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ethanhoewke · 1 day ago

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→ Godless.

Pairing: William “Billy” Butcher x Fem!reader.

Summary: In his godless world, he yearns for something divine.

Rating: Mature.

Setting: Season 4.

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Angst, angst, unhealthy coping mechanisms, emotional agnst.

The night shift at Starlight House is supposed to be quiet. Kids are already asleep, the halls dimly lit, and the only sounds are the occasional creak of the old floorboards. You are just finishing up—shutting off lights, making sure everything is locked up—when a familiar knock echoed through the front doors. Hard. Impatient.

You already know who it is before you open it.

Billy Butcher stands there, looking every bit the man who doesn't belong in a place like this. He smells like whiskey and gunpowder, his knuckles bruised, his jaw clenched tight like he’d just come from a fight. And, as always, Terror is right beside him, wagging his tail.

You crossed your arms. “Jesus, Butcher. You could’ve just texted.”

“Ain’t got the patience for that.” His eyes flicked over you, taking in the soft Starlight House sweatshirt you wore over your tank top, the hint of warmth and comfort he probably can't stand. “Terror needed a walk. Figured I’d let ‘im see his favorite bird.”

You roll your eyes but reach down to scratch behind the dog’s ears anyway. “You mean I’m your free dog sitter.”

Butcher smirks, stepping inside without asking. “That too.”

You shake your head with a small smile.

You've known Billy for almost five months now. You met him at the Filtatron Building when you had to drop by to give Annie some paperwork for the shelter’s funding. He was standing off to the side, arms crossed, looking about five seconds away from bashing someone's head. You hadn’t thought much of him at first. Just another gruff asshole with a chip on his shoulder. But you're nothing if not curious. So, you asked Annie who the hell he was when she visited the House the other day, and she told you his miserable story.

You still get sick in the stomach when you your mind puts you in his shoes.

You sigh. “You wanna tell me why you’re really here?”

You know why he is here.

Butcher gives you a look—half amusement, half something else you couldn’t quite place. “What, a bloke can’t drop by for a friendly visit?”

You snort. “You don’t do friendly visits. Are you here to help?”

Terror woofs at you, demanding more headpats which you give him. Butcher, meanwhile, scans the quiet, dimly lit space from his spot.

“Still reckon this place is a waste of time,” he mutters.

You roll your eyes, already used to his shit. “Because helping kids is such a terrible thing?”

He does answer right away. Just shrugs, stepping closer. “World’s fucked, luv. You can’t save ‘em all.”

“Maybe not,” you shoot back. “But I can damn well try.” Like how you're trying to save Ryan. You think but you bite your tongue. You learnt to. It gets ugly when someone reminds him that his wife's son prefers Homelander over him. The boy is oblivious to his father's true nature, and Billy wasn't really kind to him the last two times he saw him. The first he told him to fuck off for killing Becca, and the second he literally was going to kill his fucking dad in front of his eyes. Which didn't settle well with the kid.

“Be that as it may…” Billy clicks his tongue, “Can we skip to the part where we fuck eachother’s brains out, luv?”

In another time, his crass words would've made you flinch. But not anymore. You’ve grown accustomed to his rough edges, even found a strange comfort in them. There’s something about the way he says it, something in his voice that makes your pulse pick up, makes your skin tingle with that mixture of irritation and desire you can never quite shake when he’s around.

So, you comply. You check on everything before you're off with him to your place.

Sex with Billy Butcher is never sweet. He fucks you with raw, desperate, almost angry need. When he manhandles you, his touch is rough and bruising and demanding like he's taking it out on you as if you're the one who killed his wife.

Why do we do this if you love her so much? You want to ask him, but you never do. Because you know that would screw it up on you.

Afterwards, Billy lays on his back, one arm tucked behind his head, staring at the ceiling like it had all the answers to the shitstorm in his head. You can still feel his heartbeat slowing beneath your palm, his skin warm from the afterglow.

For once, he isn't in a hurry to leave. He doesn't usually stay after sex. But you won't complain.

Billy keeps his gaze on the ceiling, his mind drifting away from the intimacy of the moment though he grows to love it.

God, the fucking cunt. Did He really place you in his way to discourage him from pursuing his path of vengeance any further?

He scoffs, well He’s doing a shitty job of it. Because he doesn't, by any chance, harbour any ounce of emotions for you. Aside from your sex appeal, he has nothing to do with you.

Then why do you keep wanting to see her?

A voice akin to Becca's taunts him.

Well, I'm fucking dying anyway. He tries to justify. Might as well fuckin’ enjoy the hell road.

But a knife of guilt stabs his chest. He uses you for pleasure but he knows you're more than that. He finds serenity within his soul when he's with you. For brief, fleeting moments, the searing fire in his heart that urges him for a revenge smoulders away when you beam at him and he hates you for that.

He gazes down at you while you trace lazy circles over his chest.

Such a sweet little thing, he thinks. But sweet things break easily in this world. Like it did his brother. Like it did his wife. Like it did him.

He doesn't deserve you. He isn't worthy of an angel, a goddess like you.

Then why am I here? He asks himself.

“Do you ever think the big cunt is somewhere up there?” He mutters absentmindedly.

You chuckle, looking up at him, “I don't know…”

He snickers, “You don't believe in the invisible cunt, I take it?”

You snort, “I don't really care if He or She or They exist.”

“Then why do you have a kind heart and do what you do?”

You prop yourself up on your arm, “I do it because I believe it is the right thing to do, not because some bearded old daddy in the sky says what I should do.”

He raises a brow, “Well, here's what I think, luv—”

You silence him with a finger on his lips, “I know that the world is cruel and meaningless, but it is also…” You smile, eyes holding his, “A beautiful place…”

Mine was beautiful when I had Becca. He muses, and an inner voice adds, Is beautiful when I have you.

He shakes his head.

“Might as well you enjoy the ride, Billy.” You pat his chest gently.

Before he can push the subject, a wet, sloppy sound fills the air, followed by a familiar snuffling noise.

You both turn your heads toward the bedroom door—where Terror is sitting, watching you with his big, dumb dog grin, happily licking his own balls.

Butcher groaned. “Christ, mate, bit of fuckin’ privacy?”

Terror, completely unbothered, lets out a contented huff and plops onto the floor, still going at it.

You bit your lip, trying to hold back a laugh. "You sure know how to ruin a moment, huh?"

Butcher grumbles something under his breath, shoving a pillow over his face. "Next time, we’re locking the bloody door."

Unable to withhold it, a roaring chortle bursts out of your lungs. Your lilt sound caresses Billy’s ear like a feather.

You sigh against his chest, your body warm and relaxed, but he feels anything but.

He should leave. Should throw on his clothes, mutter some half-assed excuse, and get the fuck out before this turns into something it shouldn’t.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he lets his fingers trail absentmindedly down your back, feeling the slow rise and fall of your breath.

“You always this cuddly after sex?” you murmur, voice teasing but laced with genuine curiosity.

Butcher snorts. “Yeah, ‘m a real softie.”

You hum, tracing lazy patterns over his chest. “Could’ve fooled me.”

Silence settles between you, heavy with unspoken things. He can feel you watching him, waiting for something he can’t give.

So he does what he does best. He deflects.

“Reckon Terror’s traumatized now,” he grumbles, jerking his chin toward the dog, who has finally abandoned his self-care and curled up on the floor.

You chuckle, shaking your head. “You think this is the worst thing he’s seen? He lives with you.”

He smirks, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

You notice. Of course, you do. You always fucking notice.

“Billy…” you start, voice softer now, like you’re stepping carefully around whatever mess is inside his head. “Why do you keep coming back?”

He stiffens.

Because it’s easy? Because you’re good at what you do? Because he likes the way you feel, warm and alive beneath him?

All bullshit.

The real answer sits heavy on his tongue, bitter and unspoken.

Because when he’s with you, the fire in his gut—the one that’s been burning ever since Becca died—dims just enough for him to breathe.

And that scares the fuck out of him.

You let the silence stretch between you, waiting, hoping he’ll say something. But he doesn’t.

Instead, he pulls you closer, his breath warm against your temple, his arms a little too tight, like he’s afraid you’ll slip away if he loosens his grip.

Your fingers skim lightly over his side. “You never answer the hard questions, do you?”

Butcher huffs, the sound caught somewhere between amusement and exasperation. “Don’t see the point, luv. Ain’t gonna change a damn thing.”

You pull back just enough to look at him, your chin resting on his chest. “You sure about that?”

His jaw clenches. He hates when you do this—when you peel back the layers he’s spent years building, exposing the raw, ugly things underneath. But he can’t bring himself to push you away.

Instead, he sighs, his fingers trailing up your spine, slow and deliberate. “What d’you want me to say, huh? That I like this?” His voice drops, something dangerous curling at the edges. “That I like you?”

Your breath catches. You weren’t expecting him to say it, not out loud, not like this.

And for a second, you see it—the truth he’s been trying so hard to bury.

But just as quickly as it appears, it’s gone. His expression shutters, that familiar guardedness slipping back into place.

He shakes his head, scoffing at himself. “Don’t mean a bloody thing.”

You exhale sharply, rolling onto your back beside him, staring at the ceiling. “If it doesn’t mean anything, then why are you still here?”

Because you're a good fuck and I'm much of an arsehole to take advantage of it. He wants to crudely tell you, to convince you, to convince himself that you're nothing but that.

But the words don’t come out.

Instead, Billy lies there, jaw tight, staring at the ceiling as if it holds all the answers he doesn’t have. He wants to say it��wants to be cruel, to shut this down before it turns into something he can’t control. But when he glances at you, at the way your brows pinch together, at the soft rise and fall of your breath, something in his chest pulls tight.

He swallows hard, lets out a low, bitter chuckle. “Fuck if I know.”

You huff out a laugh, but it’s humorless. “Bullshit.”

His lips twitch, almost like he wants to smirk, but the weight in his chest is too heavy. He shifts onto his side, propping himself up on an elbow, watching you. “You really wanna have this chat right now?”

Your eyes flick toward him, searching, challenging. “I just wanna know why you keep coming back.”

Billy looks at you for a long moment, like he’s trying to piece together an answer that won’t make him feel like a fucking idiot. He could lie. He should lie. But something about the way you’re looking at him makes it impossible.

Finally, he sighs, running a rough hand over his face. “You make me forget.” His voice is quieter now, like he hates admitting it. “For a little while, anyway.”

You hold his gaze. “Forget what?”

His throat bobs, his expression unreadable. And then, finally, he mutters, “Everything.”

The weight of that single word settles between you like a heavy fog. You should say something, maybe press him for more, but you don’t. Because you get it. Maybe more than he realizes.

So instead, you shift closer, resting a hand against his chest. His heart beats strong beneath your palm, steady but guarded, just like him.

“You don’t have to forget,” you say softly. “You just have to stop running.”

Billy scoffs, shaking his head. “Yeah? And what happens when I stop?”

You give him a small, sad smile. “Maybe you finally start living.”

He exhales sharply, his hand coming up to wrap around your wrist, holding you there against him. He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t need to. The way he looks at you, the way his fingers tighten just slightly—it says enough.

He’s not ready. Maybe he never will be. But for now, he stays.

By morning, the world outside is just as godless and fucked as ever. And yet, you both step back into it, knowing full well that Billy will find his way back to you—sooner rather than later.

⚜ Main Masterlist

⚜ The Boys Masterlist

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ethanhoewke · 2 days ago

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Dirty Little Secret

Pairing: DBF!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Summary: The first time Bucky met you, he knew he needed to stay far away from you. But then your dad invited him to your family's beach house. The two of you under the same roof? What could possibly go wrong?

Word Count: 900+

Warnings: degradation, DBF!Bucky (he's a warning), mutual pining, fingering, praise kink, promise of p in v, female orgasm, pet names (sugar and doll)

A/N: This was not proof read or beta read. Basically this all just randomly came to me. So, if it's not good. I apologize. Please do not report my work. Just pay attention to the warnings I give.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. No, Bucky had a plan. He just needed to stay far away from you, and everything would be okay.

Bucky knew this was wrong. Well, at least he knew your dad would think it was. He first met your dad through Sam. Both of them worked at the VA hospital, and Sam insisted that he needed to meet him. Of course, the two of them hit it off. Bucky felt thrilled he finally had another friend. But then you came along.

It was at your dad’s birthday party when Bucky first met you. The sound of your laugh broke him from the conversation he was having. He swore at that moment he’d never heard a more beautiful sound. You were in your late twenties, it didn’t even occur to him that you could possibly be his newfound best friend’s daughter. But as luck would have it, you were.

That night he swore to himself that he’d stay away from you. He would do the right thing and not think about you. But it felt like your laugh continued to play over and over in his mind. The way your eyes lit up when he’d make a joke. The scent of your floral perfume. Everything about you seemed to drive him crazy.

When your dad asked Bucky to tag along with him to your family’s beach house, he didn’t think of the possibility you would be there. But as the two of them pulled up to the house there you were. Bucky’s eyes were immediately drawn to you. There you laid in your bathing suit, the thin material leaving no room for imagination. It took everything in him not to let out a groan.

It wasn’t until his car door shut that you looked up at the two of them. He watches as your face lights up and you wave to your dad.

God, does she always look this beautiful?

Bucky shook his head, trying his best to get those thoughts out of his mind. He could do this. Leaving now would only cause your dad to become suspicious, and that was the last thing Bucky wanted or needed.

Get it together, Barnes. You can do this.

It had only been one day, and he was losing his mind. It felt like you were constantly trying to get his attention and tease him. First, it was you walking out of the bathroom in just your towel. “Oops, sorry, I forgot my change of clothes in my room.” Your voice sounded innocent, but the look in your eyes told a different story.

Now, here you were sitting across from him at the dining room table. There was no way in hell you were being innocent with the way you were eating your popsicle. No, Bucky could see the way you kept your eyes locked on him as you swirled your tongue around the icy tip. His cock stirred in his pants, and he was suddenly grateful for the fact that your dad was taking a nap.

Clearing his throat, Bucky attempts to look away. He needed to focus on something else, anything else. But then he felt your foot slowly slide up his leg. His eyes widen… Looking over at you to see if this was actually happening.

“Are you going to make me beg, James?” Your voice sounded like honey, the way your words effortlessly turned him into a puddle. “I see the way you look at me.”

No, this had to be a dream. That would be the only explanation for what was happening before him. Bucky shifts a little in his seat, his eyes now boring into yours. “Doll, this is a dangerous game you’re trying to play. Didn’t your dad ever teach you not to play with fire?”

A small smirk appears on your face, and Bucky’s eyes can’t help but dart down to your lips. “He did, but that’s the thing… I love the risk of it all. Even if it means I might get burned.”

Bucky’s hand clamped over your mouth in an attempt to muffle your moans. “Easy there, sugar. You don’t want your dear dad to find out how big of a slut you are for his best friend’s cock, do you?” He taunts as his metal thumb rubs a figure eight against your clit.

Once you made yourself clear, Bucky couldn’t resist you any longer. It was as if something inside of him snapped. He knew you needed this just as badly as he did. It had been over 70 years since he had felt this much arousal, this much need. He knew you were going to be his favorite pastime, his favorite dirty little secret.

He looks down at you with a devious smirk, he loved seeing you fall apart like this, and he hadn’t even fucked you yet. The look on your face was so blissed out. “Come on, give me one more. One more and then I’ll fuck you until you forget your name.”

You’d awoken something inside of him. He needed you and clearly needed him. Slowly, he removed his hand. Immediately, you bit down on your lip, trying your best to stifle the sound that was threatening to spill out. “Please,” you whimper out. Not knowing what it was you were begging for. Your second orgasm hits you with full force, Bucky’s fingers continuing their brutal assault as he works you through it.

“Good girl, now it’s time to give you what you truly want.”

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ethanhoewke · 2 days ago

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IT IS TIME!!! Hello, hi I hope you are doing well! Welcome to Arms Around a Memory. Get a snack, some wine, maybe tissues (you might need them) and enjoy!

Arms Around a Memory: The Prologue

Tw: some violence, blood, Rumlow being absolutely gross, torture, murder, the Winter Soldier (cause ya know, it’s the Winter Soldier)

MAY 2014

ARMS AROUND A MEMORY

The Prologue

MAY 2014

“Bucky…” I gasp as my forbidden lover comes into my room. Forbidden as in he’s training me to become a deadly assassin and it’s supposed to be strictly professional. But, we fell in love anyway, and it was so hard. He feels the closest thing to normal as I can get since I was kidnapped by this hellhole program. Here I am, training to be a Widow, expected to complete my training tomorrow by going through the Graduation Ceremony.

It was never, ever my intention to fall for my superior. I didn’t ask to be taken from my life in California. It’s not everyday your family gets attacked and your house gets blown up all because your father is an Avenger. It’s been over a year since I’ve seen my mother, and my father, as recent as this past mission.

Bucky and I had been sent to extract files from S.H. I.E.L.D. and while going to grab them for HYDRA, there was my father. The absolute shock on his face upon who I’ve become is permanently etched into my brain. See, I’m just like him. I’m incredibly defiant when it comes to rules and I was supposed to “forget” him and my mother, Pepper Potts. Who he saw that night wasn’t his daughter Clare Maria Stark. It was Agent Stark.

“Clare…” I close the door quickly but gently, then run into Bucky’s arms. I put my lips needily and hushed. There is so much going on in my mind. We’d just gotten word that because we did so incredible on the mission, my training is complete and I will need to go through the Graduation Ceremony. Just another thing to take away from me.

Of course being the Winter Soldier, Bucky was told to go. And me, a Black Widow who shouldn’t have an issue with obedience, was chosen to go. Alexander Pierce, the leader of HYDRA, saw Bucky and I training one day with Dreykov, the leader of the Red Room. He thought we were perfect.

I was absolutely terrified. They sedated me when I left and came back, a standard thing they do to Black Widows. I also had to keep my emotions in check, in case we’d run into the Avengers, of course that happened when I saw my father. I never ever thought I’d see him again. It was as if he saw a ghost.

So, with my impressive espionage skills, I’ve satisfied Dreykov and Pierce. That not only I succeeded in training, I’ll be getting the rest of my autonomy taken away completely tomorrow.

“I can’t do this, Bucky.” I cry into his shirt. His chest I’ve grown to love so much. Fuck, and being in his arms. He’s been my rock throughout this past year. Without him, I actually probably would’ve died. I’m as strong as I am because of him.

“I know, doll. I know.” He holds my chin with his metal hand and his regular arm around me. “I won’t let them change me. I won’t. They took me away from my family, my friends. Now they’re taking away another thing. My fucking freedom.” I say as Bucky feels my pain, because HYDRA did the same to him almost seventy years ago. “We just had to do so fucking well on that mission. I killed someone.”

I hyperventilate as Bucky holds me comfortingly. “They turned us both into monsters.” I rasp. He rubs my back as we sit on my bed and I look up at him. “I swear to God, I don't deserve you.” I sniffle as he holds my face in the palms of his hands. “You are not a monster. We are not monsters. You are the reason why I feel human again.”

He kisses my head and I pay attention to how his blue eyes glow. They’re so beautiful and calming. I remember how I started trusting him.

“Hey Stark.” I stop for a moment while we spar. “What?” I ask, semi hostile, keeping my guard up. “You know… I worked with your grandfather.” He throws a fist at me, I catch it smirking getting semi intrigued.

“Did you?” I ask as I throw a fist at him. “Yes… from World War Two.” I raise my hands up in fists. What he doesn’t realize was I already trust him, as I was interested in the World War Two exhibit at the Smithsonian. I didn’t know why I was so intrigued by it, but I’ve always understood that Bucky was Steve’s best friend.

“Okay, and your point?” “My point is, I see where you have your fearlessness from.” I start to move my fist into the pads laid on his hands. Bucky barely moves an inch, until he grabs my hand with his metal hand and pulls me into his body, then wrapping his arm around me.

I for once pay close attention to his eyes and how blue they are. He must’ve been a charmer before HYDRA took him. A looker for sure. I definitely would’ve picked him over Steve, and that’s not to say I don’t think Steve isn’t great, he’s amazing. There’s just something about Bucky.

“You’re a Stark, Clare. You are a resilient fighter. There’s a reason why you’re learning very quickly… that and well….” He smirks which I’ll admit is hot. “You have an amazing trainer.” I can’t help but to laugh. “I do…. So tell me why I’m about to do this.”

Within a split second, my elbow goes into his stomach. I spin out of his grip, almost like a dance. I smirk as he lands on the floor. “Genetics.” He strains and I crack up as I give him a hand. “You know, you should never trust that.” “Why?” I challenge him as he grabs my hand, pulls me down, which then turns into a roll and trip him by swinging my leg beneath him.

He’s back on his ass again. “So, I’m resilient right?” I smirk as he laughs. “And cocky.” Just like my father. He gets back up and we stand close together, feeling our chest heave up and down for breathing.

“What happened to you was incredibly fucked up, I’m so sorry that happened.” I say. “I did some reading in school.” He raises his eyebrows. “Oh did you?” “I’d go to this World War Two exhibit and there would be a photo of you with Steve Rogers.” He seems to have a vague memory of him, as he has a beam of recognition on his face.

“I’d always what happened to you… like, what did HYDRA do to you…” I say quietly looking around and run my finger along his metal arm, he doesn’t flinch. “And now I know… and like my situation, it’s not fair. We both deserve a better life.” Bucky understands what , by the sheen of his eyes. “There’s an exhibit about me?”

I laugh while nodding, looking around to make sure we’re alone. “You were Captain America’s best friend… you didn’t know my grandfather, but he was one of the major figures to fight against HYDRA.” “Right…” “So, I guess what I’m saying is, I trust you.”

Bucky flashes me a smile. “So, now what, soldier?” I ask and he stands dangerously close to me. “Self-defense.” He whispers in my ear before he sweeps me and I land on all fours, ready to fight.

I’m back to reality. Bucky and I hold each other tight in the dark room. His metal arm is warm around me and I’m curled up against his body. It’s absolutely silent. You can hear a pin drop. I rest my head on his chest, memorizing my favorite sound. My mind races thinking about what’s to happen tomorrow. What’s being taken away.

“James.” I breathe. I only say his real name if I feel I am in real danger, and boy was I about to be. “Yes, doll?” I look up at his face and immediately find that safe place in his eyes.

“I’m terrified.” I barely speak. “The mission went so incredibly well… I feel like I betrayed my family and friends. Tomorrow, I will betray my own body.” I feel the tears trickle. “I’m being torn apart to become a machine.” I can’t control the sons that escape. Bucky holds me tightly.

“Hey.” He coos as he strokes my hair. “I don’t want to be a killer.” I look into his eyes and feel my emotions overcome me even more. “Doll…” he starts as he holds my face, then I remember our first moment.

“Okay, perfect form.” Bucky says as I hold out my gun, aimed at the dummy. “Focus on the center. Stand straight and lock eyes.” I can feel him standing behind me. I squeeze the trigger and shoot the dummy right into its shoulder.

“Fuck.” I growl and whip around and face Bucky. “You made me miss!” He tsks. ”No, I didn’t, Stark. You weren’t focused.” “What do you mean I wasn’t focused? I pointed the damn thing right at his chest.” “When you think too much on it, you tend to miss.”

He comes up to me and holds the gun with my hands, his chest against my back. His metal arm is chilled against my hot skin. I try not to shiver to his touch, one I’ve been craving for the longest time.

“So…” He rests his hands on my hips to position me. I can feel his breath tickle the back of my neck. “You don’t need to focus too hard to shoot your target.” I try not to think about it, so hard. The way he holds my waist.

“Just like that.” He whispers as I hold my gun up, which now his hands overlap my own. It’s as if he had taken over my own body, my mind. “Perfect.” He compliments me. I stand firmly as he leans his body more into mine. “That’s it.” POW!

The bullet goes into my target’s chest and I can’t help but to smirk. Good job, doll.” I turn around to face him. The hunger I feel for him, it forms and overrides me. I don’t think about what happens next. All I know is our lips are locked and we’re lost in each other’s touch. We stop for air and he and I gasp. “So my lips were on your mind.” I bite my bottom lip. “They’re deadly.”

“Yes?” I ask. “What if we escaped?” My eyes widened. “Bucky? Are you insane?” I ask him as we both sit up. I look at him with tears in my eyes. “We’ll get caught.” “Not if we’re quiet or fast enough.” His raspy voice echoes in my ears.

“James.. we can’t.” “Yes, we can. Listen.” He holds me by the waist and I lean into his chest. “I’m listening.” “For over fifty years, I’ve had my identity stripped away from me. I was a weapon for HYDRA… I never felt any meaning until I… I met you. You make me feel incredibly human again. The missions we’d go on, the way I hold you. Oh my god, the way you hold me. You make me feel alive, Clare.”

A tear falls down my cheek as I appear to start crying. He puts his metal fingers against my tears and wipes them away. “You are my salvation, Clare. When I first heard your name, it sparked a memory. Of your grandfather. I knew that I needed to help you through this, and get the fuck out. I was actually surprised you trusted me initially.”

I smile in his metallic palm. “Why? Because you’re a brooding soldier and I was the naive billionaire’s daughter who needed discipline. That everyone here wanted to kill?” I laugh at the statement, which makes him laugh.

“Exactly… You had that spark in you. You’re ambitious, spontaneous, sexy.” I giggle with him. “I know I could tell you everything. How I hated being a weapon, being tortured and feeling like a failure. To be fair, I never felt like a failure with you. You make me better.”

I pull him in for a kiss and it’s heated very quickly, with our respective serums coursing in our veins. Our lips and tongues fight for dominance. He begins to nip on my jawline and his arms wrap tightly around me. “I love you, Clare.” He says in my ear and moans leave my needy lips.

“I… I love you too.” I say in pure shock of him professing his love to me. I know very deep in my heart that’s what I want. To be with him. To live a life away from both HYDRA and the Red Room. They took so much from us, that we feel like we fit together, and we do.

“Bucky….” “Hmm?” We continue kissing. “Let’s escape. Tonight. When everyone’s asleep. Tonight, we will be free.” “I love the sound of that. Doll.”

******

I look around to see if the coast is clear. I’m supposed to meet Bucky at this very spot and go to a jet given by Melina, a scientist who was once cycled four times in the program. She actually created the serum we were given that would control us as Dreykov saw fit.

Which is why I can’t actually harm him, and that sucks. Because he took everything from me. From all of us. If I make it out of this alive, I want to find a way to help them. “Clare.” A hushed whisper startles me and I immediately pull my blaster, only to be staring into those familiar blue eyes. “Holy shit.” My breath becomes shaky and I’m back into his arms.

“You scared me.”l’m sorry, my love.” I breathe him in. “Are you ready?” “Yes.” He tightens his arms around me. “Let’s go. Melina is waiting.” I grab my lover’s hand and we stalk the hallways, having our guns ready.

“Clear.” Bucky says as we get closer to our jet. Sweet, sweet freedom. “We’re so close. I can feel it.” Bucky says as his smile brightens the very dim hallway. I can melt. We get to our jet and turn to each other.

“We did it.” I say, completely breathless and in disbelief, as if it were too easy. Nonetheless, I jump into his arms and we kiss. However, a thought occurs. “Where’s Melina?” Thinking we’ve been betrayed, I get out of his arms as his eyes go from awe to being in complete terror. “James…” I whisper before turning to face not only Dreykov, but also Pierce and other soldiers.

“What a lovely couple you two make.” Dreykov teases. A knot forms in my stomach as I squeeze onto Bucky’s hand. “Don’t be afraid. You can do this.” I tell myself as they just stand there. “I can say the same about you two as well.” I manage to say sternly as I don’t look at Bucky, but I can tell he’s impressed.

“You really do have a smart mouth, just like your father. Exactly like him. Sarcastic, charming, and incredibly defiant.” Pierce speaks. Bucky squeezes my hand two times letting me know to get ready for a major fight. “You know, it is forbidden for your union.” Dreykov says. “The Winter Soldier is the greatest weapon of HYDRA.” “And Agent Stark, you’ve been amazing in missions… how was your father?”

Fury runs through me and my blood boils. I’m ready to punch Dreykov in the throat. “Bucky isn’t a weapon.” I scowl. “And don’t you fucking talk about my father.” I dare to grip on Bucky’s hand once more, take a look at him and he nods, saying I got this. I go up, no, storm up to Dreykov and punch him square in the nose, his blood now staining my knuckles.

You see, Bucky snuck in this vial of red dust from Melina before our encounter. I’m fully out of his control. Dreykov looks at me startled. I can’t help the smirk forming. Right before I sweep him off his feet and I turn to Pierce.

“Your friend is knocked off his ass. Want to be next?” I threaten him. But he smirks back. I hear Bucky coming up behind me. “NO!” I hear him yell as he goes to try to fight Pierce, just as his comrades start to walk up. Fuck.

“You can try to get me, but since you two work very well together, I thought I’d give you both a challenge.” I don’t get it, why doesn’t he just say those words to activate the Winter Soldier and just end my life anyway? No, I can’t think that way. Bucky and I will make it out of this. We fucking will.

We stand back to back, weapons ready. “Remember, I’m with you till the end of the line.” Bucky says. “I know.” I breathe. “We’re a team.”

The first comrade approaches me and I send a bite into his skin, disabling him immediately. I hear one groan in pain, assuming Bucky has him in a chokehold. I kick the next comrade, the next one after him I get punched and then dodge his next hit before flipping him on his back, knocking him out. One comes to grab me from behind, so I elbow him, twist his arm and get out of his grip and taze him.

I get my batons and start swinging, kicking, hitting. Blood sprays everywhere. I can hear Bucky grunting and his hands moving into the next comrade. Those loving hands on me, now brutally killing others. There are no more comrades on my side to fight, so I go to help Bucky, only to see that Dreykov is no longer on the ground.

“The Winter Soldier has taught you well.” Dreykov taunts as I whip my head around to face him. Now we’re face to face. “You are so much like your father.” “Yeah.” I glare at him, feeling the blood trickle out of my nose. “I am. “Maybe a little better.” Dreykov sends a taunting laugh.

I make a move to drop kick him, but somehow I can’t get to him. I realize Bucky’s metal arm was around me. No, this can’t happen. Pierce probably activated him. “Bucky, please fight this.” “Clare…” Bucky strains, trying to fight the Soldier. “Soldier, why don’t you prepare your lover for a trip to Serbia.”

No. Suddenly, I watch a series unfold, maybe a dream, as I feel a prick in my arm. I know I’m laying down on something. Bucky defies the Soldier he was. He goes to attack, obliterate other comrades, strangles Dreykov, before punching Pierce in the face. I can feel myself being dragged into the jet by Melina. I fucking knew it.

I feel woozy. “Melina…” “Shh, this might hurt.” I feel another prick as I watch blood sprays everywhere. My lover was defending me, even from his brainwashing. “I love you James Buchanan Barnes.” I say as I slip into unconsciousness.

******

Nine months later

I lay awake, sore from my latest form of torture: getting burned. My torso sears in pain. I miss Bucky so much. I’ve stopped receiving letters from him for a week, tops. I’ve been dreaming about him, my life before the last almost two years. My aching for my family. The last time I saw my father, heartbroken as I pointed my widow bites at him.

Bucky sent me letters and I’d try my best to write him back. He’s not supposed to come see me. He still gets his mind wiped after every mission, lord knows after this one it’ll happen again. It seems they’re trying to erase me from his memory, but it doesn’t work. It feels like he’s resisting, as he snuck in a journal for me to write in, and HYDRA doesn’t seem to mind.

So, I will write about my days in it. When they try to break me, keep my letters and notes from James. His promise to get us out. To see my family. Maybe somehow start a family, as I’m pretty sure they took that away. All of it seems pointless though. Rumple is relentless when it comes to the torture. His favorite is starving me.

I’m writing in my journal when I see a piece of paper slide in the door. He’s back. I don’t hesitate putting down the journal and getting the note.

“Hi darling. I’m so sorry for making you wait so long. I was on a rampage chasing a bird, a widow and another super soldier. Captain America. He says we were best friends. Listen, they’re going to send you to Sokovia. I don’t know for how long, but I’ve fought tooth and nail for you, and still will. I brought something back for you to keep me close. I love you. I will get you out. - James”

I open the envelope and it’s a dog tag. I look at it closely. It’s one of his dog tags from the war. I smell the note and it smells like him, and hold it to my heart with the dog tag. “I love you.” I whisper as I put the dog tag around my neck. I slip the note into the journal when Rumlow yells, “Stark, grab your shit. You're being transferred. I will miss your pretty face.”

“Oh, I’m sure you will.” I say spitting into his own smug face before walking off with guards. I can feel Bucky’s presence even if I know he’s getting his mind wiped. “You got this Clare.” I can hear his voice in my head as I leave Siberia.

New chapters to come every two weeks! Chapter One will be out the night of March 8th! 🦾🥀

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ethanhoewke · 3 days ago

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Chibi style Deadpool and Wolverine💕

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ethanhoewke · 4 days ago

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For the drabble thing, if this speaks to your muse...

dark!Steve K. x dark!reader

Jealousy prompts #12

"Hey, look at me. I'm yours and no one else can change that."

All yours

You notice the dinner table ready for two people, but where’s Steve and who did he plan a dinner with?

Pairing: Soft!Dark!Steve Kemp x Soft!Dark!Fem!Reader

Wordcount: 697 Words

Warnings: dark content (if you know the movie), jealousy, fluff

Authors Note: Hope you enjoy. Divider made by me. @holylulusworld LOOK WHO WE HAVE HERE…🤭🤭

Masterlist | Steve Kemp Masterlist

Walking into the kitchen, you notice the glasses on the table, the plates in front of them, and the expensive wine already in the glasses. The house is filled with the wonderful smell of the noodles your boyfriend makes so perfectly. But there is no sign of him.

“Steve? Steve!” You shout through the hallway, looking around. His phone is placed on the kitchen counter next to the finished food, and you narrow your eyes. “Where are you, babe?”

You take another step into the kitchen, when suddenly a pair of strong arms wraps around your waist and pulls you back into a muscular chest. “Hi, my love.”

Steve’s familiar, musky scent surrounds you, and you relax in his embrace, letting yourself fall backwards. He leans forward, kissing down your neck and to your shoulder before he trails his lips upwards and nips at your earlobe.

“Missed you; got dinner ready,” he mumbles, but you’re skeptical. You’re not sure why, but usually he would fill the glasses once you’re seated, but now he does it already. Did he plan to eat with someone else and change his plans when you said you would come over?

“Where were you?”

“In the basement, finishing some orders,” he explains, his lips back on your neck before you push away from him with a low growl in your throat. Steve sighs, leaning against the kitchen counter next to him.

His ocean blue eyes look you up and down, taking in your tension. You turn to face him, looking back to the table, before you look at your boyfriend again.

“Why is the wine already in the glasses? You never do that before we sit. Did you have plans? Is there someone else?” You ask, your voice dropping to a dangerous growl.

Steve smiles softly, pushing himself off the counter, and takes a step closer to you. His big hands find their way to your hips, a tight grip to keep you in place and offer him to get closer to you. He shakes his head slightly, tilting it.

“The only person I have plans with is you, baby. There is no one else, sweetheart, you know that, don’t you?” He asks, but you still look unsure if you want to trust him or not. Of course, you love him, but the fear that he will find someone else and push you away is sometimes filling more of your mind than acknowledging that he loves you.

You turn your head to the side, looking at the dining table. Your boyfriend sighs softly; he keeps looking at you with a soft, loving expression. He might do a job that’s not considered a job, and he might do things most people wouldn’t consider as good or legal.

But there’s always you, who keeps the softness and light in the darkness, in the cold. He knows that he has always someone who loves him just as much as he loves you. Steve would give up his job, but he would never dare to even think about pushing you away.

“Look at me,” he mumbles, turning your face to make you look at him. A soft smile — one he reserves only for you — spreads on his lips. “I’m yours, and no one else can change that.”

Before you can answer him, he presses his lips on yours, devouring your sweet taste when his tongue pokes between your lips. You immediately bring your hands to his neck, pulling him closer. Steve grins into the kiss; even though he’s kissing you with such softness and tenderness, he slightly fights with you for dominance — something he loves to do because he just loves to feel you pulling his hair when you try to push his tongue down with yours.

“Nah… you know who’s in charge, sweetheart,” he mumbles against your lips when you tug his hair harshly. With a growl that leaves your lips, he kisses you once more, softer, sweeter. “The glasses are filled because I love when you get all jealous and possessive. Just love to kiss the attitude out of you before we have dinner and dessert. Sweet, filthy, delicious, but also a pleasurable dessert, sweetheart.”

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