucky looks genuinely shocked and his metal arm tightens around my waist, his gaze shifting into something softer. “I don’t know what to say.“ he whispers, softly, almost shy.

"How about 'yes, you are right, as usual Dani!'" I say with a gentle laugh.

He huffs in response, shaking his head. “You’re so annoying.“ he mumbles, even though a soft smile slowly forms on his lips.

Reaching up I run a hand softly through his hair. "Like I said, we are new together, but I know your heart. And I trust you. Okay?" He takes a moment, his gaze wandering over my face as he nods.

“Okay.” he whispers, placing a kiss on my forehead.

"Good. Now, I think you deserve some cookies. Peanut butter or chocolate chip?" I give him a gentle kiss on the cheek before getting up from the couch.

“Chocolate chip.” He responds after a few seconds, his voice still somewhat quiet.

"Correct answer!" I give him a dramatic wink trying to lift his mood "Now pull your hair back because I need those strong arms in here”. Bucky’s eyes roll, but I notice the small smirk on his face replacing the tension from his nightmares.

“Would you mind being a doll for me and getting the flour down from above the fridge?" I smile to myself using his pet name for me. He groans dramatically at the request but does as he’s told.

“I’m coming, I’m coming. Miss Bossy.“ he says, but I can hear the smile in his voice now.

My attempts to lighten his mood seem to be working so far. Humming to myself I continue to gather ingredients and bowls. He picks a spot out of the way and leans against the counter, watching me, gaze soft.

“Need me to do anything?”

"Yes, I’ll need you to cream the butter and sugar until it's fluffy. Let me grab this bigger bowl up here." I stand on tiptoes to get the bowl from a shelf, reaching with both hands when my feet start to slide out from under me. Bucky’s arms are pulling me against his chest before my body even registers that I am falling.

“Careful, doll.“ he huffs in my ear.

I am breathless from the small spike of adrenaline and the feel of his arms wrapped securely around me as they hold me close to his chest.

“You could have hurt yourself.“ he softly scolds, metal hand gently running over my side. I can't help but giggle nervously, hyper aware of his strength and the sudden intensity in his face. His grip around me tightens a little, his gaze still unreadable. He turns me around gently so our chests are pressed together.

“Don’t laugh. I’m serious about keeping you safe.” he scolds again, his tone somewhat playful but darker, hinting the slightest trace of something else. He lightly pushes me back, trapping me between his broad chest and the counter.

"Yes sir." I say with a touch of sarcasm. Still breathless.

Bucky’s face slowly shifts into a wolfish grin.

“Don’t get cheeky with me.“ he murmurs, his metal hand gently grasping my chin and tilting it up, forcing me to look at him. Our faces are only a few inches away from each other, his other hand still has a tight grip on my hip.

"Me? Cheeky? Never.” the attempt for continued levity is overcome by the slight tremor in my voice.

His grin widens as he softly squeezes my chin. “No? I don’t believe you one bit” His tone is dark, teasing. Predatory. “I think you’re a little brat.”

My gaze dips from his eyes to his mouth, just for a second "I think I might take offence to that," I pause for a moment before adding, "Sir." My voice is wavering.

I have never been so brazen in my life.

He can’t help but let out a soft chuckle at my little show of bravado, and his grip on my chin tightens. “Is that so? I think you need to watch your mouth.”

I take a shaky breath, my eyes once again darting down to his lips so close to mine as I gather my bravery. "And who is going to make me?”

A dark laugh moves through him.

“I will.”

Without warning I am being lifted up on the counter and his hands are pushing my knees apart to make more room for his bulk before returning to my hips. He moves so fast that my mind simply scatters and all I can do is keep breathing. Up until this moment he had strictly adhered to his promise to be a gentleman but his face is absolutely wicked now.

“What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?“ he purrs.

Another nervous giggle escapes me as my eyes dart to his mouth again "I'd say something bigger has mine."

He runs his tongue over his bottom lip and it's somehow the most indecent thing I've ever seen. “Oh yeah?“ he responds, hands gripping me tighter. “Is that a challenge?”

No turning back now."I guess you will just have to find out."

His metal hand slips up my back, arching my body into him as he runs his nose up my neck. His mouth finds my pulse and I feel his smile at the frantic beating of my heart. The hand on my hip shifts and his thumb dips under my waistband, rubbing soft circles.

“I'll make it my mission then...”

Bucky’s hands come back to my hips, brushing gently up my sides. “You're shaking, doll.” he murmurs, the hint of desire and hunger in his quiet voice. His hands are on my heated skin, now more insistent as he touches me.

An embarrassing squeak pops out of me and my eyes shoot open. Bucky’s hands stop at the sudden noise and he stops as concern takes precedence. He takes a moment, assessing, and I can see the realization come over him. “Bucky…” I warn. He can't help but let out a dark laugh. “Bucky don't you dare.”

"Dani, are you...ticklish?"

“No, I am not!” I say with more confidence than I actually feel, trying to shimmy my shirt back down but I dont get the chance. Bucky catches my wrists in one hand and pins them to the cabinet above me before trailing a single finger down my side.

"Don’t lie to me. I can see right through you.” His voice is teasing as he lowers his mouth to my side, starting to place soft kisses there.

"Bucky!! This isn't fair!!” I am starting to lose the teeny bit of composure left in me as his stubble drags across my skin. "Anything else but being tickled! Please!! I'm begging!!” The laughter is starting to overwhelm me and I can tell Bucky loves this.

"Oh...it’s so very fair..."

"Oh no, please!!” I've lost it, dissolving into shrieking giggles as he keeps me pinned in place "Bucky please!! I'll do anything!!” I am barely getting the words out, wrapping my legs around his waist to try and get some kind of control.

The torture finally stops and he asks, "You'll do anything?"

I am still gasping for breath from the laughter, almost delirious as he starts to kiss my neck. "Yes Bucky! Please! I'll do anything!”

His demeanor shifts in an instant. The playful teasing is gone as his hand is firmly back on my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes. "That's what I want to hear. Will you be good for me?”.

A needy whimper escapes me. "Bucky..."

He frowns and the grip on my chin tightens “I asked you a question, Danielle. I expect them to be answered.”

“Yes” I pant “I’ll be good”

A dark smile returns to his face and his mouth is back on my neck. His teeth are sharp on my skin and the feeling sends shivers coursing through me. I grab his hair and pull him back so he is just a breath away from my face, I am panting, desperate.

"Kiss me."

Bucky’s mouth is on mine and the world around us dissolves as his hand tangles in my hair and tugs, moving my head to deepen the kiss. A moan comes from deep in my chest and we are wrapped around each other, totally lost in sensation when both of our phones start to alarm.

We startle, and there is a beat as we look at each other. The oily feeling of the summons destroys the moment. "Well fuck." I whisper, knowing that if we are both receiving the call, its can’t be good.

Bucky lets out a soft sigh, his hand gently brushing over my cheek, almost reluctantly. "I guess duty calls." he murmurs softly. I can't help but lean into his touch, and I take the opportunity to kiss his palm, closing my eyes to keep the frustration at bay.

"We'll continue this later.” he murmurs with a soft smirk, a promise in his gaze.

He helps me down from the counter so we can silence our phones. As a tech, I only receive a summons prior to a mission if the bulk of the team are to be gone for more than 72 hours and will need remote assistance. I helped Tony design the remote repair kit and he insists that I do the prep work for these extended bouts.

I can feel Bucky watching me as I read the details. I take a deep breath, putting on a brave face, struggling to tamp down the panic that starts to flood my body and head to my room. "Let me throw some things together."

As I am grabbing my go bag, I call out "We can ride together if you want?” hopeful for a little extra time together. I shake my head. “Ah nevermind, you’ll want to have your bike locked up at the compound" I hope my voice doesn't betray my sadness at the loss of the little extra time a drive would have given us. "We can just go separately." I add as I return to the living room.

Bucky studies my face for a moment. "We’ll take my bike.” His voice is firm and decisive.

I stop, startled. That bike is his baby. I put on a very confident face about my weight, but my insecurities run deep. The thought of being on his motorcycle for the world to see, or even causing some kind of damage to his bike makes my palms clammy.

"Are you sure? I’m not exactly…dainty. I don't want to risk damaging your bike.”

“You’re riding with me. I never want you to think your weight is a problem because it never will be. End of discussion.”

The sudden appearance of tears in my eyes takes me by surprise. I quickly turn to slip into my shoes, trying to hide my face but his hand is on my shoulder, light pressure guiding me to turn back before gently cupping my chin in his metal hand, directing me to meet his face.

"What is it? Did I upset you?" his voice is hushed, filled with concern. My lip is trembling and he brushes his thumb over it gently.

"You said earlier that you don't deserve me. But how could I ever deserve you?” I shake my head, trying to clear my mind, and squeeze my eyes shut to keep the tears in. "My ex, he was a real dick about my weight. It's hard to let go of, that feeling of not being worth certain things because I'm ‘fluffy’."

Bucky’s expression turns tender, swiping away the tears from my cheeks, the soft pad of his thumb tracing over my skin. "You don’t need to deserve me. There is nothing about you that needs to be ‘worthy’ enough. You’re everything to me."

There is a sudden mischievous sparkle in his eyes and he is on me in an instant, lifting me effortlessly and securing my legs around his waist. The pressure of his body on mine pins me to the wall.

“Didn't you say earlier you wouldnt let me devalue myself? Do you think I would allow you to think for one second that you are any less than perfection?” His voice is soft but unyielding as his eyes roam my face. “Can't you see how effortlessly you fit in my arms?”

I am both overwhelmed with emotion and flooded with heat as I can feel his arousal pressed against me. His nostrils flare and his eyes darken. "I can smell you, doll...I can feel that you want me just as much as I want you.”

Our phones start to blare again, neither of us had checked in that we were on our way. Despite the screaming alarms I haul him in for a kiss, desperate and feverish, begging for just a few more moments. He lets out a soft growl, his hands on my thighs holding me in a bruising grip, before rolling his hips against mine.

We finally break apart, panting as he rests his forehead against mine. "We should go." I whisper.

The sigh that falls from him is heavy, and the sadness in my voice is almost palpable, an echo of his own reluctance to let this moment end. Bucky leans back slightly so he can look me in the eyes, his expression torn between duty and desire.

"You’re right." His voice is hoarse, barely above a whisper.

I kiss his forehead and he lets me down gently, his body still flush to mine, keeping me pinned to the wall. I give a small, half-hearted smirk. "I usually am."

Bucky returns the smirk, his body still pressed close to mine. "Still a little brat I see." he teases, his voice tinged with affection.

"Hey!" I exclaim, playfully smacking his chest.

Bucky catches my hand in his, lifting it to brush a kiss against my knuckles.

"We better go before someone sends a search party" I say gently. He nods, stepping back and snagging his keys from the coffee table.

Gathering my things I face him again. "Alright, let's boogie".

Bucky lets out a stifled laugh as he opens the door for me, “Boogie? Really?”

His hand briefly lingers at the small of my back, a small gesture but one that brings a smile to my face. He locks the door behind us, and makes his way to the bike parked on the street.

I freeze on the sidewalk. In the heat of the moment, I had forgotten about the motorcycle.

"Is something wrong?" he asks, concern creeping into his voice as he steps back on the sidewalk, his hand gently grasping my arm.

"Uh… I'm just now realizing I've never ridden a motorcycle." I gaze up at him, eyes wide.

"You've never ridden a motorcycle before?" he asks, his voice teasing. Bucky looks me over, my hands clutching my bag like a lifeline as I glance between him and the bike.

“It's just like riding a horse, only faster.”

“Oh good.” I mumble to myself. “I’ve never ridden a damn horse either.” My legs are a little wobbly as I come closer "Um… So, uh, do you get on first or?"

Bucky lets out a soft chuckle. "Yeah, doll, I get on first." he says, straddling it with a practiced ease.

I stand there, looking everywhere but at his face, flustered because the sight of his thighs around the bike are doing something to me. A grin breaks across Bucky’s face, clearly enjoying my reaction.

“Be a good girl and come here” he beckons, extending his hand and gently pulling me toward him. His grip is steady and strong despite the slight tremor in my fingers, and pats the seat behind him, "Just throw your leg over, easy as pie.”

"Easy as pie" I mutter.

"It's alright, I’ve got you." he says softly, hand still holding onto mine as he pats the seat once again.

I nod and take a deep breath, swinging my leg up and over. I’m barely tall enough to hoist myself up, and feel like I am going to slide off the other side. But Bucky’s hand is on my thigh, grip firm, holding me in place as I clutch at him.

"I got you, just relax."

Taking another steadying breath I catch the smell of his leather jacket, and the feeling of his metal hand grasping my thigh give me a boost of courage. "Okay. I can do this.” I wrap myself around him. "I trust you. Let's go." He starts up the bike, the power of it running through us as he pulls out into the road.

I have seen him ride before, he's fast, stealthy, finding the paths through traffic. But I can tell he is being gentle, going with traffic and taking the curves far gentler than I knew he could. Stopped at a light, I tell him "You can go faster. I can handle it."

"You sure, doll?" he asks, over the engine. There's a hint of hesitation in his tone.

"I'm sure. I trust you, James."

His hand tightens on my thigh. There is a radiant grin on his face when he turns to me and he winks. “Hang on tight spider monkey.”

The light changes and we are flying. Bucky's weaves through traffic with no hesitation. I finally get the nerve to pull my face away from his back to look around me and the exhilaration of it takes hold as the world dissolves into a blur of color and light. I let out a loud, freeing laugh. How could I have been so scared when I knew Bucky would keep me safe?

He feels my body relax against him as you get used to the speed, the wind whipping past, the world a blur of color and light. Bucky can't help but smile at the sound of my laugh, the way it's filled with joy, it’s a sound he wants to hear every day.

"See, doll?" he calls out over the roar of the engine, "ain't so bad, is it?"

I catch his words on the wind and hug him tighter. "Let's do this all the time!”

[celestialseph]

taking whats mine - joel miller x reader

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ synopsis : you head to the bar to blow off some steam after a petty argument with your boyfriend, joel, but you end up flirting with the last person you should've been flirting with.

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ warnings/tags : MINORS DNI, unprotected p in v sex, creampie, begging, crying, spanking, jealous sex, angry sex, rough fucking, pet names, praise, degradation, use of sir, use of daddy (once), age gap (reader is 22, joel is 48), fingering, dom!joel, jealous!joel, no outbreak, no use of y/n, alcohol consumption, pussy slapping, public sex

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ contains : older!joel miller x younger!reader, borderline infidelity, public sex, alcohol consumption, large consensual age gap

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ wc : 3.7k

the bar hums with a steady pulse of low conversation and the clinking of glass while neon lights buzz faintly above the bar counter, casting a colourful glow over people nestled into the worn leather booths and high padded stools. a jukebox in the corner crackles with the opening beat of song 2 by blur, blending with the cacophony of voices and laughter while a group of people begin to cheer after the home team scores, TV’s playing the football game. the air smells faintly of spilt beer, fried food, stale smoke, and sweat, causing your nose to wrinkle slightly as you sink down into the plush barstool. 

normally, you’d be pulled tight on your boyfriends lap, his large, muscular arms pinning you against him as he ordered drinks for the both of you, fingers digging into your plush thighs as you bat your eyelashes at him in gratitude, intoxicated by his scent.

this time, however, you are alone. 

joel didn’t typically feed into your petty attitudes, usually preferring to fuck them out of you and calm you down by pulling orgasm after orgasm out of you. but after an especially long week at work where there seemed to be a never-ending barrage of issues with the place him and his brothers team were building and far too many 14 hour days, he snapped. you had been begging him to take you out, promising him it would ease some of his tension and stress but he repeatedly declined, telling you he had a headache and would rather stay home and watch football. 

you tried to understand, really you did. but it was safe to say that after a week of barely seeing him, not being able to wrap your legs around his waist and tug on the salt and pepper curls at the base of his neck, that you didn’t really care how he was feeling, just wanting to spend time with him outside of the house and do anything other than watch sports. of course, it was petty, selfish, and immature, but being 22 will do that to you, you supposed. 

you had left the house with a huff and a slam of the front door after joel had told you to “quit bein’ a fuckin’ brat and pissin’  me off. go out if you want to that badly.” with a mean lilt to his voice that made your stomach simmer with an angry burn. that was the meanest he’d ever been to you outside of your sex life. the two of you had been together for no more than two and a half months, still keeping it private and between you and him. your parents hadn’t a clue, and neither did joel’s brother. you hadn’t met him yet, the only thing about him you knew was that his name is tommy and him and joel still fight like teenage boys, a smile tugging at your lips at the thought.

you white-knuckled the steering wheel the entire drive to the bar, tugging your bottom lip between your teeth as his words kept repeating in your head. 

so, that’s how you found yourself nursing a lone star, your black mini skirt hugging your hips and ass while your corset top squishes your tits into your torso, accentuating your cleavage deliciously. you make conversation with the bartender as she cleans glasses, mixes drinks, and wipes down the counter, looking around at the patrons trying to find someone worth flirting with. 

under any other circumstances, you would never even consider batting your eyelashes and giggling for any other man but joel, but you simply knew him too well. you knew the way you huffed and slammed the door, leaving in an anger, had left his cock angry and straining against his jeans as his mind reeled, fighting against the urge to follow you to the bar and fuck you right in his truck, setting you straight. regardless, you knew you were getting fucked tonight, but it would be much more fun if you could bring out the possessive side of joel that made him press your thighs to your shoulders while his cock abused your pussy until you couldn’t even think. the thought sent a pang of warmth straight down to your core and you squeeze your thighs together in an attempt for some semblance of relief. 

as if on cue, an older man, maybe in his late 30’s to early 40’s, enters the bar and a mischievous smile makes its way onto your face. you watch with your bottom lip between your teeth as he approaches the bar, settling down in the only available stool; the one right beside you. he glances over at you and you shoot him a smile, pushing your hair off of your shoulder as you take a sip from your glass, leaning forward to lean on your palm.

“now what’s a pretty young thing like you doin’ at a bar like this?” he drawls, green eyes twinkling as he studies your face before dragging his eyes up and down your body. 

bingo.

you hum, trying to decide what to say while tapping your nail against your lip as you support your head on the palm of your hand. “boyfriends bein’ an asshole so i came to blow off some steam,” you settled on telling him a half truth. 

joel was being an asshole, but because you deserved it, and the only steam you were looking to blow off was with joel. 

the man beside you chuckled, pushing a few stray pieces of dirty blonde hair out of his face, the rest tied back. “naughty girl,” he chided, eyes dragging up your body again and settling on your tits before making eye contact again.

something tugged at you, making your stomach churn anxiously. he looks oddly familiar, you realize, but you shake the feeling, comforting yourself with the fact that you and joel had come here many times, and you’d probably just seen this guy around before. 

“somethin’ like that,” you reply with a giggle, pushing yourself to sit back up after finishing the rest of your beer, turning and ordering another one. you reach for your wallet to pay before you see a card being slid across the counter.

“let me take care of it, darlin’.” he winks, a smile spreading across his bearded face as you thank him with a light touch to his bicep. 

the two of you talk for several minutes, his flirting making you giggle as your hair falls in front of your face before you take a drink of the beer he had paid for, wiping away the foam that had appeared on your top lip with your pointer finger before popping it in your mouth, making eye contact with the man beside you. 

he smirks and tucks your hair behind your ear, out of your face and your stomach twists with guilt. his eyes flit down to your lips, and his thumb meets your bottom lip, swiping across it lightly. 

“what i’d give to see you suck somethin’ else off them pretty fingers of yours,” 

okay, now you feel really guilty. 

you had expected joel to come after you sooner, have him walk in and see you simply talking to someone, but this was bordering on actual cheating. you wriggle nervously in your seat eliciting a chuckle from the man beside you, but before you could truly process your guilt, an angry voice came from behind you. 

“get the fuck away from her, tommy.”

your heart drops to your stomach as the realization hits you. no wonder he was so god damn familiar, he was joels fucking brother. the guilt was eating you alive now as you whip around to face joel, his eyes dark and jaw tensed. 

“joel i-“ you start, but he glares at you with a look you’ve never seen before, pointing a finger in your direction.

“dont.” he warns, and you feel a flood of warmth in your core at his words, thighs rubbing together in your seat. joel looks down at your movement and scoffs, jaw tightening so hard you thought he might break his teeth. jesus fucking christ.

“joel, what the fuck? this is the girl you’ve been seein’?” tommys mouth hangs open, looking between the two of you before standing and putting his hands up in defense as joel’s eyes meet his, glaring. 

“we can talk about it later,” he grunts, looking at his brother before gripping your wrist tightly, yanking you off of the stool. “you, however,” he drawls, voice lowering as he pulls you closer to him, “are comin’ with me right the fuck now.” 

you nod silently, mumbling out a quiet “it was nice meeting you,” to tommy, which only serves to make joel grip your wrist harder as he drags you out of the bar. you can feel yourself getting wetter at the thought of what’s in store for you, following joel in a horny trance as he pulls you past his truck.

“wha- where are we-“ you start before joel tugs you around a corner and into a dark alleyway before pressing your back up against the brick wall, thigh quickly finding purchase between your legs as his torso presses against yours. you whine at the pressure on your clothed cunt, trying to grind down onto his thigh only to be stopped by a bruising grip on your hips. 

“you want me that fuckin’ bad? huh?” joel mocks you, his breath hot and heavy as his mouth hovers over yours, sending chills down your spine and causing more slick to collect in your panties. one hand releases your hip as it snakes up and grips your jaw as he moves your head to the left, inspecting your face before repeating the motion, turning your head to the right. a dark look washes over his face, clearly displeased at your lack of a reply.

“answer me when i speak to you.” he spits out angrily, watching as your eyes widen and a low whine escapes your throat causing his cock to twitch in his jeans.

“y-yes.” you manage to pant out, head buzzing at the sensation of his breath on your face, his burning grip on your face and hips, and the pressure burning a hole into your cunt. 

“yes what?” joel grunts, eyes dragging down your body as a string of obscenities leave his mouth, studying the way the slit of your skirt just barely covers the string of your thong wrapping around your hips and the way your tits press together in your tight top. his bruising grip leaves your face and two fingers press onto your clothed clit, making you writhe against his touch.

“yes sir,” you moan out, brain and body overwhelmed as a groan leaves his lips as he realizes just how wet you are for him, panties thoroughly soaked through, leaving a wet spot on his thigh where he had pressed against you. you whine at his reaction and his eyes flit back up to yours as he quickly flips you around, hands now bracing yourself against the wall as he presses his thick bulge against your ass. 

“think i ‘oughta remind you who you belong to,” joel hurriedly pulls your mini skirt up, letting it sit on your waist as he lets out a low whistle, eyes settling on the black g-string that sat between your asscheeks, a pretty gold heart holding the strings together at the top. 

“what? you jealous that your brother wants to fuck me just as much as you do-” a hand comes down on your right ass cheek with burning strength as you yelp out, tears threatening to fall from your eyes at the mixture of pain and pleasure. “you put these on for me? or are they for whichever guy your greedy self set your eyes on first?” his hand comes down on your ass again, ignoring your snide comment and you push your hips back into him, grinding against his bulge.

“a-ah- i swear joel! i swear i didn’t know he was your broth-“ you stammer before receiving another three smacks on your ass with no soothing rubs to follow, leaving you to stew there with an unbearable burn, sure to turn into welts come the morning.

“dont.” he reaffirms with another smack to your ass before ripping your thong from your body as you cry out.

“joel,” you whine, fingers digging into the brick wall in front of you as your forehead rests against the wet rock. “i really liked that pair…” you mumble as he scoffs at you, fingers tracing delicate lines through your wet, swollen folds. 

“p-please baby i-“ you’re interrupted by another smack to your ass and you moan as you feel more slick pour from your needing cunt, dripping down your thighs. 

“you lost any control you thought you mighta had when you decided to suck on your finger and eye fuck my brother right in fronta’ me, sweetheart.” joel growls into your ear, pressing his body right up against yours as his hair raked itself through your hair, yanking your head back by his makeshift ponytail. 

“joel please, i swear i didn’t know!” you beg, your voice coming out as a breathy whine as your hips grind desperately against him, hoping to find any sort of friction to release the tension coiling in your stomach. 

“ohh it ain’t about knowin’ baby girl,” his fingers make their way back to your soaking cunt, sliding through your folds with ease before rubbing tight circles against your clit, finally giving you what you were craving. 

“you fucked up real good.” joel continues, fingers dragging back up before plunging deep inside of your tight pussy, pumping in and out of you at a relentless pace as your back arches, slapping one of your hands over your mouth in an attempt to silence the broken moan being ripped from your throat. 

“don’t go all quiet on me now darlin’,” he teases, his free arm reaching around to pull your wrist behind your back. “want everyone to know just who you belong to.” joel finishes, his fingers curling up inside you and finding that spot that has you dripping all over his hand, another loud moan being ripped from your throat.

he continues his ministrations, his thumb beginning to rub small circles onto your clit as he adds a third finger into your cunt, your head spinning as your pussy stretches to accommodate his large digits. joels mouth meets your neck, trailing wet kisses down to the crook of your neck where he sucks down hard on your skin.

“o-oh! joel-“ you can feel the coil in your stomach getting tighter, burning hotter, his fingers repeatedly stroke your g-spot, pulling a groan from his mouth as he feels your pussy clenching and fluttering around his fingers. he knows that you’re close, the way your legs are shaking and his name is leaving your lips like a prayer, pulling you closer to the edge. 

“b-baby please, please ‘m so close… wanna come for you baby please,” you can feel it about to crash over you, threatening to make your knees buckle underneath you, stealing your vision. instead of your vision, joel steals your release, ripping his hand away from your dripping cunt as he plants another hard smack on your ass cheek.

“bad girls don’t get to come, baby.” he teases, watching as you cry out and writhe against his body. fat tears start to fall down your cheeks at your desperation and loss of release and joel tuts, his hands finally soothing the red of your ass. 

“think ya needa be fucked till you remember whose you are, ain’t that right?” he asks, his voice low and gravelly with a hint of the same desperation you’re feeling. you nod fervently before receiving a hard slap to your cunt and you cry out, a sob coming from your mouth.

“y-yes! that’s right sir!” you correct yourself, sighing in relief as you hear the familiar jingle of his belt buckle and the zipper of his jeans, wiggling your ass for him while you try to sneakily touch yourself. 

“mm-mm.” he stops you, gripping both of your wrists behind your back as you whine in disappointment.

“dunno why ya think you’re gonna be gettin’ anything ya want after the stunt ya just pulled.” joel grunted, releasing his thick cock from its confines as he tugs his pants down with one hand. a moan escapes your throat as you feel it smack against your ass, warm and heavy. you press your hips backwards, trying to will him into fucking you. 

“ya want my cock baby?” he drawls, lazily dragging his tip through your drooling folds, making you shudder and inhale sharply.

“yes sir,” he hums contentedly and presses forward the smallest bit before stopping, making you whine.

“apologize.” he states flatly, cock unmoving as his hands release your wrists and grip your hips instead, forcing you to stay in place. 

“‘m real sorry baby, please fuck me, i promise i learned my lesson,” you begged, attempting to push your hips backwards despite your clear inability to do so.

“you’re gonna have to try harder than that if you want my cock inside ya, darlin’.” he drawls, going back to rubbing his tip through your folds, making you cry out in desperation as your head starts to spin.

“p-please ‘m so sorry daddy, it’ll never happen again i promise, please jus’ fuck me- i need- i need you joel,” you pant out, crying again as he laughs meanly behind you. “im sor-”

you’re quickly interrupted by him stuffing your cunt with his cock, filling you to the brim in one quick stroke. “atta girl,” he praises, “knew i could get ya to listen to reason.”

you cry out in pleasure as you lose your vision, an orgasm ripping through your body at his words and the feeling of him deep inside of your sopping pussy, body shaking feverishly as he groans behind you.

“thas’ right baby, come all over my cock. show me who you belong to, angel.” he blabbers as he starts to fuck into you, hips slapping against yours as a squelching noise fills the air. joels hands reach down to grab at your ass, kneading the flesh between harsh smacks on your already sore cheeks. 

“f-fuck!” you scream out as he fucks you through your orgasm, sliding his cock in and out of you at a devastating pace. you feel so fucking full, his cock reaching places deep inside you that you hadn’t even known existed until he waltzed into your life. he pulls you close to him, body pressing tightly against his as he buries his head into the crook of your neck.

“this perfect pussy ‘s all mine… so fucking tight baby, so perfect,” he groans into your ear, biting down on your shoulder as you shudder and gasp, barely able to make a noise with the way his cock pushes deep inside of you with every thrust of his hips. “say it. say ‘s all mine, sweet girl.” 

“mmmm…” you moan as he rocks your body with his thrusts. “its all yours joel, ‘m pussy ‘s yours,” you scream out as he angles his hips higher, pushing the dip in your back further with one of his hands, cock violently punching into your g-spot.

“o-ohh,” you cry out, your wet walls clenching around his fat cock, relishing in the tingling sensation that grows inside of you.

“p-please don’t stop- ah! ‘m so close,” joel loses any control he previously had as he grabs your hips and slams your cunt onto his cock, the only sounds in the alleyway being the slapping of skin, the squelching of your wet pussy, and your loud moans that you’re sure passerby’s can hear.

“yeah?” he grunts, “such a fuckin’ slut for this cock, baby. such a good girl. come on my cock again, sweet thing,” he commands, and you know your body will obey. a burst of tension rolls through your body as he pulls your hips into him desperately like his life depends on it. you scream out again, voice sore and breaking as your second earth-shattering orgasm is ripped through you. 

“fuck,” he groans, “you like makin’ me jealous baby? you like the way i slap that perfect ass of yours and fuck this tight little pussy?” 

“y-yes! y-yes baby oh my god!” you whine out, coming down from your climax only to be greeted with another one quickly approaching. 

“ya think you can come for me one more time baby?” he moans out, slapping your ass as he keeps fucking into you, your body shuddering as you feel the incredible size of him pumping into your cunt. 

you nod your head feverishly and joel seems to be too lost in the feeling of your tight, wet walls to care that you didnt use your words. 

“who else can make you cream on their cock like this, baby?” joel demands, groaning as he feels his own release quickly approaching as your walls flutter around him, your third climax rising up through your body.

“f-fuck, no one joel, no one but you,” you whine, your pussy spent and leaking your fluid as he continues fucking into you, his balls slapping against your clit bringing you even closer to finishing.

“m gonna come baby, right in this pretty little pussy of yours,” he grunts, slapping your ass as tears spill over, again. “c’mon baby give me one more, i know you can. prove to me you wanna be mine,”

joels hand reaches between your legs and he rubs delicious circles into your clit, your huge fucking mistake (being tommy) is now erased from your mind as your insides burst into flames and your hips snap backwards, meeting his thrusts as your cunt spasms around him. he lets out a long, low groan as he spills his release inside of you, fucking you through your third and final orgasm until his hips still, leaving you panting against the wall.

“such a good girl for me,” he purrs, pulling out and landing a final smack on your pussy, making your entire body convulse in overstimulation. you cry out softly and he pulls your body against him, finally holding you against his torso. you whine as you feel his spend leaking out of your pussy, and his fingers are quick to collect it and plug your dripping hole. 

his fingers leave your cunt moments later and you let out a disappointed sigh as he taps your ass lightly, pressing a kiss to your marked up neck.

“now pull that slutty skirt down and get in the fuckin’ truck.”

hoep you guys enjoyed!!! this is my first time writing smut in like 5 years so i hope its good </3 older men have been consuming my head so i wrote this up in a frenzy :P will be crossposted to ao3!

constructive criticism is welcome as always!

[celestialseph]

Our Merge is Eternal

Grotequerie: Father Charlie Mayhew x fem!reader 

Rating: Explicit (Minors DNI)

WC: 2k 

Prompt: “Can’t you see that you’re lost without me?” -Cirice by Ghost for @sweetspicybingo (Lyrical Bingo Collection)

Warnings: Oral (f receiving), religious imagery, religious guilt, handjob, public sex, spanking, whipping, pain play, penance, verbal humiliation, manipulation, bondage and sacrilege

Summary: Penance can be a beautiful, wonderful release

“Bless me, Father, for have I sinned. It has been two weeks since my last confession.”

It always started the same way: with you in the confessional booth, the screen blurring Father Mayhew’s face, and you squirming on your knees as your sins poured from your lips. It always ended the same way: blistering pain delivered with the palm of his hand, the sharp crack of leather or sturdy wood (penance), on your knees with his cock in your mouth as tears dripped down your cheeks (guidance) and curled in his lap as he wiped your tears away (forgiveness). He was careful, allowing only your mouth and hands to pleasure him, as he did the same with you, always avoiding fucking. The sin of fornication will not consume us, he had whispered against your wet thigh with his mouth coated in your juices.

“I absolve you of your sins in the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit.”

Every two weeks, like clockwork. Repeat, Repeat, Repeat. It kept you going and gave you something to look forward to, even if something was twisted about it. You welcomed the dalliance, running headfirst into it and into the arms of Father Charlie Mayhew. Those brown eyes would be your undoing, but who better than to forgive you than a man of God?

The cycle came full circle once again as you entered the confessional, arousal pooling hot and thick between your thighs and causing you to press them together tightly to dull the ache. The partition whooshed open, and you began your confession. The vulgar words fell from your tongue as you admitted your sin of self-pleasure. You felt unnerved as you were met with silence. Perhaps this had run its course.

“I want you to meet me tonight in the church,” he whispered, his face obscured by the screen.

Your heart thrummed in your chest. You were used to it happening in his office after he had finished with confession. This was something new. A break in the usual routine. It thrilled you.

“Yes, Father, what time?” you asked, hands still folded before you.

“At midnight. I’ll see you then,” Charlie responded before slamming the partition close. You move your hand through the sign of the cross before hurrying away.

A storm rolled in that evening, making the air hot and heavy, and thick raindrops poured from the gray sky. Thunder cracked through the air as lightning lit up the dark sky with bright bursts. You shivered as you hurried through the heavy doors, rain soaking through your clothes and leaving your skin feeling clammy as you made your way into the chapel. You had attended midnight mass, but beautiful candles had illuminated the room, which remained eerily dark tonight. A loud clap of thunder made you jump, and a crack of lightning brought Father Mayhew into view.

He stood at the pulpit in his black cassock, his expression stern and a rope dangling from one hand. You swallowed, approaching him slowly, unsure of what would unfold this evening as hee stepped down to meet you.

“On your knees, sinful girl,” he instructed, and you obeyed without a second thought. 

Instinctively, you lifted your wrists toward him, your palms pressed together. He guided your arms straight up into the air, sliding your shirt overhead, and your cheeks burned hot as your bare breasts were exposed. He tutted, giving one of your nipples a chastising pinch. You watched with wide eyes and bated breath as he looped the rope around your wrist, securing them with an elegant knot. His hand gripped your chin, thumb pressing to your lower lip before tracing around the outline of your mouth. Your stomach twisted as heat palpated deeper. He tugged you to your feet with a firm grip on your roped wrists before circling you.

“You come to me repeatedly, confessing the same sin,” he stated, his dark eyes boring into you.

Your mouth felt dry. “I fear I need guidance, Father. I simply find myself giving into temptation.”

He stood behind you, his hand slapping down firmly against your ass and making you stumble over your feet.

“And if thy right hand offend thee, cut it off, and cast it from thee: for it is profitable for thee that one of thy members should perish, and not that thy whole body should be cast into hell,” he hissed into your ear, his hand crashing down against your backside over and over. Pain blossomed across your skin.

“Matthew 5:30, Father,” you sniffled as he pulled your body flush against his. Your back against his chest, and you could feel it heaving with every breath he took.

“Good girl,” he purred, one warm hand pressing against your stomach, fingers dipping into the waistband of your loose-fitting black joggers, “Is that what I should do? Cut off your hands to keep them from wandering between your thighs, to keep your fingers from dipping into your greedy little cunt?”

You let out a garbled cry, unsure of how to respond as his hand plunged into your pants and underwear, his fingers immediately seeking your drenched pussy.

“I fear for your soul, child,” he whispered as his fingertips skimmed over your folds. Your lower lip trembled. His hand squeezed your right hip, a comforting touch that kept you grounded and assured you that you were safe. All you had to do was utter a simple word, and he would stop, letting you go about your evening. Either of you could end this sinful dalliance at a moment’s notice, but it just felt so good.

“Don’t let me go astray, Father. Teach me, guide me,” you moaned, caught up in the moment and willing to explore whatever he had planned.

“I will do just that. Can’t you see that you’re lost without me?” Guide me, Father, for I am but a lamb lost among the wolves.

He pulled his hand away before pushing you onto your knees and then onto your stomach before removing your shoes and tugging the clothing away from your lower half. Your face felt like it was on fire as you were exposed in such a sacred, holy area. Your eyes flickered to the statue of Mother Mary, feeling her judgment upon you. Have mercy on me, Mother.

His hands roamed over your naked skin, squeezing your prickled flesh before resting on the swell of your ass. Tears burned your eyes as his hand smacked down, over and over, searing his burning mark into your skin. You squirmed against the carpet, feeling the rug burn, irritating your stomach. You choked on your tears as they rolled hotly down your cheeks, chasing this feeling and murmuring prayers of repentance. O loving and gracious God, have mercy. Have pity upon me and take away the awful stain of my sin.

Charlie’s body pressed ontop of yours, his teeth seeking out the soft curve of your throat. You felt the swell of his erection against your abused ass. His knee slipped between your legs, pressing against your dripping cunt.

“Even now, in the sanctity of the church, your penance doesn’t deter you from your sinful nature,” he hissed into your ear before sinking his teeth into your neck. Your eyes rolled back, relishing in the sweet pop of pain that throbs through your body, rutting against his knee. 

All you could do was mewl pathetically in response as he rolled you onto your back and then cupped your face in his hands. He took in the sight of your tear-stained face and swollen lips, a small pang thrummed through his heart.

“How can I judge you so? You are no more sinful than I,” he whispered, stroking his thumbs over your tear tracks. His lips pressed against your trembling ones before undoing the ropes and pulling away from you.

You sniffled, struggling to catch your breath as you watched him stand and stretch out his arms before peeling his clothing away. The lightning bathed his skin in an eerie glow as you drank in the sight of his muscular body. It seemed wrong for a priest to be so beautiful and tempting. But God tests us in mysterious ways.

“You are so gracious in guiding me onto a righteous path. Let me help you,” you offered, extending your hand toward him.

His gaze softened, and you were lost in those warm brown eyes for a moment—endless pools of amber that you would gladly drown in. He sank to his knees, pressing his hand into yours before pulling your naked body against his.

“Would you?” he asked in earnest.

“Yes,” you smiled, stroking your fingers through his dark hair.

He kissed you again before handing you his knotted white cincture, pure as the driven snow.

“Turn around,” you instructed, smoothing your hand over his bare chest before getting used to the feel of the item in your hands. The darkness consumed you both, and you knew exactly what he was asking for.

He presented his bare back, laced with scars and a few open wounds that must have been placed earlier today. You traced your fingers over his skin, memorizing the layout of the marks and making a map of the area to lay the blows. It will be less intense than the leather cat o’nine tails, but it will suffice for now. You brought down the knotted rope against his skin, delighting in the grunt that he emitted. It doesn’t draw blood, but even in the dark light of the church, you can see the bruises blooming-mottled and purple.

You tossed the cincture aside, dropping to your knees behind him. Your lips ghosted over the marks, tongue pressing against a fresh one, throbbing against his skin and tasting the tang of blood. Charlie shivered under your touch as your hand slipped down his taut stomach to grasp his cock. You gently stroked and tugged on his rigid flesh as he arched against your hand as you danced him to the edge of a blessed release.

“Come for me, Father,” you purred into his ear, drunk on the dark power flowing through your veins. 

He spilled into your palm, sticky and pearlescent, as the sweetess moan fell from his parted lips. His head lolled back, resting against the plush pillows of your breasts. He rested against you, gathering his strength, and your head spun as he lifted you into his arms, carrying you to the altar. He lowered you onto the draped table, and you squirmed as your bare, sore ass came in contact with the hard, unforgiving surface. Charlie looked almost devilish as he dropped between your thighs, splaying them wide for him before swiping his tongue over your quivering cunt.

“Recite the Act of Contrition,” he ordered before dipping his tongue inside you.

You gasped, threading your fingers through his hair and rocking against his mouth.

“Oh My God, I am sorry for my sins. In choosing to sin and failing to do good, I have sinned against you and your church.”

Charlie’s tongue pressed to your throbbing clit, tracing the delicate bud. It felt like wanton encouragement.

“I firmly intend, with the help of your Son, to make up for my sins.”

Your fingers tightened in his hair, needy whines spilling from your mouth as pressure built in your lower belly—unbearable heat, making you think of the hellfire burning your skin.

“And to love as I should. Amen.” The words fell, garbled, and strangled from your mouth before a loud moans bled through the hallowed alcove. An intense orgasm washed over you, the bands of pleasure snapping through your belly as Charlie’s warm mouth pleasured you.

“Amen,” he whispered against your warm, wet flesh before lifting his head. His mouth coated in your release, and his dark eyes seemed to glow. Sinners, both of you, fallible and susceptible to the temptations of the flesh. Tainted by the sin of lust.

Your eyes meet his, the realization that the two of you are forever intertwined in sin. Lost in the waves of immorality together.

The hot water scalded your skin as you stood under the pounding water pouring from the showerhead. You scrubbed at your skin, washing away the lingering transgressions clinging to your tainted flesh. The cycle repeats two weeks later.