#He's like a Russian doll but every time he takes a cap off there's just another cap

[downtherabbitholewithlucy]

Way before this dynamic duo starred in the short film, The Truth (2014), Fred and Wes graced our screens and captured our hearts in

(Please don’t re-post/share this edit I made anywhere else. Please just only reblog this on Tumblr. Thank you!)

[whirlybirbs]

         (  chapter 6′s gif by @buckysbarnes​​ from this lovely set !  )

✪   —   VACANT MIRRORS  ;  B.B.  |  6/?

summary: gunshot wounds, panic attacks, and evil next door neighbors.

pairing: bucky barnes / f!reader

tags: set before & during tfatws, friends to lovers, therapy positive, trauma healing techniques, ptsd mentions, the normalization of anxiety disorders, and a good ol’ slow burn

word count: 5.3k, a filler before the real sexual tension.

a/n: be warned, this chapter has a diy medical procedure where bucky removes the slug from rabbit’s shoulder. it’s nothing too graphic, but keep that in mind! also, i wanted to say thank you to everyone who has rec’d, reblogged, commented, kudos, liked, looked at this fic. the response to every chapter has been so overwhelmingly kind and i’m so thankful that i have the oppurtunity to share this fic with you all. that being said, i broke this chapter up. next week has some spice. ;-)

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Bucky wakes up with a headache that feels like someone’s tapped an icepick between his eyes. A fire-bright burn radiates under his ribs.

It’s a slow creep back to reality — he just lays there and stares at the peeling wallpaper that meets the corner of the ceiling for a while, knowing deep in the back of his muddled, confused thoughts that he most likely has a nasty concussion, maybe a few broken ribs.

How? Hm. Fighting. Music? The club.

Rabbit.

He sits up fast and Bucky’s blue eyes struggle to adjust in the low-light of the scarcely furnished apartment. The searing pang of his headache is enough to make his stomach churn, but he’s had worse. So much worse. This is manageable. So, he swallows down the nausea and looks around the room like a wounded animal — and almost immediately, relief greets him at the sight of you in the armchair across from the couch.

Your hair is a mess, falling from it’s previous style that you’d proudly worn to The Glass Cannon. Your lipstick is smeared, there’s glitter on your cheeks, and your make-up has transitioned from starlet beauty to broken-hearted bombshell. Bucky notices, with a bit of dismay, that you’re even missing an earring. There’s a nasty bruise forming along the peak of your cheekbone and a gash there from when Alexei had cracked you across the face with the pistol — and even despite all this, Bucky can feel his heart clench at the sight of you. A good clench. The sort that makes his heart kick into a stutter step.

You look… well, you look like someone who’d had the shit choked out of them and then was shot.

Shot.

Your jacket, punched clean through with the single bullet hole, is hanging over the back of the chair and there’s gauze taped to your shoulder. You’re leaning your good cheek in your hand, attention turned totally to Bucky, where you’ve fallen asleep. From here, you’re a picture of exhaustion.

Anxiety flashes in his heart and he swings his legs over the edge of the couch.

Suddenly, there’s a hand on his shoulder.

“Take it easy.”

It’s the woman from before, Kiwi, and she’s got an ice pack in her hands. It’s wrapped in a ratty, green dish towel, and she hands it off to Bucky with a pitiful little look. Rounding the couch, Bucky finally gets a better look at her.

She’s older than you, maybe by a handful of years, but sharp and beautiful nonetheless. Her hair is dark as night and the tips are drenched in a lime colored dye. Her eyes are dark, too, ringed by kohl and glitter, and Bucky wonders if he’s ever seen her before.

“You heal quick,” she says quietly as she plops down into the chair across the room. On a makeshift desk, there’s a laptop, “Care to explain how you know our dear friend Rabbit here?”

Bucky shifts uncomfortably. Again, his eyes fall on your sleeping form.

He maneuvers the ice pack in his hands, then gently presses it to his ribs. He melts a bit, ignoring the evident tears in the silk shirt. He feels bad — he’d busted some of the seams in the midst of the brutal scuffle and it seems like this artifact of Jaimie’s was most likely beyond salvation.

His dog tags jingle against his chest.

“Therapy,” Bucky croaks, “We, uh, we met in therapy.”

A new voice comes into the picture now, one that’s muffled by a mouthful of food.

“That’s cute.”

It’s the other one, Climber. He’s traded in his all-black, all-polyurethane outfit for an expensive looking t-shirt. Without the strobes, without the tunnel vision, Bucky can now see the intricate buzz cut that sits beneath the mountain of blue curls on his head. There are patterns buzzed into his tight-shave. He’s got a smile, too, the glimmers a little too artificially. Bucky spies crystals inset on his incisors between bites of what looks like a bowl of cereal with no milk. Spoon and all.

“I don’t think we’ve properly met,” Climber says as he plops down next to Bucky on the couch, “What’d you say your name was?”

A hand is jutted his way. Bucky blinks. He shakes it with his vibranium hand.

“I’m Bucky.”

“Well, I’m gay and you’re gorgeous,” he says candidly, giving it a good shake, “So, if that’s of any interest—”

“Can you please shut up, Climber?” comes an irritated rasp from you in your armchair. Bucky turns to watch as you raise your head and rub your eyes, “Christ, I just fell asleep.”

“And your little supersoldier just woke up,” Kiwi chirps from her preoccupation with the laptop and contents on it, “So why don’t you stop being a little baby and let him look at that gunshot wound.”

Bucky’s face falls flat. He drops the ice pack to the coffee table with a thwunk.

You sit up, gingerly trying to maneuver yourself so as to not bother both your ribs and your shoulder. It takes a moment, but finally you’re sitting up with only a dull ache of pain throbbing beneath your skin. Now, the real sting comes from the bitter look Bucky has pinned you with.

“You haven’t cleaned it yet?”

“The shits in the kitchen,” Kiwi waves at Bucky, as if to say told you so, “She fuckin’ refused to let me take care of it.”

“You’re going to get an infection if it stays in you any longer,” he snaps, standing to his feet, “Get up.”

“Kiwi isn’t exactly the most gentle person I know,” you manage to supply as an excuse as you move through the room, “And I know that thing isn’t coming out without a fight.”

He can feel the grey hairs coming in already.

You stand slowly, and Bucky looms behind you as you weave into the small apartment’s kitchen.

It’s barely lived in, but a few years ago it most definitely had life. Now, it’s mostly abandoned save for a few necessities. Kiwi had told you, a long time ago, about this spot — it was her parent’s place before the Snap. After the Blip, they ended up moving back to Massachusetts. Now abandoned by anyone seeking to really live in the one bedroom, it sits collecting dust until Kiwi inevitably needs it.

Like now.

“Up on the counter.”

You wince at his tone, but still thankful to be away from Kiwi and Climber’s prying eyes.

For the entire time Bucky had been out, you’d been subjected to a myriad of questions — all were fair, really, since Bucky did just bust out the Avenger-level super-moves on some Russian mafiosos for your sake, vibranium arm and all. The arm was really the biggest stuck point in the conversation as you tried your best to explain the nature of your relationship with the unconscious supersoldier on the couch. It was met with plenty of looks, both curious and skeptical.

You’re slow to hop up on the dusty marble countertop. From there, you watch Bucky poke through the kit that Kiwi had pulled from under the sink.

Then, with the calculated process of a man who has pulled one too many bullets from himself, Bucky slams the kit shut and wanders into the bathroom.

He returns with a pair of large tweezers. He’s silent as the dead as he rummages for a pan, fills it with water, and sets the gas burner on. He stares, watching the pot boil, as his foot taps against the floor.

You swallow down any comments.

There’s a clean towel beside you, and Bucky casually reached into the boiling water with his vibranium hand to retrieve the tweezers — whether or not he purposely ignored the pain is lost on you. You’re too busy anxiously spiraling into silence.

(He’s trying to ground himself, to feel something other than panic. It’s a mild spike, but it’s still panic. Because you’re hurt. Because you still have a fucking casing lodged in your shoulder and he doesn’t want anything bad to happen to you. Ever. Because he saw it happen and then it was black, and now that anxiousness is creeping in.)

Rubbing alcohol, tweezers, gauze, tape, and… Jack Daniel’s.

It’s from the top of the fridge. It’s got a layer of dust on it — and it’s unopened.

Bucky unceremoniously pops the cap and hands the open bottle to you.

You take it and pause.

Bucky’s gaze is cold.

“You’re gonna want to take a few swigs, Doll.”

You almost snarl. You take a long drink then, ignoring the burn of the whiskey down your throat. It’s only when you’ve had enough to nearly gag that you hand the bottle back and then hiss:

“Don’t call me Doll.”

He takes the bottle and unceremoniously slams it down on the counter.

His movements are rough as he washes his hands — and if Bucky was a better person, maybe he’d take a second and parse through why he was feeling so damn irritable. But, no, no, he could figure out that he was angry at himself and you and Alexei Gardzov and Innessa Sidrova and fucking… everyone because he can’t have any normal relationships in his life without there being bloodshed or pain or suffering. That was enough, and he didn’t want to dig deeper into the nipping fear of losing you, not now, not when he had a job to do—

You suck in a sharp breath when his fingers brush your collarbone. He gently moves the delicate strap of your bodysuit, ignoring the soft skin beneath, and pulls the gauze away from your shoulder.

Your jacket had taken most of the impact it seems. Bucky frowns deeply at the pink fibers clinging to the entry wound. It’s a nasty puckered bit of flesh, smeared with blood, right in the soft muscle of your left shoulder. The hole is a little smaller than a quarter — Bucky recognizes it as shot from a 9mm almost immediately. He’s taken a few of these in his days. He’s glad it wasn’t close range. The burns from the muzzle flash make for nasty scars. He’d know. He has one on his back, right above his hip.

Bucky’s jaw is tight. He’s gritting his back teeth. His headache throbs angrily behind his eyes.

Bucky leans, eyeing the wound carefully. His limited reaction is enough to spark a little light of bravery in your gut, and you move to look at the hole — only to find a vibranium hand rooting your jaw in place. It’s gentle enough as it recorrects the line of your gaze straight ahead. His thumb rests on the curve of your chin as his index climbs your jaw, and the vibranium is warm and cold all at once. It’s an odd sensation. Not bad, but not flesh.

You like it.

(You find your mind quickly flashing with the thought of what that hand would feel like in other places. You ignore it.)

Your eyes are stuck on Bucky.

He’s clearly upset — the pinch between his brows and the evident scowl on his lips is enough of an indication. The bridge of his nose is busted and there’s a bruise crawling under his left eye. The shirt you’d given him is a wreck, and as he bends to snatch up a rubbing alcohol soaked pad, the feeling of shame creeps up on you. The anxiousness that’s settled in the pit of your stomach doesn’t help.

Arguably, it exacerbates the symptom.

The whiskey is slow to make an impact.

But, when Bucky finally swipes the gauze across the wound, your ankles have begun to tingle and it isn’t blinding white pain you feel — not yet. It’s sharp and it feels like he’s touching your shoulder blade when he presses his fingers into the holes to clean the immediate area. That has you grimacing tightly.

His obsidian-hued hand holds your face still through it.

So, you opt to stare.

His arm reminds you of some pottery you’d seen back at the Museum of Modern Art once, on a school trip. In a dimly lit room, spotlights lit up a row of vases that had been gilded back together with gold-dusted sap. You’d sat there for nearly an hour, staring at those things. You can’t remember the name now, not while Bucky does one more pass across the wound. It started with a ‘k’. It was beautiful. You loved that exhibit. Why can’t you — fuck — remember the name? Kinsi… kinsigumi? Gumi. Kintsi —

You grit your teeth and grip the counter tightly. He pauses. You exhale.

You inhale.

Kintsugi.

The seams of his arm remind you of Kintsugi.

It’s beautiful.

Bucky’s eyes flit to yours. He sees your stare.

Maybe it’s the pain, or the half-cocked daze, but the look in your eyes is enough to spur an immediate reaction. Bucky scowls. He yanks his hand back, retreating to the supplies on the counter. He’s pulled, hard and fast, and now he seems miles away.

Quietly, and with a bit more chill than he intended, he speaks. “If it was making you nervous, you should have said something.”

It.

Your head snaps to him.

“What?” you ask, nearly incredulously.

He’s silent. He has the tweezers in his hand now.

Your eyes narrow critically — and instead of shame and anxiety, it’s hurt that flies off your tongue. It’s drenched in enough pain that Bucky hears it in the waver of your voice.

“You think I’m afraid of you?”

It’s nearly a whisper.

He swallows.

He ignores it. He has to. He doesn’t want to know the answer. Either way that conversation goes is enough to drag him into territory he can’t handle right now. Not when he needs to do this without his hands shaking.

“This is going to hurt.”

Your mouth is open — be it shock or anger, he’s not sure. Bucky, however, makes a point of ignoring your expression and your reaction by handing over the whiskey once more. You snatch it from his hands quickly. There’s a look on your face that makes his chest ache. With one last pass over him with your eyes, you take a long swig.

You feel like crying.

You won’t, though. Not now. Not while he does this.

You deserve this.

And holy fucking hell does it hurt. It’s like someone’s taken a hot poker and punctured your skin, then rotated it around and around and around. You can feel every time the tweezers touch the bullet because the metallic little click echoes in your chest. It’s enough to make your head spin, and you grit your teeth and close your eyes and try to breathe — but even after a handful of minutes, when Bucky finally retrieves the slug, there’s no relief. Just a desperate throb.

Your hands are shaking when you reach for the whiskey once more.

You do cry, finally, when Bucky packs the hole.

He rolls the gauze up tightly into a cylinder and, as gently as he can, pushes it in.

It’s a horrible choke of pain that you smother into your palm and pant through. It reminds you to breathe, and while you stare up at the water damage on the kitchen ceiling, Bucky tapes a square piece of gauze over the bruised wound and wraps your shoulder tightly. He takes his time, but there’s a curtness to his actions.

Finally, when he begins to clean up the mess of bloodied gauze, you speak.

“If you’re mad at me, then just say it.”

He snaps almost immediately, like a kicked dog. “And say what, Rabbit? That I almost lost you?”

Your mouth slips shut.

Bucky pauses what he’s doing. He drops the gauze onto the towel and he bares both hands against the counter top. He leans and exhales and drops his own head back — then, you can see his own waves of anxiety knocking him against the shore of composure. His eyes move back and forth, he inhales, and then after a long while he speaks.

It’s calmer. Not so horribly mean.

“You should have told me about Alexei.”

You go to speak — but he stops you.

“I mean really, really told me,” he explains, “Had I known he wanted your fucking head mounted on a spike, I would have kept you far away from that place.”

“We had to—”

“No,” he says sternly, standing up full height, “No, we didn’t. We never have to do anything that’s going to put you in danger. Never. I won’t do it again. You should have fuckin’ told me.”

You’re quiet.

“A few more inches to the right,” he says, gesturing to your throat with his finger. His eyes are expressive and he’s speaking like he’s lived this experience, “You’d be dead. Cold and dead and I’d be here, carrying the fucking guilt around with me because I wouldn’t have been able to do anything.”

His voice splinters at the end — but he’s moved to throw away the gauze and dump the tweezers in the sink. He can’t look at you as he says it, and you know that. Because, just like before, people like you and him have a hard time looking the truth in the eyes.

You slide off the counter.

Your heart is sad. It’s heavy and mournful and weighed down with guilt.

“Bucky.”

It’s soft. He’s scrubbing your blood from his hands.

He doesn’t turn around. He can’t. He can feel the prick of an anxious breakdown beginning to climb into his eyes. Instead, he scrubs and scrubs and scrubs and your blood is stuck in the plating of his hand and it’s not going to come out—

Think of what could have happened if it had been a few inches to the right. The arched spray. Blood everywhere. She can’t speak through the gargle, she’s going cold, she’s gone. And, like always, you’re alone again, Bucky.

Then, your hands are on his.

The touch is enough to stop him. It’s enough for him to move aside at the large, inset kitchen sink. You exhale slowly as you run the water a little warmer and gingerly run his hands under the tap. Your hands are smaller than his, a bit more delicate, and he’s stunned into a sharp silence at the feeling of your fingertips gently washing away the crimson blood.

You grab another dish towel from a drawer beside the stove.

Then, in the dim light of the kitchen, you take both his hands and dry them.

It’s the vibranium hand that you pay special attention to, though. And Bucky feels like a fucking idiot — just standing there, just watching as you run the rag between the gilded plating and use gentle pressure to get into the harder to reach spots. You turn it over, and you dry his knuckles.

You take your time.

You don’t look up when you speak. You’re focused. Almost reverent.

He doesn’t deserve this.

“I’m not afraid of you,” you say sternly.

His mouth is dry. “Rabbit…”

Bucky shifts on his feet and takes a deep inhale. He feels lightheaded.

The whiskey, and the closeness of the two of you, makes your skin warm. His whole nervous system feels like it’s on fire.

“I didn’t mean to stare, I don’t ever mean to,” you apologize as your hands still over his arm. He watches your irises trace the plating above his wrist. The rag is forgotten, its purpose null. Your words are heavy, and Bucky can hear a little shake in them as you swallow, “I just… think it’s beautiful.”

You’re beautiful.

Even now, blood-soaked and sweat-stained. With makeup running down your cheeks and your composure in shambles. Even now, on the run and apparently wanted, you’re incredibly beautiful. Bucky hates how easy it is to admit and how hard it is to keep off his tongue. It nearly gets the better of him. He watches your eyelashes flutter. When you look up at him, the world is suddenly drowned in honey.

“I’m sorry.”

You mean it.

Your bottom lip wobbles.

Bucky, immediately, regrets being so goddamn cold.

You were just trying to help — you were just trying to do the right thing.

“Stop it. Come here.”

The hug is the first time you can remember touching him like this. You think you’ll always remember it, too. It’s sturdy and warm and gentle and honest and you bury your face into the shoulder as his arms come up around your neck. He’s careful of your own injured shoulder, and his fingers find the base of your neck. Around his waist, your fingers dig into the back of his shirt. Both of you ground yourselves in the other’s arms, and for the first time in a handful of hours, you both find peace.

Quiet, sturdy, lovely peace.

And the two of you stay like that for a while in the quiet little kitchen.

It’s not until Climber’s voice rises from the living room that you’re pulled away from Bucky — and even then, your face linger inches from one another for a moment too long. Neither of you say a word, only swallow down confessions that could have been, and move on.

“Oh, girlie, you’re gonna wanna see this.”

Bucky frowns. With your brows knotted tightly together, you weave through the kitchen and back into the living room.

Kiwi has sat up and both her and Climber have their eyes on the bulky flat screen on the dust-covered entertainment center. It’s cable news, and as Climber leans to turn the television up, a picture of you flashes across the screen.

It’s a photo from your arrest six months ago.

“Local authorities are asking that anyone with information on the whereabouts of this young woman call the FBI’s anonymous tip line—”

“Is there a reward?” Climber whispers almost excitedly, eyes on the screen.

“—Authorities are offering $100,000 dollars to the person who provides enough information to lead up to this dangerous fugitive’s capture.”

“Dangerous fugitive?” hisses Bucky.

“A hundred thousand dollars?” cries Kiwi, “Who the fuck did you piss off?”

You inhale deeply as you wave your hands. “The bigger question is who the fuck knew I was going to The Glass Cannon last night. Because they’re looking for me — not you.”

You point at Bucky and the gears are turning in your head.

The pacing is almost immediate, and Bucky crosses his arms tightly as you begin to walk back and forth behind the full length couch that Climber is currently spread out on.

It’s cut short, though, by Kiwi’s laptop chiming successfully.

“Well,” she stands quickly, “I have a feeling that someone knows you’re onto them. And the facial recognition software just got a match. A three point one, too.”

Your eyes brighten.

You’d given Kiwi the photo of the young Innessa, with all her decorated furs and blonde curls. She’s laughing and she’s young and she’s in love and it’s hard for you to imagine a woman like her to be dangerous. While you’d made sure Bucky was propped up comfortably on the couch and then finally calmed down from the adrenaline high enough to get comfortable yourself, Kiwi had dug out the hard-drive she kept on her at all times and began pulling data from the Alexandria Library files.

It had been a handful of hours, so it was clear that Innessa had hid herself well in the vast, expansive database SHIELD kept for all those years while it was in operation.

Bucky is quick to gather behind Kiwi, eyes scanning the screen.

Sure enough, when you come to look at the photos pulled up on Kiwi’s screen, there’s a hit. There’s an identification card photo of an older woman, maybe in her forties, pulled up alongside the photo Bucky had given you. Her hair is no longer blonde, but deep auburn color. She’s marked as having worked with Rumlow — a supervisor of some sort. Makes sense. You didn’t need to see a picture of Crossbones to remember Brock. Even when you’d interned, he’d been infamous.

And that was when he was one of the good guys.

There’s a handful of other photos of her — candids, professional photos, and even one where she is shaking Tony Stark’s hand.

And in all of them, you see your next door neighbor Bonnie McLayne.

“Fuck.”

Bucky blinks. Kiwi turns to look at you over her shoulder.

Again, you speak. Your eyes are wide. You can’t look away from the screen.

“Fuck, fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”

“Rabbit…?”

“Fuck.”

Bucky’s face narrows considerably, confusion melting to make room for realization.

His voice is quiet.

“Do you know her?”

“Oh my god,” you say loudly, shaking your head and blinking, “Oh my fucking god, that’s my neighbor.”

Bucky can feel his whole face go clammy.

“The neighbor who—”

“—Who I showed your fucking picture to,” you nearly shriek, “Like it was some cute little matchmaking game!”

Immediately both hands are over your face as you throw your head back. Now, the pacing has begun, and like you’re being carried on autopilot, you begin to move back and forth and back and forth and—

“You don’t think she’d hurt Poke, do you?”

“Rabbit.”

“Oh god, oh god—”

Oh.

Oh, you’re having a panic attack.

Oh, that was quick. Brutally fast. Nearly immediate.

After all, she knows where your family lives. She gets Holiday cards from mom to give to you. She’s been your closest friend for nearly six years. But she’s not Bonnie, she’s Innessa fucking Sidrova. She’s seen you with Bucky. She knows — she knows a lot and you don’t know anything and you’re miles from home, from Poke, from Mom, from Ana… Oh, god, the baby. The baby.

“The baby.”

Bucky’s voice is level. “Rabbit, you gotta calm down.”

“I have to call my mom.”

“No,” Kiwi snaps immediately, “They’re going to be watching for your cell phone pings. No calls, no texting, none of it. And god forbid this woman is one step ahead of the FBI—”

“Oh, god.”

You gasp like a fish out of water, paralyzing fear sending you to lean against the back of the couch.

You claw at your chest and try to remember what Dr. Hart said about these sorts of moments. Square breathing. In and hold and out and hold. Again and again.  

“Sit down,” Bucky says as he returns to your side, nearly sweeping you up long enough to plop you down into the armchair from before, “And do me a favor and breathe.”

The whiskey isn’t helping right now.

“I’m trying.”

Another gasped breath.

Climber and Kiwi watch.

Bucky shakes his head sternly, kneeling on one knee and snagging your hands. “Don’t try. Just do it. You can do it. Just follow my lead — you’re the sidekick, after all. Remember? C’mon. There’s the smile. Breathe.”

So you do.

In, hold. Out, hold. You draw a square with one hand on your jeans and hold onto Bucky’s with the other.

Again, in and hold. Out and hold.

And again.

And then, you just listen to Bucky’s breathing.

You’re not sure how long it takes — half an hour, ten minutes, who knows — but finally you’re able to calm the spiraling thoughts in your head. Finally, the loudness quiets down, you catch your breath, and the world isn’t falling apart. The bite of anxiety still remains in the hollow of your chest and Bucky can see that when you finally open your eyes and squeeze his hand.

There’s that look again between the two of you. The one from before, in the kitchen.

“Good?” he asks quietly, blue eyes swimming with some sort of emotion you can’t really pin down. Not now. Maybe, if you’d been a bit more collected, you would have seen it as infatuation. But, no. It’s just… nice.

You swallow and nod.

“Damn, girl,” says Climber from his spot on the couch, “Now I’m starting to get the whole therapy thing.”

“Thanks, dickhead.”

“That’s recent, isn’t it?” he asks, genuine worry crossing his face as he stands to gently pass a hand over your back, “I don’t remember it ever being this bad.”

Your face is sad. “I was just partying through it back then. Distraction was always the best method and then… When I had no more distractions and it was just me? Alone? And, psh, the accident with Jaimie? It got worse. So much worse.”

Climber’s eyes soften. “I’m sorry, bunny.”

You try to put on a brave face.

Bucky stands from in front of you and begins his own pacing. This one isn’t so much born out of anxious nature — but more of a tactical logic born out of keeping you safe.

This wasn’t exactly the turn he was expecting.

“You didn’t recognize her?” he asks after a moment, voice high and tight.

“I’m sorry,” you wave a hand, exasperated, “She doesn’t exactly look the same as she did in the 70s.”

Kiwi frowns at the screen. “Definitely botox.”

Bucky squints. He looks to you for an explanation.

You vaguely gesture to your face.

His brow lifts, he closes his eyes, and he sighs.

Kiwi is next to pipe up. “It explains why the feds are looking for you, especially if she saw you with the one man she knows is looking to hunt her down — so, I think it’s best the both of you lay low for a couple of days.”

“Not to mention,” Climber wags a finger, “Bucky the Babe over here did just piss off one the smaller Russian crime families in New York. So, there’s always that ontop of the evil Nazi-HYDRA-woman-next-door.”

You groan.

“Poke has enough food for a week,” Bucky says nearly reading your mind, “He’ll be fine.”

“So, what? We just wait here? Until something happens?”

“Sidrova is going to try and bait us out,” Bucky mutters, “She knows she can’t just disappear. She’s been settled for too long and we know too much. Engaging us in an altercation is how she’ll do it. Plus, I have a feeling she wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to shoot me in the knees after a few decades. So, we wait.”

“Few decades?” Kiwi whispers.

“How old are you?” Climber asks.

“Hundred and six.”

Both of them just blink at an unphased Bucky.

You sigh, finally standing on wobbly legs. “This feels like a bad idea. I’m just stating that for the record.”

“Better than her hunting the both of you down,” Kiwi supplies, “You can stay here. There’s cable, there’s booze, and there’s plenty of instant ramen to last you until winter.”

“Stale cereal, too.”

“Wait— where are you two going?” you ask, narrowing your eyes, “You’re leaving?”

“Keeping our hands clean,” Kiwi says, closing her laptop, “And letting you be the sidekick, bunny.”

The sadness in your heart grows a little heavier at those words, but there’s a little bit of pride in Kiwi’s tone. As she stands, she moves to wrap her arms around you in a gentle hug. Quietly, she murmurs into your hair.

“Your dad would be proud of you, y’know.”

Bucky watches.

Climber is next, and that hug is bigger, more brotherly, more like sunshine and less like autumn.

“Don’t be a stranger, Rabbit.”

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out as the two of them gather their belongings, “For dragging you both into this. But, thank you. You didn’t have to help me—”

“Yeah, we did,” Kiwi chirps as she knocks Bucky on the arm three times, “Keep her safe, aakarshak purush.”

The Hindi rolls off her tongue with ease.

Bucky laughs. “Bahut lamba.”

Kiwi pauses mid-step. She narrows her eyes. There’s a smile on her lips. “Your pronunciation isn’t bad.”

He shrugs plainly. “I get lunch almost everyday at the Indian place below my apartment, so. The owner has been teaching me some stuff on the side.”

An approving nod.

Kiwi hucks you the keys across the room.

She points at Bucky.

“I like him. Try not to fuck that up, eh?”

And then, the two of them are gone.

And it’s just you and Bucky in the empty apartment.

[laedback-taurus]

No one touches his girl

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: none Word Count: 1622 A/n: This is pretty much an insert of you into the events of Madripoor, with an overprotective Bucky.

The relationship between you and Bucky is an odd one, anyone can see that you both deeply care for each other but neither of you has told the other this. You had stayed by Steve’s side as he did everything to save his best friend from the hold of Hydra, falling for the broken man as you did so.

You had made vow to yourself that when he came out of the ice again in Wakanda, you would be there, you were going to do whatever you could to help Bucky free himself from the Winter Soldier, Bucky falling for you as you did so.

You stood by his side during the battle in Wakanda, only to end up losing him in the end. Losing him had devastated you, you had been by his side for so long now that you did not know what to do without him.

You had worked tirelessly with Steve and Nat to find a way to bring everyone back, to bring Bucky back to you, but you always failed. Until Scott appeared with his theory of time travel, then Tony figured it out and that is when you knew that all hope was not lost.

You had found him during the heat of the battle against Thanos, running to him as soon as you locked eyes with him. He opened his arms and you crashed into him, mumbling into his chest about how much you missed him. He kissed your hair and told you to save it for later, we had a war to win.

You had been there for him when Steve left him, choosing Peggy over him. You could tell it hurt him; he just didn’t want to show it in front of his childhood friend. You held his hand as he looked at Steve, who lived a full life in their time without him.

You had stayed in touch with him in the weeks after the final battle, he got himself an apartment, which you had a key to visited often, he was going to therapy and was apparently “making amends”. You were sitting with him when the new Captain America was announced, demanding that you go with him to find Sam, to which he objected but of course you won and set off with him.

And now you were here, in Madripoor, with Sam dressed like a pimp, Bucky dressed as the Winter Soldier and with Zemo of all people. You followed Zemo through what he referred to las Low Town, sticking close to Bucky, your silver dress not leaving much to the imagination. If you had been paying much attention you would have noticed how much Bucky hated the attention you were getting because of it. His jaw clenched as he started down a few men who were looking you up and down with clearly bad intentions. You enter the club with men, making your way over to the bar, you could hear all the whispers in crowd over Bucky’s presence. You did catch a few women sending him flirty looks, which you didn’t appreciate at all, although you did have to admit, he looked incredible in his Winter Soldier outfit.

You stood at the bar, still quite close to Bucky for security, watching Zemo interact with the bartender.

“The usual?” he asked Sam who gave a short nod. The bartender pulled out a snake, placing it the bench and began cutting it open. You quickly turned away at the sight, looking at Bucky, who was leaning against the bar. He sent you a subtle concerned look, you smiled to let him know that you were alright. You stayed facing Bucky, knowing that Sam was about to down the shot behind you. Suddenly a man appeared behind the four of you, all of you turning to face him when he spoke.

“I got word from on high. You ain’t welcome here” He warned, his attention on Zemo.

“I have no business with the Power Broker, but if he insists, he can either come and talk to me…” He gestured towards Bucky.

“New haircut?” the guy asked, Bucky just stared back at him. You were getting slightly uncomfortable, and Bucky was picking up on this.

“or bring Selby for chat” Zemo finished. The guy walked away, shaking his head slightly.

“A Power Broker? Really?” Bucky asked Zemo.

“Every kingdom needs its king, lets just pray we stay off his radar” Zemo replied.

“Do you know him?” You asked.

“Only by reputation. In Madripoor he is judge, jury and executioner” as Zemo spoke you noticed another man slowly approaching you. “Winter Soldier” Zemo spoke in Russian, Bucky nodded.

“Attack” He said, just as the man placed his hand on your shoulder. The frighten look on your face was enough to set Bucky off. He grabbed the man’s hand, twisting it back away from shoulder. Bucky looked back at you quickly as if to check if you were alright then proceeded to slam the man into the ground. You watched as more men advanced on Bucky, him taking them all down with ease.

You would be lying if you said that you weren’t slightly flattered by how quick Bucky was to protect you and you did kind of like the over protectiveness of his actions but seeing him now, it was as if nothing had changed, he could revert back to the Winter Soldier so easily.

“Didn’t take much for him to fall back into form” Zemo stated to both you and Sam. He was right and you hated that he was. You placed your hand on Bucky’s metal arm when Zemo spoke. “Stay in character or the whole bar turns on us” He whispered to you.

“Well done, Soldier” Zemo spoke in Russian once again.

“Selby will see you now” the bartender spoke as Bucky let go of the man he had pined to the bar, letting him fall to the ground. Zemo turned to leave, you looked at Bucky, worried about him.

“You okay?” You asked, he just looked at you and went to follow Zemo.

---

So, deal with Selby did not go to plan at all. The four of you had been running down a street, trying to dodge the bullets being fired at you when you turned into an alleyway. Bucky stood ready to protect you when suddenly shots were fired from a window above, saving you from the goons that had been after you. Turns out the person who had saved you all was Sharon, who was now living in Madripoor after stealing cap’s shield and Sam’s wings. She had taken you all back to her place, sending the men in one direction to clean up and change, taking you in another. She brought you into a dressing room and motioned to the clothes around the room.

“Pick anyone you like and change into it; I’m going to check in with the others” She said with a smile as she left you be.

It had taken a while, but you soon settled on a satin emerald, green dress that had thing straps, a low v at the chest and followed out from the cinch at your waist. You were struggling with the zipper at the back when there was a knock on the door.

“Yes?” You called out, turning to the door, holding the front of your dress up, so it didn’t fall down and expose you.

“It’s Bucky” an all too familiar voice replied.

“Come in” You offered, and the door slowly opened. There stood Bucky in all black, everything fit him perfectly, from the pants to the blazer, he looked gorgeous. “Perfect timing Buck, I can’t zip my dress up, could you get it for me?” You asked hopefully.

“Of course, Doll” He smiled, kicking the door shut on his way over to you, you turned so that your back was to him. You felt him gently move your hair aside, he swiftly zipped your dress up for you, something you didn’t expect wad him placing a gentle kiss on your shoulder, making you smile and blush slightly. “You look beautiful” He told you, resting his chin on your shoulder, his hands finding you waist.

“You don’t look too bad yourself” You admitted, turning around to face him, his hands back on your hips and your hands now resting on his chest. “Are you okay?” You asked, he knew exactly what you were referring to.

“I’m okay, I was more worried about you” He admitted.

“Me?” You asked.

“Yeah, you looked frightened when that man put his hand on you, something snapped in me seeing you like that…I didn’t like having to see another man touch you” He said, looking straight into your eyes now.

“I didn’t like having another man touch me” You admitted. He smiled at you, moving his hands from your waist to cup your cheeks.

“I was waiting until I was free, until I could fully trust myself and I know that this is probably way overdue by a few years but…y/n, can I kiss you?” He asked, already leaning in slightly, his nose brushing against yours.

“Of course, you can Bucky” He smiled at your response and brought your lips to meet his. The kiss was full of all the unspoken love between the two of you, the longing for each other all these years and just pure passion. Bucky pulled away and rested his forehead on yours, hands still cupping your now warm cheeks.

“No one touches my girl” He whispered, making you smile, knowing that you were now his and he was yours.

“I’m all yours” You smiled before pulling him down by his blazer and kissing him again.

[holylulusworld]

White wolf & his omega

Summary: On an endless mission to take out people for Hydra the assets scent’s you, the one thing he never thought he’ll be able to find – his true mate.

Pairing: Alpha!Bucky x Omega!Reader

Characters: Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, Sam Wilson, Natasha Romanoff, Clint Barton

Warnings: ABO, ABO dynamics, angst, scenting, comforting, protective alpha, fighting, violence, blood, bad use of Russian language, true mates, mentions of claiming, kidnapping

A/N: Final sequel to: White Wolf - Part 1 & Her White Wolf - Part 2

Wrapped in your alpha’s arms, sleeping peacefully you mumble his name in your sleep. Bucky is still wide awake, not due to nightmares or the guilt he still feels but to look at you. He’s calmer close to you, especially when he can look at the claiming mark he left during your first heat together.

He was still afraid the asset, the dark man inside his head, will show when he gives in to his primal instinct, but you had faith in him, your alpha.

Bucky nuzzles your neck, purring low when you whimper his name, moving closer to his warm body. Winter came fast and you are not used to cold, ice, and snow. You only lived in warm places so far which means experiencing a winter with frost and snow is new to you.

“Cold,” you scoot closer to Bucky, hiding your face in his chest whilst you press your body as close as possible to your mates.

“It’s warm, doll. You’re such a cute little frostbite,” Bucky smirks, watching you narrow your eyes at your mate. “Let me warm you up, Y/N.”

“You should sleep too, alpha. I know you got up to add more wood to the fire and that you cut more wood in the middle of the night,” you wrap your arms around Bucky, nuzzling your cheek into his chest. “I love you for caring about me, but I care about you too.”

“I promise to sleep when you hold me like this a bit longer,” you inhale the warm and calming scent of your mate before you close your eyes, holding the alpha in your arms. “Love you too, Y/N.”

“No, it’s cold outside, Bucky,” you whine, not wanting to leave the cozy house you call your home for almost eight months. “Let’s stay inside and forget about food, please.”

“Doll, we need to get more supplies and boots for you, my cute omega. You can stay here, and I’ll drive to town to get all we will need,” Bucky watches you scrunch up your nose before you shake your head. Since your alpha claimed you six months ago you are glued to his side.

“I don’t want you to go alone. Last time you needed three hours and I was so worried,” you grasp your boots and coat. “I’ll come with you, alpha. Just a minute, I need to get my scarf and hand gloves.”

“I’ll wait at the truck for you, doll. Do not worry, Y/N. I will not leave without you,” Bucky laughs when you run upstairs to get your scarf and hand gloves.

“We’ve got ladies toiletries for my doll, new razor blades for me to shave,” Bucky crosses all the things he found off his list. “Shampoo, toilet paper, shower gel, and a new loofah for my girl.”

You nod, leaning into Bucky’s embrace when he wraps one arm around your waist. “Got you a new base cap too, alpha. One in black and a blue one.”

“That makes two, Y/N,” you nod, pointing toward the shelf with sweets. “Sweets, got it, Y/N.”

“We got canned food, potatoes, and my magazines too. You said something about beer and water.” Bucky smirks, pointing toward the shopping cart. “My alpha already got it.”

“I did, doll. Now let’s check the list before we pay,” looking at the list you hum with every article Bucky crosses out. “We forgot your body lotion and socks. My girl needs warm socks.”

“I’ll get the body lotion, you will grab the socks,” pecking your lips Bucky hums, not wanting to admit he hates to let you out of sight.

“Body lotion, uh-after shave lotion for my alpha, cherry lipgloss and a soft flannel for Bucky and me,” looking at the things in your arms you hear a snarl behind you. A younger alpha looks at you, a dirty grin on his lips.

“What brings you out here, sweetie?” He purrs but you take a step backward, not caring he wants to talk to you. “Don’t be shy.”

“I’m claimed and my alpha is with me,” you try to spare the young alpha’s life, knowing Bucky could kill him if he tries anything. “If you excuse me now, I got to go back to my boyfriend.”

“You did not answer my question, bitch.” The slap the man gives you hits you by surprise, causing you to stumble and fall onto your butt. A grin on his lips the alpha steps closer, towering over your shaking form and you do what your instinct tells you – screaming for your alpha.

“Omega,” it’s a matter of seconds before Bucky is by your side to help you up. He’s shoving you behind his back, giving the smaller boy a warning snarl. “Get out of my sight and away from my omega, boy.”

The soldier would’ve just killed the boy but Bucky, he tries to spare an inexperienced alpha’s life. The problem is – that boy ain’t smart.

“Why don’t you go for tea, gramps. I bet,” the alpha dips his head to look at you behind Bucky’s back, “your omega prefers a younger alpha.”

“Stupid,” the clerk shakes his head, offering to bring you away from your alpha but a deep growl leaves Bucky’s lips, and the kind beta steps away, nodding at your alpha.

The boy still doesn’t get he’s in trouble, even dares to step toward you until he finds himself pressed against the wall, Bucky’s metal fist around his throat.

“I warned you. That’s my omega, my girlfriend. Did your parents do not teach you manners?” Now the boy sniffs, choking on the word ‘sorry’. “I should kill you; rip you apart limb by limb.”

“Alpha,” your soft voice calms Bucky, holds back the anger threatening to let your alpha lash out. “Let’s pay for our things and drive home. It’s getting late and cold,” you place one hand onto Bucky’s arm, hoping he will let go of the boy.

“You’re right, doll,” Bucky drops the now whining alpha to the ground, turning his attention back toward you. “We should head out before it’s too dark to drive back.”

“So much snow,” you watch the snowflakes fall outside the window, looking at every flake with curiosity. “I never thought snow would be that pretty…”

“…and cold,” pecking your neck Bucky snickers when you punch his chest playfully. “I mean it, Y/N. Snow is cold, wet, and will let your tiny toes fall off.”

“You’re awful, Bucky,” you grin when he hands you a pair of fuzzy socks, the ones he bought for you. “I’m sorry that I screamed for you. That guy, he scared me. I…I saw a flashbacks of the men at the room you brought me to that day.”

“Never apologize for seeking my protection, ‘mega,” Bucky nuzzles his face into your neck, smiling as you wrap your arms around him. “I will always protect you.

“I know, I just don’t want…” a loud knock disturbs your intimate moment with your alpha. “Who could come here at that time of the day? No one knows we live up here.”

“Stay in the living room, take the phone from my jacket and if anything happens, call Steve. Simply press the buttons I showed you,” your heart starts to race at Bucky’s words. “Don’t be scared.”

Bucky turns to walk toward the door while you do as he said. Hiding in the living room, you press the phone to your heart.

Scared something could happen to your alpha you glance out of the window to see four cops surround your alpha.

You can hear his gruff voice, he seems to argue with the eldest cop before he shoots Bucky thrice. Gasping you dial Steve’s number, praying he will come in time to help his friend.

“Steve, we need your help. Here are  cops, but they do not act like cops. I’m scared. Bucky told me to call you if anything happens, please…” You sniffle when Steve tells you to hide somewhere safe. “I can’t, Steve. I need to see who they are.”

“Y/N?” Steve storms into the cabin, gasping as the whole house looks like a battleground. “Sam, Nat, look upstairs. Tony, Clint, I need your help downstairs.”

“Does your friend still wear his arm?” Tony smirks, getting his phone out. “If he does we can trace him. Let’s say I let someone put a nice little transponder at his shiny shoulder.”

“I don’t know if I shall punch or kiss you, Tony,” laughing Sam looks at Tony who seems to consider Steve’s offer. “We need to find Y/N first. The last thing she said was that they dragged Bucky away after one of them shoot him.”

“Is there a chance she’s still around? Maybe Y/N hides somewhere?” Natasha looks around the house, shaking her head. “We shouldn’t have left them on their own, Steve.”

“Do you think I don’t know that? I wanted normal for him and her. I had hoped we can keep Bucky and his omega out of this world for a while,” Steve sighs, listening to an odd noise coming from the kitchen.

“Kitchen, Capsicle. Go left, I’ll take the right side,” Tony silently walks into the kitchen, nodding at Steve who tries to find the source of the noise. “Sound like a wail or sob, Steve.”

“Shit,” Steve nods before he opens the supply cabinet to find you curled inside the cramped space. “Y/N, it’s good to see you.”

Whilst Steve helps you out of the cabinet, running one hand soothingly down your back Tony nods at his friend, pointing toward his phone.

“A house in town, Steve?” Confused Steve looks at you not understanding why the police should bring Bucky to a house in town. “Don’t get me wrong, I am glad it’s not Hydra, Rumlow, or the big bad guy hiding in the dark but, I would like to know what’s going on.”

“Y/N, did something happen? Is there a reason for them to take Bucky?” You nod, recalling what happened at the store. “Tell me everything.”

“We drove to town for supplies. Bucky was busy getting warm socks and I wanted to get the rest from the list. There was a young alpha, he scared me. I fell and Bucky wanted that guy to leave me alone, but the boy wasn’t smart. Bucky had his metal hand around his throat, but I calmed him, and we left,” you are shaking now, looking up at Steve. “Do you think that’s the reason they shot Bucky?”

“That’s fishy, Steve. If the fight was the reason to come here, why the destruction and violence. You said Bucky only talked to the men, right?” Nodding you look at Sam, feeling fresh tears well up to your eyes.

“We will find out soon enough. I suggest Steve, Tony and you go to town. Y/N and I will pack the most important things. Clint can check the surroundings and make sure no one sneaks toward the cabin to attack us unprepared,” Natasha holds out her hand, giving you a warm smile. “Steve got this, Y/N. He will bring your alpha back, promised.”

“Tell me where the money is, bastard,” the man barks, punching Bucky’s face but the alpha remains stoic, unmoving. “The money!”

“I know they have a lot of it. Look at the car that bastard drives and the girl he has. No one would live out here in such an expensive house, driving such a car without money.” The boy from the store grins, lying through his teeth.

“Money?” Bucky spats blood onto the floor. He’s twisting his metal fist in the handcuffs, hearing the familiar crack of breaking metal. “Or is it the fact you tried to touch my omega and I had to push you a little,” the boy turns pale, looking scared at the men kidnapping your alpha.

“Omega? This is about some pussy, boy?” The eldest man barks, slapping the back of his sons head. “You said we can make fast money. Hell, I stole a police car and their uniforms from my laundry.”

“They have money, the omega is just a bonus, for me,” before the men can react Bucky rips the handcuffs apart, using the chair he was handcuffed to moments ago to knock the eldest man out.

“No…this can’t…” Bucky smirks when the boy finally realizes whose omega he dared to threaten. “The…the winter soldier?”

“James Buchanan Barnes, to be correct. But my friend prefers Bucky,” Steve bursts through the door, followed by Sam and Tony. “I guess you have this under control, Buck?”

“Is Y/N safe?” Worried Bucky looks at his friend, praying you were able to hide until Steve arrived.

“She’s safe with Natasha and Clint,” Tony answers your alpha’s question. “How about we give you ten and wait outside?” Bucky dips his head, glancing at the three remaining men.

“Give me five…”

“Alpha!” Wrapping your arms around Bucky you sniffle into his chest. “I was so worried about you. I thought it’s Hydra,” you cry now, looking up at your alpha.

“I guess the cat is out,” Tony looks around the cabin, sighing deeply. “That boy, he recognized the winter soldier. We got to get the hell out of here.”

“We have to leave,” Bucky whispers, lifting your chin with his index finger. “It’s not safe here any longer, doll. I promise to protect you.”

“They shoot you,” carefully touching Bucky’s chest you sniffle. “Are you hurt?”

“It was a sedative dart. I think they used three until I felt dizzy. I’m sorry, I got careless, omega. This will never happen again,” Steve clears his throat, pointing at Clint who carries your bags toward one of the cars.

“We will bring you to the headquarters and see where we go from here,” Bucky nods, thankful his friend kept you safe.

“I don’t care where we live as long as I can stay by your side, white wolf,” you peck Bucky’s lips, sighing when he returns the kiss.

“Guys, I’m glad the white wolf found his omega, but we need to get out of here, like yesterday,” Tony insists, smirking when Bucky growls at him.

“We should go, alpha,” holding out your hand you lead Bucky toward one of the cars. “I packed all our things, including the fuzzy socks…”

“My girl needs her fuzzy socks,” you nod, letting your alpha wrap one arm around your shoulder. “I only need my omega, doll.”

“…and I only need you, Bucky…”

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[furtheradvofsanta]

Santa Letter 2020

Every year, Santa Claus writes a letter to my nephew, and somehow every year I manage to find a copy. If you’ve been wondering what Santa and crew have been up to in quarantine, well, here you go. Bonus: Jack Frost and Frosty the Snowman go hunting for a yeti.

Santa’s Workshop

Beyond the Riphean Mountains

Beyond the North Wind

True North Pole

December 21, 2020

My dearest [name],

What a strange year this has been. I hope you and your family are doing well, or as well as possible at least. I don’t know how much you remember your five Christmases before this one, but they weren’t much like this sixth one, and I hope the seventh and beyond won’t be much like this one either! At least this year I am definitely writing to you from home and not the Moon, where the mail takes so long to travel from (and where I guess they print in blue ink!), but I’ve been at home so long now, I honestly wouldn’t mind a quick little hop to the Moon, or anywhere, if I were allowed.

But before I tell you about what things have been like here at the North Pole as we have all been stuck at home, let me tell you about what happened at the beginning of the year, which I think will amuse you. You see, our good friend Jack Frost came to visit us after we had finished our rounds for Christmas. Along with him came his brother, whose name I have not mentioned before, because his name is in Russian, and is something of a big name for little eyes: МОРОЗКО. Some of those letters may not even look like letters to you, but I promise you, in Russian, they are. It means something like “Little Frost,” and he got the name from his grandfather, Grandfather Frost, so I suppose I will call him “Frostie,” which some have been known to call him.

When Jack and Frostie arrived at the workshop after the Christmas rush, it was obvious that Frostie was upset. Angry, even. This is fairly unusual for him, as he is usually the cooler head that prevails over Jack’s flights of fancy. Another thing you need to know about Frostie is that, well, he doesn’t have a body. Because of an accident that happened many years ago, he’s more like a ghost who lives in a hat. But whenever that hat is placed on something--a mannequin or doll, for instance--that thing comes alive with Frostie’s spirit. Because of his family’s power over the winter frost, the most common thing he uses for a body is a snowman. In fact, he’s pretty famous for his adventures that way.

One of his best-known adventures happened many years ago in the small town of Armonk, New York, where he played with the children there and raised Christmas spirits considerably. You might have heard about it. The people of that town celebrate this adventure every year with a parade in which Frostie is the guest of honor. Despite generally being a pretty modest young man, Frostie does love this parade and he attends every year. In most ways, 2019 was no different. But then something chanced to catch his eye.

As the parade was processing down Main Street toward the village square, Frostie happened to look over at a local storefront that was decorated for Christmas. What he saw was a snowy mountain scene populated by dolls fashioned to look like strange figures: mostly human-shaped but very large, with long white hair covering most of their bodies and only bits of blue skin peeking out at their faces, hands, and very large feet. You might have heard of the creatures depicted in this scene. In the snowy Himalayas, they call them the Migoi or the Mirka, but most people there and elsewhere call them the yeti. In English, the yeti is often called the Abominable Snowman, and an old friend of mine used to call them bumbles because he couldn’t say “abominable” very well.

America has its own fair share of large, hairy, human-like ape creatures that stalk through their woods. The most famous of these of course is the sasquatch, also known as Bigfoot, who lives in the Northwest states like Washington and Oregon, down into Northern California, but there’s also the Fouke Monster in Arkansas, the Skunk Ape in Florida, the Hillbilly Beast in Kentucky, and several others. The yeti is related to this, but lives way over in Asia, high in the Himalayas, the highest mountains in the world.

The yeti looks like a large ape that walks on two legs, almost eight feet tall, with long arms, a powerfully strong body, and a head with a flat nose, all covered in long red or black hair. While they often appear white, this is usually because their naturally dark fur is covered with snow and ice. They are clever hunters and can turn their feet around backwards so that their footprints look like they’re going the opposite direction, just to fool anyone trying to follow them. Their main hunting weapon is a magic rock that they carry under their left arm which always hits and stuns its target--which is usually a yak or a goat, unless a person is really unlucky. They normally live alone, but they talk to each other by making a whistling sound. Plus they smell really bad.

After the parade was over, Frostie decided to see if he could find any more Christmas yetis, so he let his hat take to the wind, and he flew all over the place. The more Frostie looked around, the more decorations he saw of these Abominable Snowmen. He saw ornaments, stuffed animals, dolls, tree toppers, and inflatables in people’s front yards. They were everywhere. And Frostie didn’t like it.

Do you know what the word “abominable” means? It’s not a very nice word. It means something so bad, so mean, so disgusting, that everyone who sees it immediately hates it. Frostie, who was often a snowman himself, didn’t want that to be the word everyone thought of when they thought of snowmen at Christmas. As he himself is a jolly, happy soul (usually), those are the kinds of words he would want to be used to describe snowmen.

(His brother Jack, of course, suggested that the real reason that Frostie was so upset is that he had become used to being the most famous snowman of all, and he didn’t like his spotlight being stolen. This, I think, was Jack teasing his brother, but who knows? There could be some truth to it.)

And so it was that when Jack and Frostie came to visit us after Christmas, Frostie let us know of his plan: he was going to go to the Himalayas, catch a yeti, and tell them to go back up into their mountain caves and leave Christmas to less abominable people! He wasn’t going to go alone, of course. Jack considers himself a big-time adventurer and thought catching one of the scariest monsters in the world would be a real feather in his cap. (Though knowing Jack as I do, I knew he would tell stories of bravely catching an abominable snowman even if he never saw one.) What’s more, the two brothers would be joined by their cousin, the Snow Maiden, whose duties for Grandfather Frost (the grandfather of Jack, Frostie, and the Snow Maiden who lives in a snowy estate in the forests of Russia) she had completed after the New Year, which is when Russian children get presents.

Frostie thought it would be a good family outing for the three cousins to travel together, since the two brothers are normally roaming the world and the Snow Maiden spends most of her time with Grandfather Frost. I think the Snow Maiden was more interested in the travels with her family than any chance of seeing (or smelling) a yeti. And, as I said, Jack was more interested in being able to boast about hunting a great monster than in saving the good name of snowmen everywhere.

But Frostie was still glad to have them along. Each one of them has a good amount of snow and ice magic on their own, but together the three of them should have been unstoppable, even in the face of giant hairy ape-men. As they were preparing for their trip, Jack even started singing a song that he made up (or so he says) about their expedition. I don’t remember all the words, but I do remember him singing this part over and over at the top of his lungs, until the words echoed through the reindeer stalls and frightened all the calves:

“Well, it’s cheer up, my lads!

Keep your hearts ever steady!

For the bonny brave Frost cousins

Go a-hunting for the yeti!”

And before we knew it, they were off. As quick as a wink, Jack and the Snow Maiden had whisked themselves up into invisible snowy winds and carried Frostie’s hat off with them. Fortunately, the same Christmas magic that lets me know when children are in danger or when they’re up to coal-worthy antics would warn me if anything went wrong for them on their trip that required a quick reindeer rescue. Frostie had told me not to worry, as he had once saved a city in Maryland from monsters that were a lot like yetis except much, much bigger. In that case, a local doctor had simply built a very, very large snowman body for Frostie to inhabit, which made scaring off the frost giants much easier. He said that if things got too scary, Jack could easily make him a similar body. I guess it was better than no plan at all, but I hoped they wouldn’t have to count on a giant snowman saving them.

As it turns out, they didn’t have to build a giant snowman. But that’s not to say there wasn’t any danger. In fact, only a few days after the Frost cousins had left for the mountains of Tibet, I had a dream in which I could see what they were up to. After failing to find a snowbeast for some time, the three cousins decided to find a place to rest. What they found was an old abandoned mill where the local people used to grind barley into flour. Since it was obvious no one had been there in a long time, the three built a fire and settled in to sleep.

In the darkest, quietest time of the night, they were all suddenly woken up by the sound of the mill door slamming shut! When they opened their eyes, they saw the giant, shaggy form of an angry yeti standing over them! “This is my hideout!” he growled in an angry voice. “What are you doing here? I’m going to eat you up!”

The three cousins were scared and didn’t know what to do. They had great power among them, but this yeti had caught them off-guard. There was no snow inside the mill for Frostie to use as a body, so the plan that had worked on the frost giants in Maryland wouldn’t work here. Jack decided to turn to his most powerful weapon: tall tales.

“It’s good that you’re here, Mister Yeti,” said Jack. “We’ve been looking all over for you. My brother and sister and I are all powerful frost giants from the land of Giants’ Home and we have taken on these puny human forms to come and see how this world’s snow and ice monsters are doing.” He stood up and walked around the yeti as if he were checking out a suit of clothes that he was considering buying. “You seem to be doing a very good job, very frightening. The stink is good, it reminds me of home. Your sweaty armpit rock is very intimidating as well. I’ll let the king of the giants know that he doesn’t have to worry about the ape-men of the Himalayas.”

Unfortunately, the yeti wasn’t buying Jack’s story any more than you might. He grabbed Jack by the back of his collar and lifted him up off the ground to look him straight in the eye. Jack did his best not to grimace when the sour milk smell of the yeti’s steamy breath puffed into his nostrils. “Show me,” said the yeti. “Show me that you are a giant. If you are so strong, you could crush me.” Jack couldn’t answer. “Why do you look so scared?”

So Frostie’s plan to make a big snowman hadn’t worked, and the yeti wasn’t convinced by Jack’s fibs. Fortunately there was still a third Frost cousin. The Snow Maiden cried out, just as the yeti was about to bop Jack one right on the head, “Wait! Mister Yeti, I know we have come into your hiding place and now you are going to eat us up. That is only fair. But I have one request. Where we come from, it is a custom before dying to cover our legs with oil before dying. That way we can run swiftly to Heaven. Will you allow us to do this?”

The yeti thought it over and decided he didn’t really care if his dinner tasted like oil or not, especially since he planned to gobble them up so fast that he wouldn’t even be able to taste anything. And so he agreed to let the cousins brush their legs with oil before he ate them up. But what he didn’t know was that the brush the Snow Maiden held up wasn’t a brush for rubbing oil on things: it was Jack’s magic paintbrush that he uses to paint frost crystals on windows and sparkling white icicles on tree branches.

The Snow Maiden ran the brush up and down her leg and said, “This is so wonderful. My legs feel like I could run anywhere, as fast as the wind. I could catch up to a yak without trying. I could leap from mountaintop to mountaintop.”

The yeti, who would have liked to be able to catch a yak without trying, grabbed the brush from the Snow Maiden’s hands. “Let me try that!” he growled. Soon he was rubbing the brush up and down his hideous hairy legs, just as he had seen the Snow Maiden do, all the way down to his furry, backwards feet. With each swipe of the brush, however, the yeti’s legs became more and more covered in ice thanks to the magic of the paintbrush. Before he even noticed what was happening, his legs were so frozen that he couldn’t move. Jack couldn’t believe the Snow Maiden, normally so polite, had pulled off a better trick than even he could think of, and with his own brush no less.

With the yeti frozen to the ground, the Frost cousins took their chance to escape. Jack, with one last flick of his brush, froze the yeti’s mouth closed so that he wouldn’t be able to whistle a warning to the others out there hiding among the mountain caves. The three Frosts disappeared into a flurry of snow, and that was the end of my dream. I did not dream about them again for a long time, so I figured that meant they were safe.

Meanwhile, it turns out that it was everywhere else that wasn’t safe! Suddenly, everywhere all over the world people were getting sick, and the only way to stay healthy was to stay inside or wear a mask if you had to go out. That was true everywhere, even here at the North Pole. You may have heard on TV that I can’t catch this sickness, which is true--I wouldn’t be able to deliver presents this year otherwise--but that’s not true for everyone who lives up here at the North Pole. And so we had to make sure everyone was safe.

My main apprentice, Pete, was very helpful in making sure that his brothers all washed their hands several times a day while singing the song “Saint Nicholas, Little Rascal” (a very popular song in the Netherlands) twice to make sure they were all the way clean. The animals couldn’t get sick, so Rupert didn’t have much to do besides his normal job, though he did make sure the werewolf in our stables always kept a mask over his snout. The elves in the workshop made special breathing devices that filtered out any sickness from the air. I told them they didn’t have to work and that I would make all the toys this year, but they said that toymakers are essential workers, and I couldn’t disagree. We can’t disappoint the children. This year has been bad enough.

The Krampus assured me that the beasts huddled up in our outbuilding of furry friends were enough like animals that they wouldn’t get sick any more than the reindeer would. That was good, because I couldn’t imagine trying to convince that big pile of monsters that they should stay six feet away from each other.

Once we had made sure that everyone at the workshop was being careful and staying home, it was up to Mrs. Claus to make sure that everyone out in the village in the forest was being safe. Mrs. Claus and her two closest helpers, Holly and Ivy, who are both tree spirits like Mrs. Claus, went out into the thick forest of fir trees that surround the North Pole workshop. First they told all the other tree spirits that it would be best to just stay in their trees this year unless absolutely necessary.

Then they turned to the Mushroom People who make their homes underneath the fir trees, with their little red caps with white spots. They had come to live in our forest after being driven out of their homes by the Penny Bun Mushrooms in the War of the Mushrooms. They found it most comfortable to live under the shade of silver fir trees, and since we have more of those than anywhere else in the world, they live with us. When Mrs. Claus told them about how everyone was getting sick, they said they weren’t worried because their people were blessed with good luck, but that they would still stay inside anyway to help everyone else.

Then Mrs. Claus, Holly, and Ivy checked with the Moss People, the Mossmen and Mosswomen, who live with us to hide away from the wild hunters who try to catch them every year. The Moss People were all fine, tucked away inside their hollow log homes. Next, Mrs. Claus and her helpers checked with the timid Pinecone People, who can normally be found climbing over the rooftops during the Twelve Days of Christmas, and made them promise to stay home and not climb on any rooftops at all.

Holly and Ivy then ranged out deeper into the fir forest in an attempt to find Belsnickel, the woodsman of the North Pole, who keeps to himself at the best of times. They looked and looked and couldn’t find him, so we feel pretty confident that he’s keeping away from other people, which is pretty normal for him anyway. Don’t worry about him being lonely, though, as I’m sure he has no shortage of snowshoe hares, Arctic foxes, puffins, and snow buntings to keep him company.

I myself went to talk to the Valkyries, the warrior women who watch over the northern sky and whose armor twinkles in the distant light of the sun, creating what most people call the Northern Lights. I talked to their leader, whose name is Mist, as she hovered in the night sky above the Earth. Normally, the job of Valkyries is to select the bravest warriors from any battle who might be worthy to join the Hall of Heroes who spend their days training to fight a giant wolf who they know will one day try to eat the world. (Don’t worry, that wolf is chained up with the strongest chains ever built. They were made by the relatives of our workshop elves, so I know they’re of good quality and should last a long time.) Mist told me that because so many people were staying home this year, there were no battles for them to watch over. That meant they could stay home in the skies above the North Pole.

I went next to talk to the Great North Polar Bear, Callisto, and her son, Arcas. As they are bears, I knew they wouldn’t need to worry about a human sickness. I still wanted to check on them and make sure they were okay, because I didn’t want them to be lonely. I also asked them if they would do me the favor of keeping an eye on the entrance to the Star Land. You remember that Callisto and Arcas live up among the stars above the Pole to be a sign to the people so they can always find which way is north. Because they live in the stars, they are neighbors to the Star People of Star Land. I was not particularly worried that the Star Man or the Little Star would wander out of the Star Land and into the human world and get sick, but I knew that some of the little ones, the Star Boys and little angels who romp and play all over that starry land, might not be old enough to understand that they can’t play with or sing for little human girls and boys this year. Callisto promised that she would look out for any stray cherubs dancing down the light beams towards the Earth. I thanked her by promising her we would save her and Arcas an extra big portion of their favorite soda when they visited next.

Meanwhile, Mrs. Claus took one of the horses from the stables and rode out to the Riphean Mountains, which surround the North Pole and help keep unwanted visitors out. She rode to the court of King Lunicursor, the king of the griffins who live in the mountains, protecting their hoards of gold. Griffins, of course, are half eagle and half lion, so they can’t catch a human virus. We weren’t worried about the griffins, but rather about the one-eyed giants who also live in the Riphean Mountains and who are always trying to steal the griffins’ gold. Despite only having one eye and being larger and meaner than a normal human, we were worried that the Arimaspians, as they are called, would not care very much about their health or anyone else’s, and they might run down into human villages and spread sickness everywhere. They are definitely rude enough that they would never wear a mask or stay six feet away from someone, or even wash their hands or cover their mouths when they cough. Very rude.

Lunicursor, you will remember, is quite friendly with Mrs. Claus after the two of them flew to the Moon last year to stop the Mouse King with the legendary sword Crackatook. He was, of course, very happy to see Mrs. Claus, and he agreed to keep a close eye on the Arimaspians this year and try to keep them too busy to make war with their neighbors south of the mountains. Mrs. Claus and Lunicursor also agreed that the griffins’ job of flying across the world and finding homes for unwanted toys was more important than ever this year. This year has been lonely enough for some children. We want to make sure they get all the toys they can.

Beyond the peaks where the griffins guard their gold and the valleys were the Arimaspians pasture their horses lie the banks of the Eridanus River, the only river that leads up through the Riphean Mountains. Along its banks grow long rows of poplar trees that never stop weeping golden, sticky amber. The trees cry because they used to be human, the sisters of a young man who foolishly thought he could control the sun as if he were driving a sleigh. He was wrong, and he steered it too close to the Earth and burned a big part of it up, creating what we know now as the Sahara Desert. In the end, he lost control altogether, and his sisters were so sad after he fell from the sun and back to Earth that they turned into trees that have been crying ever since. 

Swimming in the waters of the Eridanus are huge flocks of swans. Most of them used to be human; in fact, they were the people who lived at the North Pole before we did, when it was still spring all the time, before the cold came. When the people of the North Pole became old, they would dive into the waters of the Eridanus, and its magic turned them into swans. Also among them are many Swan Maidens, who can change between human form and swan form, but who are not originally from the North Pole. They are watched over by their brother, the Swan Knight, who rides a boat pulled by his sisters in their swan forms. I’ll have to tell you more about them another time.

Anyway, Mrs. Claus rode down from the mountains, sneaking through the valleys of the Arimaspians, and to the banks of the river. There she talked to the Swan Maidens and the Swan Knight and made them promise to stay along the banks of the river, or if they had to visit the human world, that they would stay in their swan forms. The Swan Maidens all promised to obey Mrs. Claus, and I hope they were being honest. Many of the Swan Maidens used to be princesses and are not used to doing what other people say, even when it’s for their own good.

Beyond the banks of the Eridanus lies a snowy land that has been cursed to eternal winter where only horrible creatures like the Awgwas live, so there isn’t much good we could do there. The Awgwas are even ruder than the Arimaspians, and besides, they can turn invisible, so it’s not likely we’d find them if we wanted to. Once you get beyond that, you’ll find the Islands of Amber and the Island of Tin and Furthest Thule and other places that are well outside the influence of the North Pole. Hopefully those people will make good decisions for themselves.

And so you can see, from the Pole to the Workshop to the stables to the Krampus shelters to the village to the fir forest to the Northern Lights to the Star Land to the Riphean Mountains to the Riphean valleys to the banks of the Eridanus, we have done our best to keep everyone safe and inside this year. It has been a hard and lonely year, but we have done our best. We tried to focus on our work and making toys and getting ready for Christmas, but sometimes it can be hard to pay attention to work, and that’s okay too.

The good news is this: after many months of staying home and making sure all the creatures of the North Pole were doing the same, I finally had another dream about the Frost cousins. The three of them were standing on an icy peak near Mount Everest, the tallest mountain in the world, hoping from that high point they could spy a yeti. Of course, the wind and snow made it very hard to see anything, let alone a sneaky beast whose fur was crusted white with frost against blankets of snow. And while their attention was focused on what was down the mountain, they weren’t thinking about what was coming behind them!

Yes, it was a yeti! This one was even taller than the one who had tried to gobble them up at the mill. Fortunately they heard his large, backwards feet cracking through the snow behind them. When they whipped their heads around to see what had made the noise, they saw a yeti very different from the one they had encountered before. This one was not crusted over with snow, but rather his long, black fur appeared to be neatly combed. The look on his face was peaceful and welcoming, rather than snarling and hungry. And perhaps most strangely of all, he was wearing clothes! Even though they were ragged from age and use, the Frost cousins could tell that the yeti was wearing monk’s robes. With his magic rock tucked under his left arm, this unusual creature was dragging a large portion of meat behind him with his right arm.

Rather than threatening to eat the Frost cousins up, he asked if they would like to get out of the cold and join him for a meal. The way he asked was so polite, even sassy Jack didn’t bother pointing out that the Frost cousins never got cold. Instead, the polite Snow Maiden agreed that they would follow him. Frostie was nervous about following a yeti to his home, but he knew this was perhaps his best shot at telling an abominable snowman to leave Christmas to the jolly, happy snowmen.

This yeti, it turned out, lived in a small house near the peak of Everest. For many years he had lived there with a monk--a human monk--who was his friend, and who had taught the yeti how to be a monk himself. It turns out that many, many years ago, the monk had been keeping watch over the world one night, silently praying for good things for the people and animals of the world below him. In the winter moonlight, a yeti--this yeti, the one telling the story--tried to sneak up on him to gobble him up, as the yeti at the mill had tried to do to the Frost cousins.

Instead, the monk turned around and showed the yeti his peaceful, smiling face. The monk’s attitude was so loving and calm that the yeti forgot that he had meant to make a meal of him. With gentle words and loving gestures, the monk invited the yeti into his humble home, the very cabin where the yeti and the three cousins now sat. The yeti was a welcome guest here at the home of the monk. He had never felt so happy and accepted in his life, and soon he wondered why he had ever tried to hurt anyone.

The monk treated the yeti as if he were his brother--because, the monk said, all those who walk the Earth are his siblings--and as if he had lived in his home for years. The monk’s words were like seeds that he planted in the yeti’s heart, and those kind and gentle words blossomed into peace and love within the yeti. Soon the yeti would help the monk by getting food and firewood for the two of them, and the monk taught him his way of life. Although the monk had grown old and died many years ago, the yeti lived on, continuing to live in the style of peace and kindness the monk had taught him.

And that is how the Frost cousins had found him. The four joined together in happiness and warmth inside the monk’s cabin, enjoying the warm fire and the meal the yeti prepared for them. It was very good, in my opinion, that the cousins found someone so kind and helpful, because soon after they arrived in the yeti’s small house, the order went out that everyone needed to stay home or else get sick. That was, of course, back in the spring.

So Jack, Frostie, and the Snow Maiden have been living with the yeti monk for most of a year, eating yak for dinner and learning the ways of peace and kindness. My dream didn’t show me everything that has been going on with them for nine months, but I do know that now that he’s met this yeti, Frostie has changed his tune about yetis. He thinks that calling them abominable is very rude, and that while some of them are mean and cruel, others of them are more like adorable snowmen. And so he’s decided that it’s okay if some people decorate for Christmas while using yetis as long as they don’t forget to use regular snowmen, too. I think he’ll probably get his wish.

The extra good news is that a doctor just called me this week to tell me that they were making a medicine to help people fight the sickness that caused so much trouble this year. While they are still working on making enough for everyone to have some, they know how important Christmas is to so many people, so they wanted to make sure we got some at the North Pole so that we can make our rounds. As soon as it gets here, I’m going to fly the sleigh down to the Himalayas to find Jack, Frostie, and the Snow Maiden and take them back to Grandfather Frost in Russia so they can get ready to help him deliver gifts on New Year’s!

I will have to take my fastest reindeer, because we at the North Pole of course have our own work to do, and Christmas is coming soon! I will definitely be coming to see you, because I know you have been good this year, staying at home and wearing a mask when you go out! I wish there were more people who would follow your example, but there are a lot of names on the naughty list this year, I’m afraid, all because they are so angry about masks! Anyway, there’s plenty of coal to go around for people like that.

Have a merry Christmas, and here’s to a better year in 2021! Give my love to your mommy and daddy and all of your family. I will be there to visit soon! 

Your friend,

Santa Claus

[aragima]

hannibal questions! 🍖🔪

@nietzscheantrout @horrorlesbians and @hanniba1 wanted me to answer these hannibal questions and i wrote too much but oh well! thanks to all 3 of you ilu!!!

favorite episode and why: oh we’re just goin straight to the hard questions huh um OKAY so i think i can only do an ep a season - s1: SORBET SUPREMACY! you get to see the exact moment will looks at hannibal and thinks “.........shit. it’s him isn’t it. he’s The One. SHIT.” and that is so important to me - s2: this one is really hard maybe naka-choko? it’s so fucking gay and sexy. but tome-wan... but mizumono............ yeah idk - s3: torn between digestivo and the wrath of the lamb cuz they both hurt SOOO good much; i love will breaking up with hannibal and hannibal manipulating the situation so will can’t leave asldkjansk it’s so toxic we have to stan..... and for twotl i mean do i really have to give a reason every scene LIVES in my mind and it contains my favorite shot in the whole show:

that is LOVE baby! that is DESIRE! that is being ENTHRALLED!!!!

least favorite episode and why: i feel like they’re all so necessary that it’s kind of impossible to say but probably antipasto. i get sick of hannibal and bedelia’s shenanigans really quickly and as much as i hate to admit it... i miss will. i also think it was an extremely weak season opener and i blame it for getting the show canceled sjshshsgsg the resentment...

favorite side character: chiyoh or jimmy or actually wait— RANDALL TIER 🖤

if you could bring back one character who died, who would it be?: RANDALL FUCKING TIER. i want there to be a weird thing with him and hannibal and will going on. but also i love what his death did for will so idfk, other than him it’s gotta be beverly

dish prepared in the show that you would like to try eating/making: i was supposed to make hannibal’s osso bucco recipe like 3 weeks ago but it completely slipped my mind so i guess i’ll get on that my next grocery trip  

which side character would you kill off?: chilton just because for god’s sake just let the man DIE ALREADY poor guy <- i’m taking ava’s answer because YEAH

was there any scene that you didn’t like to look at?: nah. the skin ripping scenes at the beginning of either kaiseki or sakizuki (idk i don’t remember, i hardly watch s2a) are particularly brutal but i tough it out

biggest ship: i mean do i even have to say

why did you start watching hannibal?: my wife, who was my girlfriend at the time, and her dad were watching it as it was airing and i was like “oh cool hannibal lecter origin story” but due to inconsistent access to the episodes i would just watch it randomly and that is... not the way to watch hannibal. i gave up around the end of s2 but knew hannigram was It regardless. i decided to watch s3 for the first time earlier this year just to have finished it and was like HOLD UP and did an immediate rewatch that left me... well, how i am now

favorite hannibal fic if you’ve read any?:

oh boy. yall ready for this? all of these can be found on ao3 obviously (i’m so sorry this is so long but i guess i’ve been asked to put together a fic rec anyway)

as soft, as wide as air by blackknightsatellite, the ladders series by emungere, blackbird by emungere, consenting to dream series by emungere, taken for rubies by emungere, at first meeting by emungere, protect me from what i want by @alienfuckeronmain, god of the cold, cold wars by highermagic, the abyss smiled back by highermagic, pomegranate seeds by highermagic, absolute zero by highermagic, in the truly gruesome do we trust by sidnihoudini, TKO by sidnihoudini, oh dear by lunarwench, each according to its kind by chapparral_crown, a flood in our hearts by nanoochka, let me sinful be by darlingred, uncomplicated by stratumgermanitivum & youaremydesign, good bones by @damnslippyplanet​, like they do in babylon by @damnslippyplanet​, your obedient servant by kareliasweet, past our satellites by shotgunsinlace, only the tender meat by isagel, the shape of me will always be you by missdisoriental, a white-walled room by rodabonor, spleen et idéal by rodabonor, the paper doll series by rodabonor, a common point of interest by rodabonor [i do NOT like a/b/o stuff but if i did... it’s this fic], just thought you should know by earthsickwithoutyou, the sacrificial lamb by princesskay, transcendent suffering by itsbeautiful, not something polite by moistdrippings, leave your message after the tone by onewhositswithturtles, holes in the floor of the mind by feverdreamblood, crossing caina by feverdreamblood, the archipelago series by melusine10, but seas between us braid hae roar’d by kareliasweet

have you watched any of the hannibal films?: yeah all of them except manhunter! i grew up watching silence of the lambs because my mom loved it and i went thru a big edward norton phase as a teen so i’ve seen red dragon like 10 times

have you read the thomas harris books?: no and i’m not going to lmao #fakefan

favorite murder tableau: if we’re talking just hannibal’s- the judge. if we’re talking Murder Bad But Kinda Pretty like in general probably the mushroom people or the totem

favorite blood spill: will imagining hannibal while he beats randall to death or The Gutting of Will Graham

what’re some of your headcanons?: - will is good at shibari (backed up in canon: his fishing knots, the firefly man’s full body hishi karada harness) - hannibal rarely listens to modern, non-classical music but he’s a björk fan and he saw one of her chapel performances during the vespertine era and was Moved - will listens to classic rock (zeppelin, the doors, pink floyd) with some classic country (patsy, merle, johnny) and blues (billie, muddy, bessie) thrown in. he’s also a sucker for early/mid-90s college rock/alternative/grunge - will plays the piano (because of the piano in his living room) and the harmonica (because he’s country white trash); he’s kind of shit tho - hannibal fell for will somewhere between “my thoughts are often not tasty” and “you won’t like me when i’m psychoanalyzed” (love at first sight! at last sight! at ever and ever sight!!!) - will’s circumcised, hannibal isn’t 🤪 - hannibal’s a gemini!!!! adaptable, creative, intelligent, outgoing, impulsive, etc - will’s an aquarius!!!!! analytical, a loner, temperamental, unique, compassionate, etc - will’s mom was jewish go read my fic about it https://archiveofourown.org/works/26774326 - hannibal is an agender man (tbh i think of this as canon, it’s just unstated/undefined) - hannibal can speak russian, spanish, and a teensy bit of portuguese in addition to the other languages we know he speaks (lithuanian, english, french, italian, japanese) - will speaks limited amounts of french; he learned it as a kid in louisiana - ED TW will sometimes has a Difficult relationship with food due to food instability by the way of poverty as a kid and goes through periods where it’s hard to keep himself fed, but hannibal is so good for him in that way because he keeps him from going hungry 😓 (yes this is me projecting but also it makes SENSE) - hannibal typically bottoms but THEY DEFINITELY ARE BOTH VERS and will never stops being surprised by how much he loves catching a dick. every time is like religious experience. okay? okay - they’re also both very kinky and switches but tbh.... will was made to Dom hannibal like that’s the reason he exists he could drag that old bitch around by a leash and hannibal would be in heaven HANNIBAL WOULD CALL HIM SIR - the first time they have sex hannibal comes like immediately but he isn’t embarrassed because he’s hannibal fucking lecter and hannibal lecter doesn’t get embarrassed - i have a hc for their favorite sex positions but i’m not gonna put that here because i don’t want yall calling me crazy any more than you probably already do but if you wanna know just DM me all i do is think about them fucking it’s a curse - okay no more dirty stuff abigail called hannibal “dad” on more than one occasion and it was half-joking but it also felt comfortable to her; she never thought to call will “dad” because he’s a weirdo and never knew her as much as he knew his idea of her - hannibal taught her to play piano at the cliff house - beverly is pansexual!!! - brian and jimmy kissed one time when they were drunk and they NEVER talk about it EVER - chiyoh is straight probably. i know, i know, everyone says she’s a lesbian and if she’s a lesbian to you that’s awesome! she’s a lesbian! but idk i just think she’s SO fucking straight and tbh i mourn bc that’s my wife. she could MAYBE be bicurious... - chiyoh is non-monogamous and doesn’t do serious relationships, she doesn’t like the idea of being tied to one person ever since she left the lecter castle - she helped hannibal and will escape after The Fall; she told hannibal she would continue to watch over him and i think she did, she got them a boat and got them the fuck out of there - MOLLY IS DOING SO MUCH BETTER WITHOUT WILL. SHE’S SO GLAD SHE GOT OUT OF THAT WHEN SHE DID. she has a good, long talk with alana and finds out all the shit about him and hannibal that will never told her (and it was a lot), gets drunk and burns all his shit, and then washes her hands of the whole thing; moves to a different state, gets a girlfriend, and never thinks about will again

okay i’m capping it there or i’m never gonna stop!! i’m not tagging anyone cuz i think everyone has done this by now lmao but if you’re a mutual who hasn’t and you want to just do it and say i tagged you!! mwah!!!!

[sunflowersteves]

The price of Freedom

Modern Mob!AU

1/11 Steve Rogers

Steve Rogers x fem!reader

Author: Cap-n-stuff

Chapter summary: You have been a weapon to the Russian Mafia for as long as you could remember. More recently, the Council killed your only remaining family. Can Steve Rogers, King of Brooklyn, help you escape? [Heavily based on John Wick]

Ба́ба-Яга́ means the boogyman (Technically it means ‘the witch’ and is about an old woman that steals and eats children but the story for the boogyman is the same just male).

Song for Chapter: Mona Lisa by Nat King Cole

Word Count: 1588

Author’s Note: I’m going to dedicate a song to each chapter because I wanna :) I really enjoyed writing this and I’m so excited for the chapters to come! I’ve really mapped this series out and I’m so excited. 

Warnings: angst, some fluff, swearing, mentions of murder and illegal activities, character death mentions of violence and blood

Main Masterlist // Series Masterlist // Chapter 2

*flashback in bold 

You slam the door of the cab and it skids off as you take in the towering red-bricked buildings. You hadn’t been in downtown Brooklyn for quite some time now. Thinking about it, the last good memory you had was when Steve took you to see the Brooklyn Cyclones. You were both younger beginners in the mob at the time, nowhere near the hardened mobsters you’ve become. Now, Steve had taken his father’s place to became the King of Brooklyn while you became the Ба́ба-Яга́ that struck fear into the hearts of all mobs others around the world. 

You walk up into Steve’s building and strut inside. Immediately, three men grabbed you and without a fight you let them take you to Steve. You knew this was just a precaution for them considering your history with showing up at people’s buildings. Last time, you took down the entirety of one of the five families of the Italian mob, Gambino, with just one pencil by the Russian mob’s desire. To say you were feared by many was sincerely an understatement.

They plopped you down in a nice office. It had marble floors, gold fixtures, and an expensive Dalbergia wooden desk with a cigar burning away on top of a glass of whiskey.

You grip yourself onto the chair, a scowl prominent on your face. Steve came in and sat down in his office chair in front of you, picked up the cigar, and swirled the glass of whiskey in his hand. He had watched you get out of the cab and waltz into his building. He was surprised to see you here after so long. “To what do I owe this pleasure, Y/N?” 

For you, this was not an ideal situation. Asking for help practically made you want to vomit. You especially didn’t want to ask for help from him. What didn’t help was that years ago you two had a little fling but the Tarasov mob relocated you to Senegal to their mob and train because you ‘shouldn’t have distractions.’

The worst part was the fact that you didn’t tell him. You just left.

You sigh and made yourself relax. If you want his help, you’re going to have to look vulnerable, and you’re going to have to look desperate, which in a sense you are. But in this world? Asking for help isn’t free.

His eyebrows furrowed at your demeanor. “I need your help, Steve.” His response was immediate and gruff. “No.” You shook your head, honest tears pricking your eyes. “Steve.” You say softly. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “At least hear me out.” He nonetheless nodded and he waved his henchmen out of the room. They obeyed and strutted out of the office.

You two sat in silence for a couple of minutes. Steve was contemplating his options. He could simply kick you out and never see you again. The last time he saw you, was ten years ago when you told him to meet you at Donna’s near the Williamsburg bridge. What was absolutely hilarious to him was that he was going to ask you to run away together but you never showed. So throwing you out seemed like the most devious option but what he’s heard about the all mighty and ruthless Ба́ба-Яга́, something tells him that isn’t a good idea. Especially if you’re here begging for his help. So, his only option was to listen.

“Two days ago, the council killed my sister. I’m sure you’ve already heard that but Steve, I want out.” He raised an eyebrow, “Out? Out as in… Out out?” You nodded fiddling with your fingers and sigh, looking at the older features he so dashingly received. He had a full-on beard now and to say it was attractive was an understatement. 

“I don’t understand why the killing of Gamora-” “They killed Wanda too.” His face snapped towards yours in shock, the slight look of grief taking over his features. “I have no one now, Steve. I am utterly alone. With my sister and niece gone? I have no one now. As much as I want revenge on the Tarasov and the council, I don’t know how much it’s worth. What good of a legacy am I putting across for them if all I do is avenge their deaths and die? Gamora and Wanda always wanted me to leave and start a family.”

He put out the cigar and locked those striking blue eyes with yours. “Look, Y/N, I do really want to help you but… You’re asking for a lot.” You look at him and flatten your lips into a thin line. You really didn’t want to do this but you’re going to have to bring out that card.

“You owe me.” He immediately cringed at your words but his shoulders dropped in defeat. You did owe him. The Tarasov mob had a bounty out for any mobster in Manhattan to kill him for a reward of $1.4 million and you protected him. You flew from Arezzo after finishing some business, upon hearing the request of Steve’s head and you killed every single person that was in the vicinity of him. You never showed your face as you had a sniper rifle in the building next to his but he knew it was you. He just knew. You were a precise kill and nobody could handle a gun quite like you.

“Do this one thing then I’ll be gone forever. We’re even.” He nodded, finally agreeing. “If I’m going to help you, I need to know everything that went down that night.” You sighed, closing your eyes and swallowing thickly.

You had walked into the Continental Hotel, greeting John, the concierge, at the front desk. You beamed at him as he asked how you were doing. You replied and continued to chat together while you paid him in gold. John had always been a sweetheart towards you. Every time you stayed at the hotel, he would always sneak a bag of chocolates and set them in your room.

He gave you the room key that your sister was staying in with a wink and waved you off, greeting the next customer. You walked towards the elevator and pushed the button to the floor. You stepped inside and waited patiently for the elevator doors to close. You nodded at the other gentlemen standing in the elevator and he simply nodded back respectively. You mentally took note of his very large stature. You thought maybe he was the one known as Drax the Destroyer but you had other matters to worry about right now.

The elevator dinged and you quickly walked out of the elevator and to the door of the hotel room. You took out the key and successfully got in. Tonight you were pretty excited because the three of you were all finally together again so you could watch rom-com movies and eat the sweets that John had given you all.

Normally, Gamora wouldn’t ever dare to put Wanda in anything mob-related but because this was a violence free-zone and she had circumstances, the council and the owner of the hotel, Tony Stark, allowed Wanda to stay occasionally.

You shoved the room door closed and put your belongings and suitcase at the entrance. This hotel was quite the luxury one, so there were three bedrooms, an entrance way, and a living room. You turn to go inside the living room but all you could do was stop dead in your tracks. 

There Gamora was, fresh blood splashed onto the beige couch. You assessed her wounds as you ran over to her shaking her gently. She had three gunshot wounds. Two in her stomach and one in her chest. Your heart ached and raged with the death of your sister. You knew she was dead but you couldn’t help but try and wake her from eternal slumber “Gamora wh-” Then you paused, a box in the corner of your eye making you halt completely. You gulped. Slowly, you turned your head to see a white square cooler. You knew what was inside but you had to see for yourself. A sob rushed in on you as you saw Wanda’s severed head inside the cooler. 

You picked Gamora up, desperately trying to at least save one of them but it was no use. The more you tried to shake her awake, the more you knew she was truly gone.

Sobs crashed in on you, tears rolled down your cheeks. Who would do such a thing? Who would take your family just like that? Who would hurt an innocent child? 

Then you saw it, a card that was cold to the touch, you assumed it belong in the cooler but it had been in Gamora’s hand.

Next time, don’t break the rules, Gamora. -The Council.

You blinked rapidly, not even noticing the tears running down your face until Steve was right by your side, kneeling in front of you. His hands reached up and cup your wet cheeks. He softly took the pat of his thumb to wipe your tears. “I’m so sorry, doll.” Your eyes flicked towards his and you got the courage to smile. He hadn’t called you that since you were together. His cheeks turned a rosy pink and he cleared his throat while standing up to tower over you.

“Before we start, we have to visit Sam Wilson. He’ll give us all the weapons and some safe passage your freedom.”

Chapter 2

[mirkwoodshewolf]

Quarantine fun times and tickles; Joe Mazzello x reader

*Author’s note*

As many of us in the BoRhap fandom know from Joe’s recent video, I couldn’t help but make a fanfic inspired from that video that just makes me smile from ear to ear. In light of these dark times, esp. when states or countries are officially going on FULL lockdown isolation. But I hope in light of the events going on in the world, this fic gives you guys some fluffy feels. Just side note I DO NOT OWN any of the shows mentioned here, they belong to their owners and stations.

Taglist:

@psychosupernatural​

@plethora-of-things​

@waddles03​

@queendeakyy​

@geek-and-proud​

@simonedk​

@kairosfreddie​

@soy-guey​

@ixchel-9275​

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels​

__________________________________________________________

With this whole Corona quarantine putting everyone in isolation, I was thankful that my boyfriend of over 3 years Joe Mazzello was home again.  He was doing some film with my favorite childhood actress Ashley Tisdale (of course he wouldn’t tell me the name of the project, just something having to do with ducks and them up in a farm).  But now the project has been put on hold and now Joe and I were stuck at home just doing whatever.

I was currently sitting down in the living room watching the Ridiculousness weekend marathon that MTV is doing every weekend in order to keep everyone inside.  The show was one of my guilty pleasures cause it’s the only show on MTV I watch.  

Yeah they do some of the gross stuff like puking or farts, but they also do some really funny, epic or cute videos (and those are what I love).

I just saw a video of a man trying to leap up on a trashcan and he managed to successfully jump up on top of it and not fall through.  But when his friend tried to do the same trick, his feet went right through the lid and he as well as the trashcan fell over and he slammed his back right on the concrete.

“Ohh! Ow! He is not Elf material.”

“Too much weight.” Both Steelo and Channel said and I nodded in agreement.  

“Definitely too much weight. That guy was definitely not Elf material. Too much force on his knees when he did the jump.” It was then I heard the muffled shouts of my boyfriend coming up from our room.  “Oh dear, he’s at it again.”

I forced myself off the couch and walked up the stairs and as I got closer to the bedroom, I heard Joe’s voice proclaimed.

“CAN’T TELL THE DIFFERENCE CAN YAH?! I’ll just wear this to auditions. Perfect. THANKS FOR NOTHING!!!” I opened the door and I said.

“Have you finally cracked under the pressure of quarantine again Joey?”

“Baby no I’m making a Youtube video for my channel.” He answered.

“Oh shit I’m sorry.”

“Hey no swearing missy! This is a family show! Folks I’d like to introduce you to someone you know, my lovely lady (y/n). Yeah everybody there’s my gorgeous girl right there.” He turned his camera right at me and I shyly ducked my face into my hands and gave the camera a wave.

“Please tell me you aren’t live streaming right now.”

“Nah I’m just gonna upload it later on.” He set the camera back down and I sat down on the bed and said.

“What’s got you to upset this time? I could hear you screaming from downstairs.”

“Not intentionally mad. Just—tell me and be honest. Do I really look like this stuffed animal broccoli thing?” he held up the bigger sized stuffed broccoli with the smiley face. “Cause a fan said this reminds them of me in Bohemian Rhapsody. And I thought the whole purpose of being a stan was to be nice to them. This qualifies as unattractive.”

He held it up to his face so that I could see if there was a resemblance between the two.  I put on my thinking face and stroked my imaginary beard before I deducted.

“Wow…..they’re right I can hardly tell the difference.”

“R-Really? You too? My god you—see even my own girlfriend turned against me! THANK YOU!!” he cried out.  I shook my head at my silly man before he deeply exhaled and said. “You know what, you deserve a broccoli punch.”

“Oh no!”

“Oh yeah.” He said with a quick nod and had an evil look on his face.

“Joe I love you but I swear to god if you do this there will be no more texting Ben in the group chats for a month.”

“I normally would act all dramatic and plead and beg for you not to do that. But I feel too betrayed to succumb to that.” He grabbed the bigger sized broccoli and I quickly raced out of the room.

But Joe quickly intercepted me and threw me over his shoulder.  I shrieked and repeatedly punched his back.

“Joseph Francis Mazzello III you put me down this minute! Put me down or you will suffer the consequences!” he flipped me over onto the bed and got on top of me.  He grabbed both my wrists and held them up over my head before changing his grip from both hands to just one holding my wrists together.

Then with no warning or even a chance to have me take back my statement, Joe went ahead and gave me one of his infamous ‘broccoli punches’.

“Joe! JOE WAHAHAHAHIHEHEHT! NOOO!!!”

“Nope you must suffer a broccoli punch. Each accounting for your age.”

“WHAT!? YOU’LL DO THIS ALL DAY THEN!!! YOU COUNT SLOW!!!”

“Oh-ho another insult? Well then I’d say we double them then.”

“NOOOOO!! OKAY! OKAY! OKAY I’M SORRY! UNCLE! UNCLE!” He stopped and his face hovered over mine.

“You gonna surrender?”

“Yes.”

“And you take back what you said about me looking like that gross vegetable?”

“Can I just say one thing?”

“If it’s negative, you’re gonna get raspberries on your tummy for five straight minutes. No stopping.” I cupped his face and said.

“The only thing that’s similar between you guys, besides the top head of it when you had the floofy wig, is that both of you have this wide, dazzling, adorable smile.” He looked down at me with an unreadable expression.

But then a split second later, he leaned down and captured my lips with his.  I stroked his scruffy cheek and kissed him back with a little more passion.  I softly moaned as I moved my hand through his messy auburn hair.  His kisses then moved up and down the right side of my neck, getting around my sweet spot (cause I’m more sensitive on the right side of my neck than my left. And Joe LOVES to exploit that).

I felt his hand go under my shirt slowly sliding up as he continued to kiss up and down my neck.  I exhaled a moan and that’s when my attention was sent right to the camera that was still recording.

“Wait. Wait Joe, Joey, Joey!” I said snapping out of it trying to get him off of me.

“What?” he groaned impatiently.

“The camera’s still recording.” I said to him. He turned towards it and made one of those goofy surprise noises he sometimes makes as he quickly raced over towards it and shut it off.  I giggled in embarrassment. “Oh thank god you were not live streaming.”

“Yeah. But on one hand we could relive that moment forever and ever.”

“And on another note, you and I would be jobless.” I sassed him back.

“Good point. Plus I don’t want any perverts looking at your body. The only one allowed to do that is me.” I chuckled and rolled my eyes as him as I threw the smaller broccoli stuffy at him. “Rude much babe!”

“Then stop saying silly stuff!” I said.  “Other than that, let me see what else the fans have given you.”

“Oh well I know how much you like Russian nesting dolls, so I got this custom made Bohemian Rhapsody nesting doll.” He then showed me what a fan had made him.

“Oh my god.” We sat there on the bed and I held it in my hands. “Of course Rami being the main display, let’s see whose next.” I opened it up and there was Gwilym in his Oscar’s suit.

“You got your Gwilym, my buddy.”

“Yep one of your lovers.” I teased.

“Hey, you know you’re my number 1.”

“Really? I thought that was Ben Cardy.”

“Well—” I shoved his shoulder. “I’m kidding! It’s you. It’s always been you, it’s always gonna be you.” I smiled at him before turning back to the nesting doll.  Next was Ben in his Oscar white suit, wearing his shades and his lips pursed in that “Ooo” fashion.  “And finally you have…..” I opened it up and the smallest doll was my baby Joey.

“You. The heart and soul of the movie.”

“Yep. Me. Inside—of Ben.”

“Ugh gross Joe!” I groaned out.

“Pervert. You’re just as bad as them!” he gestured to the camera.

“You seriously need to think before you speak Joey. Cause I swear…..GAHHH NO NOT AGAIN!!!” he tackled me to the bed and proceeded to tickle my stomach once again.  He even gave the right side of my neck raspberries and ticklish nips.

“Take it back. Take it back.” He ordered me.

“I TAKE IT BACK!! I TAKE IT BAHAHAHACK!!” I proclaimed which made him stop and look down at me. “Why do you always have to tickle me in order to get me to agree with you?”

“Cause it’s fun.” He shrugged nonchalantly.  “And it makes your cuteness factor go way up.” He said as he rose his arm up over his head to show me just how much my cuteness factor is.

“You’re a dork.”

“But I’m your dork. Whom you love and treasure and will never upset because he knows your weakness.” He said as he nuzzled his nose into my neck and squeezed my sides which made me shriek and him chuckle evilly.

“Please Joey no more tickling.” I whined as I pouted up at him.

“Okay no more for today.” He pecked my lips before playfully booped my nose.  We smiled at each other as his nose would gently brush up against mine. “So what shall we do today?”

“You not gonna finish your video for your fan gifts?”

“I’ll finish it later. Besides I’ll need to cut out that brief PG-13 make out session.”

“Yes please do.”

“So since I heard you laughing and groaning downstairs that could only mean you were watching the Ridiculousness marathon. May I join you?”

“You may good sir. Then afterwards we can catch you up on the Marvel movies.”

“Do I have to?”

“Yes. I gotta get you on Team Cap before you watch Civil War.”

“Sorry babe, I’m Team Ironman all the way. And I haven’t even watched all of them or in order.”

“Traitor why though!?” I whined.

“Can’t go wrong with RDJ, he’s a legend. How can you turn your back on him? Rami did a freakin movie with him just this year!”

“Yeah but Steve made some good points in the film that you’ll understand. I will convert you to Team Cap by the end.”

“Yeah right.” We got up from the bed as the two of us continued to bicker about who was better Cap or Ironman as we went downstairs and a new episode of Ridiculousness was starting up.

[kylerkanw828-blog]

What Hollywood Can Teach Us About uk ceramics

What is up, men? I'm Sam Pottery. Invite to the studio. We have an incredibly amazing video clip for you today. We're speaking about my ten vital tools in the workshop. Yep, I walked around. I went to the studio. I'm in the studio today. Furthermore, I walked around, as well as I took the tools that I think I enjoy the most that I utilize the most that are the most important to my everyday success in the studio, so I want to share with you, I have the 10 things but first off.

I've been using this for at least a year currently, as well as if a man makes it one more Potter, his name is Old Forge developments on Instagram, and also he's from the United Kingdom, and he makes these, and he sells them on his website. You can acquire them. What it is a device for creating a foot on your pots while you're tossing, so you can either choose to not cut it after, or you require marginal trimming, but it's a foot completing device that saves a ton of time, as well as it looks immaculate, oh the various other point I like concerning it is it functions well as a drip catcher, so you can see http://beaunvwm566.trexgame.net/the-most-innovative-things-happening-with-earthenware-uk this is an excellent example of a time when if that little trim in there that I use.

this device would not have actually existed, or the glaze would certainly have torn right off, so that's primary, thanks to old woodland productions for such a superb device number two my fundamentals, so these are the two sponges that I throw with one of the most, so the reason I have two sponges I like this mud tool sponges this is like a synthetic it's soft, and also it grooves outstanding for keeping in my hand like if you ever before see me throw this is what I have in my hand while I'm tossing this set is to take in water, so this one is a terrific throwing sponge, but it does not take in water effectively

so I utilize this sponge while I'm throwing to stockpile any type of water reaches elope, so there ought to be a link to a number of these devices as well as these mud tool sponges in the description of the video clip trial, so throwing sponges vital number three is an additional tossing tool that I use a heap I enjoy this steel rib likewise referred to as the steel rib of death if you are a potter, and you've never obtained cut by among these then look out due to the fact that they are sharp, as well as they will certainly leave a mark, however I especially like the shape of this one possibly seeing various other metal devices where it's just a more rounded, and also it does have a straight side but this I desire this tool it's terrific for producing a shape similar to this

so I utilize the straight edge as I increase similar to this, and after that I'll turn it around and utilize this edge to produce that indent right there this metal device, and I do not really recognize I got this from a lady that I acquired a number of her old pottery stuff from, and also I just began using it and I liked it far better than those various other regular metal ribs, to make sure that is it that's number three the steel rib of life and death fine number 4 as well as number five they fit okay, so you've heard me chat perhaps or see me use this trim tool on the wheel, so this is my favorite trimming device from an additional item from mud devices

you can use either side you can utilize this side for trimming like sort of level surface areas, and afterwards this side works actually well to trim in as well as get a lot of clay out at one time and so the other number five that goes with this is this cutting spinner so if you were educated to Facility the item out when you're cutting it you possibly put little pieces of clay around it to keep in the center and also I do not actually do that any longer at all I just utilize this cutting spinner so generally what you do is you simply put it on top of the pot you put your finger in there, and it helps to spread the weight like if you just put your finger there then you can make an indent it simply does not function that well so a BEST assists disperse the weight to make sure that you can have the trimming rewriter on their after that you utilize your trim tool to spin

if you want to try a little hack for you if you want to try out this approach, as well as you don't want to get this trimming rewriter, yet you can use a cap try using a lid from a container just put it on there and utilize this, and also we'll spin around, to make sure that's number four as well as give thanks mod tools' thanks diamond core tools I intended to share with you people that we have an Etsy restock turning up March 9th at 6 p.m. so we have over 100 possibly more like 120 pots rising, so it'll be our biggest restocking, yet I know I state that every time, yet they maintain obtaining more substantial lots of great stuff gold stickers

Minnesota mugs tons of slow-moving great fire micro-crystal it's going to be exciting so check out the following FC restock if you intend to get a John the Potter pot I 'd significantly value it adhering to one number six a paint scrape, or I don't know what you call this but this you decrease to your local hardware shop as well as get a four buck among these I like these for taking clay whenever I throw on bats, and after that you take them off

I utilized to such as when I remained in my old studio, and also I was extremely unpleasant at all times as well as there was clay everywhere, and it was a mess I used to leave the little items of clay on the bat after I would throw them, and we're going to speak about baths in just a second, now I like to take all the spots off the bat and also I perfect away scrape up all the clay it's so much easier it's so much better so paint scrape you can also utilize these similarly that you make use of the metal rib of death it's just a bit much more solid it does not versatile, yet you can use it on the side of pots as well

Really helpful in the studio as well as not expensive at all right miss number six all ideal going along with paint scrape bats we're going to speak regarding bats I enjoy making use of bats for a variety of reasons I have actually tossed off the bulge and I have thrown like where you you recognize you throw it, and also after that you take a cable tool, and you relocate it I have actually done that, yet I keep coming back to bats, so these are the baths that I have actually been making use of for a couple of years now they are from continental clay I like the square shape of them due to the fact that a whole lot of what I toss is smaller sized pieces that fit right in the middle of there and also these include you can do so many of these onto like a're bored

I have these where boards that are on my racks over there, and I can fit ten of these across where if I had huge circle bats like this you can only do like 3 or four, so I enjoy the form of this, so these bats are from Connell clay they're made of like a composite wood as well as I have a brand-new bat system that I am incredibly delighted concerning that I want to share with you guys it's this Russian doll bat system from Hartley as well as Noble, so they sent me this Hartley Noble is a firm in I believe they're in Europe, or they're in the UK somewhere, and also they are a husband-and-wife team that makes these, and also it's like such a genius idea, so you have this, and also you have items that can fit inside this, so you simply have to put this on the wheel once, and also after that you can place leftovers in like that, or you can place this item in, as well as after that you can place smaller ones, so after that you can fit even much more it's all regarding space-saving so if you have a smaller workshop, and you're kind of regularly stressed regarding like we're going to put stuff like this is a fantastic space-saving device for tossing incredibly little stuff

I have all I had this for a few months or not a couple of months a few weeks probably, and also I have actually tried it out it's actually great I additionally truly like the both the Continental clay bat and also this bat system are not constructed from like a non-porous surface this is a porous surface area so if points dry much more equally on them since the water can obtain taken in by both this and continental clay bats also, so I like those composite MDF like timber bats much better opposed to the plastic ones which I utilized to utilize all the time okay bats it's not number 7 there's number 6 I can not bear in mind these things are the diamond core tools grinding discs so these I have 3 of them I have a program I have a medium and a penalty and I end up utilizing the tool a lot so if you're simply mosting likely to purchase one then hope that's not the tool this's a medium so primarily what this is it comes such as this, and afterwards it has a glue back

so you have to utilize a bat to put the pad on, however then you stick it on your wheel and also as soon as your pot appears of the kiln if it does not sit flat like if you put it on the counter, and also it resembles wobbling a little you just throw this on your wheel beginning rotating it and afterwards put a little thin down, as well as it goes as well as grinds it flawlessly level I have actually essentially conserved hundreds as well as numerous pots with these grinding pads I do I like them, so they can get they obtain glazed off truly promptly, yet they additionally just ensure that their bases are flat so ruby core tools it's an outstanding product basically each time right before I send pots that have actually sold for the Etsy replenishes I will certainly experience as well as see to it if any one of them wobble then I toss them right on the precisely the wheel exactly on the grinding disc, and afterwards they're all excellent all right so at number 8 I believe we have two more, so I lately did a whole video about these killed shelves since they are blowing my mind how much I enjoy them they are so incredible

so they're lighter they're thinner they're all that things you understand it's excellent however the most effective aspect of them is that polish drips I needed to go get this pot when polished swindle a pot, so these were this is a recent pot that I just unloaded from the kiln as well as I kept the bottom, so I can show you men so before when a polish would drip off a pot onto a kiln shelf glaze drip right there, and I 'd be like oh yes after that I would certainly lift it up, as well as it would break, and also it would be all glossy there would certainly be polish throughout on the kiln shelf and afterwards the bottom of the pot would be messed up, as well as it was simply a mess right so actually currently when you obtain a glaze drip like this you look down there, and you straight draw I'm saying literally way too much someone quits me the literal police you look in there you see the glaze trickles the pot comes straight off it do you do not have to pull it off and also the bottom appear like this and after that all you have to do is simply use among those ruby grinding pads, and also you can simply grind that right down, so it's flawlessly level compared to the option where you need to like be scraping it off and after that scratching it off the kiln rack.

We're talking about my 10 important tools in the workshop. I strolled about, and also I took the tools that I believe I enjoy the most that I utilize the most that are the most essential to my day-to-day success in the studio, so I want to share with you, I have the 10 things but initially off.

I have actually been using this for at the very least a year now, and also if a guy makes it an additional Potter, his name is Old Forge productions on Instagram, and he's from the United Kingdom, and he makes these, as well as he markets them on his web site. What it is a tool for developing a foot on your pots while you're tossing, so you can either pick to not cut it after, or you require minimal cutting, yet it's a foot completing tool that conserves a load of time, and it looks spotless, oh the various other point I love concerning it is it works well as a drip catcher, so you can see this is an exceptional example of a time when if that little trim in there that I use.

[notyetneedcoffee]

Distress Call

Continuation of the Calling Series (Masterlist)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: NSFW; 18+; Smut

ooooo

Being in the middle of a hostage situation was not the way you wanted to spend your Monday morning.  

You lowered yourself against the wall along with the six other laboratory technicians and doctors. The masked man before you with the gun shouted at the others to quiet down. Another armed man forced the two women from the front office into the lab. Lisa, the lab technician next to you, teetered on the edge of hysterics. You reached out and squeezed her hand.  

The morning began with a simple stop at the lab of colleague. It wasn’t even for work. You brought Dr. Paul Wilkinson a bottle of wine for his birthday gift. Now you sat with an automatic weapon in your face. Your purse sat on the other side of the room, with your phone in it.  

Thankfully your watch, one of Stark’s designs, tied directly with your phone and had a panic mode.  

“Lisa,” You whispered. “Just breath.”

You pulled your hand back and touched the pattern on the face of your watch. Hoping it worked, because there was no outward sign, you began speaking.

“What do you want?”

“Shut the fuck up.” The bigger guy barked at you. His voice was gravely, with a Russian or Eastern European accent.  

“I’m just trying to help.” You said, remaining calm, passive.  

“When I want your help you will know it. Now shut up.”

The other man was hooking a computer into the network line. They were breaking into the network for something. You had a singular fear of what they were looking for. Nothing volatile was ever kept in this office. A few research items, maybe, but nothing particularly dangerous. 

At the other end of town, just pulling into Stark tower, FRIDAY interrupted the radio of Steve’s car. He and Bucky were returning from a visit to the VA Hospital. “Captain Rogers, Seargent Barnes, please report to situation room three immediately.”

They parked and headed up as quickly as possible. Arriving at the situation room, Tony and Clint were already leaning over the readout. A three dimension blue print of a building floated above the table. Bucky’s question died on his lips when he heard your voice.

“Hey! Leave her alone. She’s freaked out. Let me help, okay?”

A woman cried in the background.

“Don’t move or I will shoot you! Shut up! Quit your crying and put in the password.”

Bucky’s hands curled into fists. You were supposed to be at a friend’s lab this morning.  

“What’s happening?” Steve stepped forward, looking over the information on the readout.  

“Hostage situation.” Clint answered. “Y/N activated the com in her watch. She’s done pretty well giving us some good intel. We know there’s eight people being held. There’s at least two armed men. She’s gotten one talking. Russian, I think.”

“How long?”

“It’s been active for just under six minutes.” Tony zoomed in on the blueprints.  

“What are we waiting for?” Bucky growled.

“You, actually.” Clint smirked. “Figured you’d be pissed if we went in without you. Quin is all warmed up.”

Bucky growled and stalked out. Steve and Clint followed. Tony jogged to the balcony, his suit at his call. By the time the others were changed and in the air, Stark was already giving a live read out of the building.  

“The laboratory is on the 32nd floor. They’ve locked down the elevators. So that’s either 32 floors up or 28 floors down. Either way, they’ll see us coming.” Tony’s voice came over the com.  

“I’ll do a fly by and drop them on the roof.” Clint responded.  

“Do it.” Bucky barked. “Get me in there.”

“Sir,” FRIDAY’s voice interjected. “I have accessed the building’s systems. Would you like me to reactive the elevators?”

“No.” Bucky growled. “They’ll see it. Unlock the security doors.”

He hit the jets ramp, cold air billowing across his face as he secured another gun to his body. Steve stepped up beside him with a stern nod. As soon as they got close, Clint shouted out a countdown. At the signal, Bucky and Steve dropped the fifty feet to the roof of the building.  

You fought the urge to look at your watch. The clock on the wall told you fourteen minutes had passed since you activated your watch. The fear and anxiety made those minutes feel like hours, but you knew help was on the way. You just had to stay calm.  

Unfortunately, with the asshole holding his gun to Lisa’s head and Paul freaking out, calm was hard to find. Three of the lab techs cowered in one corner. The gunmen were becoming impatient with their inability to break into the network and Lisa’s explanation that she didn’t have access. They were trying to get to an area on Dr. Cox used, but he’d been off for several days.  

The work being done by Dr. Cox was highly confidential. His work to find an antidote to a biological pathogen being weaponized by a covert Russian team actually led to a far more dangerous strain. Only a handful of scientists knew about it. You were one.  

“Try again!” The Russian one growled at the other masked man.  

“I am.” He barked back, slamming his fist into the desk. Lisa yelped. One of the women the corner screamed. There was a distant thump.  

The Russian swung his gun around.  

“Hey!” You stood up. The gun swung around to you. “Calm down. We’re not causing any trouble.” You put your hands up. You didn’t want anyone hurt, but you couldn’t let them succeed either. “They’re scared. We all are, okay. But we’re not causing you any trouble.”

“Try it again!” The other man grabbed Lisa by the back of neck, holding the gun to her head and forcing her toward the keyboard. She let out a strangled cry.  

Things happened all at once.

A shot rang out. He fell forward, a hole the size of a baseball in the back of his skull. Lisa screamed and fell away. The Russian grabbed your wrist and pulled you close. The muzzle of his gun under your jaw. Bucky and Cap busted through the door.  

“You drop your gun and you’ll live through this.” Steve growled.  

The gunman pulled himself against a filing cabinet, using it and you as shields. “Let me walk, or she dies.”  

Bucky’s lip twitched.  

He only needs a millisecond, a minor opening. You looked at Bucky, waited for him to make eye contact. His blue eyes flickered to yours, he seemed to know what you were planning. His brows pulled together just a bit more.

You could feel your heartbeat in your ears. In one fluid motion, you pushed against the gun, jerked you head away, and dropped. A shot went off. Your ears rang. A weight pulled you down. You blinked, Bucky was suddenly over you.

He pulled you up, gathering you to his chest. Warmth and safety caused you to melt against him. A loud buzzing filled your ears, muffling the words Bucky whispered into your ear. “I got you. You’re safe, Doll. I’m here, Love.”

Tony came in, he and Steve ushering the others from the room. Bucky led you to the other room after a moment. Officers now gathered around, gathering evidence and taking statements. You took a seat a bit away from the rest. Bucky crouched down in front of you, gently touching your face.

“You okay, Doll?”

“Yeah,” You nodded. “Ears are buzzing, but I’m good.”

“I know.” His lips touched your cheek. “You did good.”

Tony stepped closer. “He’s right. You kept calm, gave good intel, helped the others. Good job, Doc.”

Looking up at Stark, you sighed. “I know what they were after, but the local cops don’t have clearance.”

It took hours before all the questions were answered. The adrenaline wore off. Exhaustion took hold. By the time you made it back to the Tower, you dozed against Bucky’s chest.  He gently prompted you up when the car Tony had called parked at the elevator doors.

“Come on, Doll. Let’s get you clean up and in bed.”  

Once in front of your bathroom mirror, you groaned as you got a good look at yourself. Blood splatter speckled across your shoulder, hair and skin. “I look like shit.”

“Let’s get you in the shower.” Bucky begins peeling your clothes off of you, not minding the dried blood. He turned on the hot water and striped down himself. Stepping under the hot water together, you tipped your head back and let the water flow over your head.

Bucky lathered up his hands and gently washed your hair. You leaned heavily against him. The feel of his body making you sigh, his touch turning you to mush. You muttered into his chest. “I knew you’d come.”

“Always going to protect my girl.” His hands cleaned down your shoulders and back. You felt him sigh. His touches became more sure, more seductive, as he washed you clean. His mouth covered yours, lips soft, tongue warm.  

“Bucky,” You breathed against his lips. “Take me to bed, please.”

He dried you both with fluffy towels and led you to the bedroom. “You sure, Doll? If you’re too tired...”

“I just need you, Bucky.” You ran your fingers over the muscles of his chest. “Need to feel...you.”

Bucky gathered you to him, kissing you slow and thoroughly. His mouth trailed down your neck as his hand slid over your ass, pulling you tight against him. You practically purred at the feel of his hard body rubbing against yours.  

He lay you back, crawling over your body, kissing your flesh with reverence. His tongue left warm trails over your breasts, down your stomach. His fingers slid between your legs, cool metal against hot, slick flesh. You breathed his name as his fingers slowly pumped in and out of you.  His mouth closed over your clit, tongue lapping lazily at your core.

“Bucky,” You fingers wound in his damp hair, other hand sliding over his shoulder. “Yes.”

He crawled up your body, and your legs wrapped around him.  Bucky nibbled at your neck, his cock slipping against you. You cupped his face, kissing him deep. As he buried himself deep, you moaned into each other’s mouths. He moved slow, drawing out every sensation, every feeling.

Your hips rocked together. His weight holding you together. His scent, the sound of him, grounding you. The tension built, heat coiled. You moaned against his neck. Bucky whispering into your hair, “Need you, Doll. Feel so good.”  

“Yes,” You wrapped yourself around him, body trembling. He thrust into harder. “Bucky, oh shit. Yes.”  

“That’s it, Doll.” Bucky breathed, close to his own release. “Yes.”

The heat rolled out, washing over you, making you shake under his body. You lost yourself in the sensation as your orgasm stole your breath. His groans mixed with your gasps. Bucky’s hips snapped. He held you tight, pushed into, as he emptied himself.  

You lay there wrapped in each other, breath slowing, bodies cooling. A deep relaxation mingled with the release of all tension of the day. A tear slipped from the corner of your eye.  Squeezing him tighter, you breathed. “I was so scared.”

“Me too, Doll.” He kissed you. “But you’re safe. I got you.”

“I know.”

“And you did so good.” Bucky slipped to side, gathering you to his chest. “You were so calm, kept your head, did just the right thing.”

“I was scared, but I tried to remember everything you told me.” You mumbled as you snuggled into his chest.  Sleep began to drag you down. You yawned.

“I know. I’m really proud of you. Don’t worry, Doll.” Bucky kissed your hair and trailed his fingers over your shoulder. “You sleep. I’ve got you.”  

You trusted him, felt safe, felt home... and drifted into a deep sleep.

TAGS

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[avintagekiss24]

Magic City [1/2]

Pairing: Steve Rogers x black!stripper!reader

Word Count: 3936

Warnings: stripping, strip club atmosphere, language, nudity, Avengers: End Game spoilers, canon divergence

Summary: It’s Friday night at Magic City. The drinks are a plenty, the smell of money is in the air, and the man you never thought you’d see again just paid for a private dance.

A/N: This is for @wxntersoldiers 5k followers challenge! Congrats on 5k followers! The prompts were so great! I had a blast writing this one!

----

You lean into the mirror, puckering your lips as you apply your favorite shade of stunna lip paint. You rub your lips together, squinting as you check every inch of your flawless makeup before leaning back your seat. Girls move around behind and beside you, all of them mimicking the same movements - changing outfits, primping hair, applying makeup. The bass of the music thumps against the wall as the catcalls and whistles of drunk, stupid men occasionally float to the back room. 

“Yo, Candy,” Johnny, the club owner calls, poking his head around the corner. 

A few girls throw their hands to their chests, covering their bare breasts as they begin to berate him, “What did we say, Johnny? Don’t fucking come back here! Pervert!”

“Shut up.” He spits, clicking his teeth as he turns his attention back to you, “You up next, mama.”

You nod, not even taking your eyes off of your reflection in the vanity mirror. You toss your new, long, stark straight hair over your shoulders before rolling your head in a slow circle. It’s Friday night at Magic City. The DJ is on fire, the drinks are flowing, and the men are rowdy. Since the blip ended, your clientele is at an all time high. You are easily bringing home anywhere between one to two thousand dollars a shift; and that’s a light night.

You slide your feet into your 8” ankle boots and tie them up as the DJ’s voice sounds over the music. Loud cheers and claps for the previous dancer swallow the music entirely as you stand and run your hands down your black, cupless corset. Time to make some money. 

You move toward the door and slip your hand into Johnny’s so he can help you up the staircase, “Next up,” the DJ says into the mic as he switches to your song, “It’s your favorite piece of candaaayyyyyyy.”

Dangerous Woman starts over the speakers just as you step on the stage. The lights are down as you grab onto the pole and spin around it slowly. The light rise slowly, the whistles and hoots of the men growing louder as you finally come into view as Ariana starts to croon. You close your eyes and let the music seep into your bones as you start to move, grabbing the pole and holding your weight as you effortlessly lift your legs into the air.

A smile creeps onto your face as you spread your legs, exposing your barely covered pussy to the room full of men. Green bills of all denominations start to float through the air, landing like feathers at your feet as you move. The whooping and hollering has died away - every man in the room in awe of you. You love that, you always have; the effect you have on them. For the other girls, the men are rowdy and rough - reaching out, grabbing and groping even though they aren’t supposed to. But once you take the stage, they don’t even want to blink. They just want to watch you. 

You take a few steps away from the gold pole and lunge for it, hooking your ankle around it above your head as you spin around slowly. You gasp mid-spin, grabbing the pole with your hands as you slip slightly when your eyes link with an all too familiar pair of blues. You drop to your feet and hug the pole as your lips part. You glance to your left again, and again find that pair of eyes on you, blinking at you slowly as a smirk spreads on his lips. 

You snap your head to the right and clear your throat, collecting your thoughts quickly. You slide your hands down your body as you sway your hips back and forth and down to your knees. You lay out on the stage and roll your head toward the first row of men, bestowing a slow, sultry smile. Money starts to rain down on you from above, and shoved into the band of your panties before you sit up on all fours.

You pop your ass up and down, smiling and biting your bottom lip as you twerk. You catch those eyes again - those piercing, deep blues, and you nearly lose your breath. All of the memories between the two of you rush back instantly. The first time he ambled into Magic City, your first private dance for him, the first time you invited him back to your apartment…

Stop it. 

You curse inwardly as you shake your head and try to get back into your groove. You move your hands back to your corset and start pulling at the strings, letting the leather and lace fall away from you to reveal the rest of your body. Loud whistles overtake the music in the room as your flatten your back on the pole and slide down to the floor, hooking your fingers into the sides of your thong to pull them down slightly. 

You find his eyes for a third time. 

They bare into you, almost as if he’s staring right through you. Your lips part as your eyes drop to the floor. You saunter toward the edge of the stage and prop your leg on the small square table in front of you. Your mind races as someone slips a fifty into the thin band of your thong. You can’t believe he’s back. 

What some are calling the blip, is now officially over. Five years after the snap, millions of people reappeared out of thin air days ago, all thanks to the Avengers. Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, Dr. Bruce Banner aka The Hulk, and many more of our favorite heroes battled Thanos and restored the world back to its original state, giving hundreds of millions of people a second chance. 

But war, often comes with casualties. Former Russian Spy, turned Avenger Natasha Romanoff, and billionaire philanthropist Tony Stark both gave their lives in the fight to stop Thanos. America’s first super soldier, Captain Steven Grant Rogers is still MIA. Newly crowned Captain America Sam Wilson maintains that he is unaware of Rogers’ whereabouts, and the government is remaining tightlipped about the disappearance. In a formal statement released this morning, the Chief of Staff of the United States Army stated that Rogers is considered inactive, and will soon be declared dead. 

Next up, we have your weather forecast…

You remember the newscast as if it were yesterday. You remember the parades, the moments of silence at sporting events, the memorials that played on TV for him. It pissed you off. It pissed you off because you knew better. He wasn’t missing. He was with her. The small, round, black and white picture in the compass that he never left home without, haunts you, even to this very day. He chose her - and it pissed you off. 

Anger flashes through you as you roll your hips in the face of an eager customer. He shoves a twenty into your panties before you move back toward the stage, your lips pressed in a hard line. You glance over your shoulder, connecting your dark eyes with his and let out a deep breath, having to literally stop yourself from sneering. The music starts to fade, and you plaster a smile on your face as a thunderous applause erupts for you. You wave seductively and make a brisk exit as the stage hands start sweeping the stage to collect your earnings. 

Once backstage, you plop down at your station and bury your face in your hands. Bastard. You tuck your hair behind your ears roughly before lifting your eyes back to mirror. You are not going to let him ruin your night. There’s money to make. He doesn’t matter - just like you don’t matter to him.

You take your time changing into your White Fee Bodysuit, knowing that requests for a private dance with you are climbing by the minute. You look yourself over, your breasts on full display in the sheer material, before heading back to the main floor to grab a quick drink. 

The bartender smiles at you, grabbing one of the small, rectangular glasses and pouring a quick vodka and cranberry. He slides it in your direction and you lift it in your dainty fingers, bringing it to your lips to sip it slowly.

“Room 2, doll.” Johnny announces in your ear as he slides up beside you, “He’s booked you for the night.”

“Oooh,” You shimmy your shoulders, downing your drink, “Big spender, huh?”

Johnny winks at you, “He must have been a victim of the snap, poor prick. Probably ain’t had any pussy since he got back.”

“Where’s my money?” You ask, setting your glass on the bar and quirking your eyebrow toward the ceiling.

“You know the drill, baby. You deliver the goods first, cash later.”

You roll your eyes but push away from the bar, scanning the crowd as you move. You push through the heavy velvet curtain and smile seductively at the man sitting on the black leather couch in front of you. A Yankees cap is pulled low over his eyes as he sits straight up, his hands on his thighs. He’s dressed simply, wearing a dark blue jacket that covers a plain white t shirt, and jeans, not at all giving the impression that he’s capable of dropping three thousand dollars for a night with you. 

An ice bucket with a full bottle of Dom Perignon sits on the small table in the corner of the room, two long stemmed flutes sitting on either side of it. You move over to him and sit in his lap, swinging your legs over his as you slide your hand over his shoulder, “Hi baby.” You coo, tilting your head and biting your bottom lip, “I’m Candy. Why don’t you take that hat off so I can see that handsome face, hmm?”

He chuckles, but obliges you, grabbing the bill of his hat and removing it. You roll your eyes heavily as his face comes into view and push your hands in his chest to try and stand. He tightens his grip on you, “Just wait a second.”

You purse your lips as you stare back at him, unenthused, “Let me go.” You say sternly.

You only have to ask once. He drops his hands and you stand, heading straight for the curtain, “I already paid for you.” He calls, causing you to stop. You turn on your heel and cross your hands over you chest, “That’s not very nice.”

“I’ll get you a refund.”

“Baby-”

“I am not your baby.” You say coldly, ice dripping from your words. 

He drops his head again, nodding slowly, “Okay.” He takes a breath before lifting his eyes back to yours, sincerity and sorrow flooding through them, “Can I get one last dance then?” You take a deep breath, “You can keep whatever is extra.”

You suck your teeth and send your eyes toward the champagne in the corner as the wheels turn in your head. You should keep walking, leave him high and dry without a second thought like he did you. The business woman in you doesn’t want to show him any sign of weakness - or that he hurt you. Just think about the money. It’s always about the money. 

But, you know that’s not true; especially when it comes to him. 

You turn on your heel as the music being piped into the room changes. Blac Youngsta fills the room, Cut Up flooding your ears. You can’t help but smile. It’s perfect. You’re gonna make him regret this. You saunter to the small, round stage in front of the couch and step on it. Steve leans forward, pushing his way to the edge of the couch. You turn and squat down, peering at him over your shoulder. His eyes are wide and hungry as he stares back you and then slowly drags his eyes down your back to your plump, round ass. 

Just like old times. 

You stand and place your hands on your knees, bending slightly as you start to bounce your ass to the beat. You pop your ass and wind your hips as you twerk for him. You snap your head to cut your eyes back at him, biting your lip to heighten your allure. You turn to face him and throw your arm around his neck, pulling his face so close to your toned stomach that his nose brushes against the thin material of your body suit.

You hear him moan as his hands snake up your sides, “God, they don’t have girls like you in the fifties.”

You laugh lightly as your roll your body, “I bet they don’t.”

You push your fingers into his hair, grabbing and pulling before you push his face into your cleavage. You shimmy your shoulders, jiggling your breasts as he nuzzles into you, a long, gravelly groan scratching at his throat.  You pull his head away from you and roll your hips into his face, letting his nose brush against your pussy. He takes a breath, taking in a deep whiff of your natural, carnal scent. You feel him shiver - just like old times. 

You drop to your knees and lean forward onto the tips of your fingers. You spread your legs wide as you start to twerk again, pushing your hips and ass back into his face before moving forward away from him again. You feel his finger hook under the thin belt of your body suit, and then the familiar feeling of money scraping along your skin. That’s one thing you always liked about Steve, he was always a great tipper. 

He lets his fingers linger on your brown skin, pushing them along your hips as you move, and then down your thighs. There are only two types of people who you allow to let touch you; deep pockets and Steve Rogers. You always liked the way his fingers felt against your skin. Rough, but always gentle. Firm, but soft. Nobody else could touch you like that. 

You roll over onto your butt and bring your knees toward your chest. You cock your head and smile slowly at him. His eyes are wide, pupils almost blown, the brilliant blue damn near black as he’s filled with lust for you and your body. You let your legs fall open, the thin see through material putting your pretty pussy on full display. He inhales sharply as his eyes drop to your sex. He bites his lip and reaches out to touch you, but you slap his hand away quickly, watching as he recoils with a smirk on his face. 

“I’ve missed you so fucking much.” He offers.

You return his smirk as you sit up and crawl toward him. You reach for him, prompting him to grab your hand and help you into his lap. You place your knees on either side of his thighs and rest your hands on his shoulders as you push your breasts into his face again. You sit down into his lap and bite your lip as you feel his hard on through his jeans. You roll your hips into his dick and then slide his dick in between your ass cheeks, groaning slightly. You miss that dick. You didn’t realize just how much until this minute. 

Steve slides his hands up your sides as he glances up at you, “So you do miss me.”

“What makes you think that, Captain?”

“I heard you just now.” He says, his voice heavy and full, “You miss this cock, don’t you?”

You take a breath and unconsciously tighten your grip on his shoulder. He chuckles as he drops his hands to your ass for a quick squeeze before jiggling your flesh, “Yeah. You miss Captain’s dick.”

You toss your hair over your shoulder and lean down, grabbing his earlobe into your teeth, “I bet she missed your dick too, hmm? Seventy years is a long time to go without.” You lean back slowly as he cuts his eyes toward you. You smile sweetly. Two can play this game, mother fucker, “I bet that pussy was boring though.”

“Stop.” He says firmly. 

You shrug, tossing your hair over your opposite shoulder, “You said so yourself. They don’t make girls like me in 1950.”

You feel his eyes follow you as you shift your weight and lean back, your body still moving as the song changes, “I thought about you.” He says quietly, watching as you avoid his gaze, “I thought about you every day.”

You scoff and roll your eyes, trying to get back into your zone. When you don’t respond, he leans forward, “I get why you’re mad.”

“I’m not mad.” You say shortly, “Now stop talking so I can finish this dance.”

You untie the small bow that sits on your hip to loosen your sheer bodysuit. You push at the shoulders with your hands, letting the material fall away from your top half to let your breasts fall free. You’re distraction works. Steve drops his eyes to your dark areolas, your thick nipples budding proudly as the cool air tickles them. He takes two full handfuls of you, squeezing lightly as he groans inwardly. He leans forward and pushes his face into the warmth of your breasts, shaking his head into them as he wraps his arms around your waist. 

You circle your arms around his head as you drop your head to his, burying your nose into his hair. You roll your hips and then dig your hips into his as your fingers slide into his blonde hair again. He tips his head up to yours, his lips parting as he stares up at you. You push your chest into his as you roll your hips into his, biting your lip as you drop your eyes to his. 

He cups your face in his palm, sweeping his thumb across your cheek. His eyes bounce wildly between yours, then dip down to your lips, where they stay. His chest bumps into yours as his breathing deepens. He flicks his eyes back to yours quickly, but focuses back on your painted lips within seconds. He pushes upward, his lips brushing against yours as he tries to kiss you. You pull back at the sudden contact; a gut reaction. 

You stare down at him as his eyes widen slightly. That was the first time you had ever rejected him. His eyes bounce between yours as confusion washes over his face. He’s hurt. It’s takes you aback a little. 

“Wow.” He says after a moment, his hands dropping from your sides.

You clear your throat, suddenly irritated, “What?”

“I’m sorry.” He says quietly, never taking his eyes off of you.

You shake your head, “I don’t care Steve.”

“I should have come to see you. I should have told you face to face.” You drop your hands from his shoulders and cross them over your chest as you stare at the wall behind him, “I’m sorry.” He says sincerely - earnestly - as his eyes bounce back and forth between yours, “There was too much between us for me to have left you that way.”

You push off of his lap angrily, pulling your outfit back up over your chest, “There wasn’t shit between us apparently.” You snap back, tying the belt at your hip angrily, “You can leave now.”

“I want to talk to you.”

“Well, I don’t want to talk to you. Don’t make me call security.”

He scoffs at the notion, “Like I won’t put them right through the fucking wall. Talk to me.”

“There is nothing to talk about, Rogers. You left, that’s it. It’s over.” You growl, “I know what I am, and I know what you are.”

He squints his eyes at you, shaking his head, “What does that mean?”

You laugh, tossing your head over your shoulder as you move back toward the thick curtain. You spin around on your heel to face him, “Go back to Peggy. Or, is she dead by now? You know, again.”

He takes a deep breath as his jaws tighten, “There’s no need to be nasty.”

“That’s rich coming from you.”

“I fucking told you,” He shouts, standing from his spot on the couch, “I thought about you every day. Every single fucking day.”

“That’s supposed to make me feel better?” You shout back, “That you thought about me while you went and lived out your whole life with her? I was there for you when no one else was. You used me to drown your sorrows, not her.”

He drops his head, “You don’t understand.”

“I don’t have to understand,” You spit angrily, your voice full of venom, “You made your choice. Don’t come back here, a hundred fucking years later to now try and eat your cake.”

He places his hands on his hips and closes his eyes, unaware of what to say, “I’m sorry I hurt you.”

It comes out in a whisper, so low that you barely catch all of the words, “I’m sorry I wasn’t enough for you to stay.”

He snaps his eyes to yours, his lips parting as your words wash over him, filling him with even more regret. You turn and move out of the room before he can see the tears slip down your cheek. You move back to the bar and snap your fingers to grab the bartender's attention. He slides you another stiff drink and you gulp it down without a second thought before slamming the shot glass on the bar. You ask for another, cutting your eyes toward room two as Steve steps out, pulling his old Yankees cap back down over his eyes. 

You two link eyes quickly, reading each other like there is no one else in the club but the two of you. He doesn’t want to do any more damage. You’ve made it plenty clear. He’s hurt you. He drops his head and moves past you without even the slightest acknowledgement. You watch him move through the crowd of people, before he disappears through the front door. You throw your head back, swallowing the dark liquid before you close your eyes to push the intrusive thoughts away. 

Focus. You need to focus. Don’t think about him. 

“Candy!”

You sigh loudly, expelling a breath before turning back toward your insufferable manager, “Johnny?”

“You done already? Homie paid for the night.”

You shrug, “Ended early. Where do you need me?”

“You look like you need a break?” He half asks, half states as he raises his eyebrows slightly.

You shake your head, “I’m good.” You lie, tossing your hair over your shoulder, “Get me another private dance.”

“Room 4. I’ll send him in.”

You smile quickly as you saunter past him, swinging your hips and wiggling your fingers toward other clients as you move through them. Your mind races, flashes and fragments of you and Steve’s five year whatever it was, plays out in front of you. You push through the curtain and roll your head on your neck before stretching out your shoulders. 

It was nothing. You were nothing.

Just focus on the money. It’s always about the money. 

You step up on the the round stage and grab onto the pole, spinning around it slowly as a tall man walks through the curtains. You smile seductively as your heels click against the stage as you move, “Hi,” You coo sweetly, tilting your head as he moves to the couch, “I’m Candy. What’s your name?”

[love-pyramus]

Unbreak Me -Stucky x Fem!Reader

 Summary: Steve had just gotten the loves of his life back, only for them to be taken away again. 

Word Count: 2119 (I got carried away but I don’t regret a thing)

This was a fake title sent into @daffodilsbucky​ and I wrote it. 

Warnings: Couple swear words, mentions of violence

Steve holds back the Titan with his bare hands. He wasn’t going to let this creature hurt anyone else he loves. He sees (Y/n) and Bucky over to the side, fighting Outriders, keeping them away so Steve can fight the Titan. Steve gets thrown to the side by the Titan and he gets the final Stone. Thor is in the air, throwing his ax into his chest. Thanos says something before snapping. “WHAT DID YOU DO?!” Thor’s roar echos around the forest. Thanos vanishes through a portal “Steve?” Steve’s heart basically stops as he hears his girlfriend’s voice. He turns towards her and watches as she walks towards him, before falling, but before she hits the ground she turns into dust. Steve hears Buckys intake of air and turns to him as Bucky begins to turn to dust. “No, no no no,” Steve says. He runs towards him and grabs his hand and kisses him hard, but Bucky vanishes seconds later. Steve chokes back the sob building up in him. 

Steve shoots awake and takes deep breaths. He looks around the bed...and it was empty. His breathing quickens and his heartbeat increases. He tries to get out of bed but collapses before he gets two steps. “Captain Rogers, would you like me to get Sergeants Barnes and (L/n)?” Friday’s voice says. Steve just nods, hearing his lovers’ names. The two were in the gym, they woke up from nightmares about their time at Hydra. “Sergeants?” Friday asks. The two stop their spar at the sound of her voice. “What’s up?” Bucky asks. “Captain Rogers is having a severe panic attack in your bedroom and has asked for you two.” Bucky and (Y/n) sprint out of the gym towards their bedroom. Bucky gets there first and pushes open the door and sprints in, (Y/n) hot on his heels. They kneel next to the man who had tears in his eyes as his breaths came out short and choppy. “Steve?” Bucky's voice has barely any effect on the panicking man. “Stevie,” (Y/n) coos. “Stevie, come on. We’re right here baby,” Bucky coaxes. Steve looks up from his knees finally and sees blurry faces. He reaches out to touch them but pulls back before he does. “We’re right here Cap,” (Y/n) says. She puts her hand on Steve’s face and he leans into her touch. “We’ve got you,” Bucky says. Steve’s breathing evens out and his tears begin to slow. The two both have small smiles on their faces and their Steve comes back to them. “There’s our boy,” Bucky says. This elicits a small laugh from the blonde. “What’s wrong Stevie?” (Y/n) asks. “I was there again-the day you two got dusted. And I couldn’t do anything again.” Steves says, and his voice cracks throughout. “Hey, that was in the past. I know we say that a lot, because that’s where we grew up, but we’re all here right now, alright?” (Y/n) asks softly. Steve nods and Bucky picks him up. “Alright, let's go to sleep.” He says. Bucky puts him in the middle of the bed and the two ex-Hydra assassins lay down on either side of him. “We’ve got you Steve, go to sleep,” Bucky whispers.

Steve is sitting on the couch, Bucky next to him, and (Y/n)’s head on his lap. (Y/n) gets up and walks out of the room. Steve’s breath hitches and becomes more rapid. “Stevie, it’s fine. She’s just going to the bathroom.” Bucky says. He puts his hand on Steve’s shoulder and watches as he slowly relaxes. “I-I’m just scared you know? I saw you both turn to dust, first her, and then you, right under my fingers.” Steve says. “I know. I’m scared too. But it’s in the past. We’re right here.” Bucky says. (Y/n) walks back in and gives a small smile. Steve returns it and she returns to her spot with her head in Steve’s lap. Slowly she falls asleep. Bucky is curled into his side and Steve lets a small smile cross his face. Whimpers from the sleeping girl startle him and Bucky. “(Y/n),” Steve says gently. She begins muttering in Russian. “Я не хочу! Остановите, пожалуйста!” “What’s she saying?” Steve asks. “She said ‘I don’t want to! Stop, please!’” Bucky pales as he says it. “Wake her up!” Bucky commands. Steve gently shakes (Y/n)’s shoulder and holds her as she jerks awake, not quite in touch with reality. “Стоп! Отпусти меня!” (Y/n) cries. “(Y/n)! Relax. It’s just me. It’s Steve and Bucky.” Steve says. He watches as she comes back to them. Steve pulls her into him and holds her tight as she’s shaking. “They had me. They had me again. I can’t go back there,” (Y/n) sobs. Steve takes a deep breath, before beginning to hum. Soon he begins to sing aloud. “Wise men say, only fools rush in. But I can’t help falling in love with you,” Steve smiles when he fees the shaking slow down. “Shall I stay? Would it be a sin? If I can’t help falling in love with you. Like a river flows surely to the sea. Darling so it goes, some things are meant to be. Take my hand, take my whole life too, for I can't help falling in love with you. Like a river flows surely to the sea, darling so it goes, some things are meant to be. Take my hand, take my whole life too, for I can't help falling in love with you. For I can't help falling in love with you,” Steve sings softly. His lips completely turn up as (Y/n) stops shaking. 

“Steve, I can light a fire on my own.” Bucky sighs. Steve nods, and he knows this, but he was scared every time. “I know Buck, I just get scared. It’s nothing with you and everything with me. I-I’m broken, I’m sorry,” Steve says, and he’s crying. “(Y/n)!” Bucky calls. (Y/n) runs into the room with her gun held out in front of her. “What?!” She says. “Shit,” She mumbles, dropping the gun and running to the two men. “Stevie, what’s wrong?” (Y/n) asks. “I-I’m broken. I’m sorry.” Steve says. (Y/n) shakes her head. “Stevie, don’t you dare call yourself broken, because you’re not. Buck and I literally died in front of you twice, and you being protective of us is expected. Yeah, maybe it’s a bit much sometimes, but that doesn’t mean you’re broken.” (Y/n) says. “(Y/n) and I were taken captive and turned into murder machines. The first time you saw us after 70 years we were trying to kill you, and we had shot your friend twice, and almost killed Fury. You broke through all that brainwashing and training, right into our hearts. You found us and fixed us. So don’t you dare be sorry for it.” Bucky says, looking Steve straight in the eyes. “I just got the two of you back, and then you guys were gone again. Please don’t leave again.” Steve begs. (Y/n) and Bucky nod. “We aren’t planning on it anytime soon.” Bucky says. The three make their way to the bed. “Come on, get some sleep. And (N/n), put the gun away.” Bucky says. 

Steve grunted as he was thrown into the corner of another alley. “Not so tough now are you?” The man asks. “Leave him ‘lone!” A voice calls from the entrance. “What you gonna do dollface?” the man asks, a sleazy smirk on his face. “Leave him alone or you’ll see,” The girl’s voice persisted. The soundtrack of footsteps coming closer causes Steve to look up. A girl in a casual dress is walking towards them. “What you gonna do if I don’t leave him alone dollface?” The man asks again. The girl goes to punch the man but he catches her fist. But a smirk is given and before Steve can register what happened the man is on the ground. “Now get!” The girl says. The man runs out of the alley, seemingly frightened. “(Y/n) (L/n),” She says, holding her hand out for Steve to take. “Steve Rogers.” He says as he gets up. “Steve, there you are!” Bucky says running into the alley. “I’m fine Buck,” Steve says. “Who’s this?” Bucky asks. “(Y/n) (L/n). And you?” (Y/n) asks. “James Barnes, but you can call me Bucky,” Bucky says. “Nice to meet you. If you don’t mind I have to get home. I’ll see you two soon,” She says, before walking out of the alley. “I like her,” Steve says. Bucky nods. “Yeah,” 

Bucky turns to Steve as (Y/n) kicks the man in the ass and out of the alley. “You got your orders,” Steve says. “Sergent James Barnes, shipping out first thing tomorrow morning, along with his right-hand girl, Sergent (Y/n) (L/n),” Bucky says. Steve’s eyes widen as he gets up and they put their arms around his shoulders. “Come on, it’s our last night. We gotta get you cleaned up.” Bucky says. “Why, where we going?” Steve asks. “The future,” (Y/n) says. 

“Buck? (N/n)?” Steve whispers as he walks into a room. “Sergent 32557...Barnes,” Steve runs towards the faint muttering. He hears low groans as well but runs there none the less. “Bucky? Oh my god,” Steve says seeing the state his boyfriend was in. “‘S that?...” Bucky asks. “It’s me, it’s Steve,” Steve says. “Steve? Steve,” Bucky says. Steve breaks the restraints and helps him up. “I thought you were dead,” Steve says. Bucky looks at his boyfriend with wide eyes. “I thought you were smaller.” A groan of pain interrupts the two and the two turn towards the table that (Y/n) was strapped down onto. Steve quickly breaks the restraints and helps her up. “(Y/n), doll, open your eyes for me,” Steve says. She slowly opens them and looks at Steve. “Steve?” Steve nods and helps her down. “Come on, we gotta get out of here.” 

“James!” (Y/n) squeals as Bucky walks around the apartment with (Y/n) thrown over his shoulder. “Come on doll, don’t tell me you aren’t enjoying the view,” Bucky says laughing. Bucky throws her onto the couch where she quickly scrambles off and hides behind the 5’4 man who was standing there. “Stevie, help me,” She says, barely suppressing laughter. “I think I’ll let Buck have this one,” Steve says as he moves away from the man. (Y/n)’s squeal brings laughter to both men as she begins to giggle. “Bucky! Put me down!” Bucky drops her on a chair and gives her a quick kiss before leaning over ot kiss Steve. 

Steve wakes up again, not a panicked wake-up, but a normal one, the first one since the Snap. He looks at his bed and sees (Y/n) and Bucky sleeping soundly. A sleepy smile is on both of their faces and Steve lays back down. (Y/n) unconsciously snuggles closer to Steve and he smiles as she does. Steve falls back asleep and is only woken again by his alarm clock going off. The three fall out of the bed startled, and they laugh from the ground. “Alright, who we blaming this time?” Bucky asks. “Steve,” (Y/n) sats giggling. Steve rolls his eyes but knows it’s true. (Y/n) gets up and walks out of the room. And for the first time since the Snap, Steve doesn’t panic. He laughs as Bucky pulls him up off the floor. The sound brings a smile to Bucky’s face. “Ok idiots, today we are not leaving this apartment,” (Y/n) says. “What? Why?” Steve asks. “I called Fury and told his we aren’t coming in,” (Y/n) says with a shrug. Steve smiles at her, and she returns it. Bucky picks (Y/n) up and throws her over his shoulder, just like he had in the 1930s. “Bucky!” (Y/n) squeals. She squirms but Bucky isn’t letting go. “Steve! Help!” (Y/n) calls with a smile on her face. The Captain makes his way to the Sergents and grins. He pulls (Y/n) off of Bucky and throws her right over his shoulder. “Buck, do you want to start the fire?” Steve asks. Bucky puts wood into the fireplace and lights it. Steve places (Y/n) down on the couch closest to the fire and sits next to her, Bucky joining on the other side of Steve. Steve looks at the grins on the faces of the two and smiles as well. They were right. He wasn’t broken. 

[unanuvola]

(don't be afraid to let them show) your true colors

When you opened the front door of the apartment, you were welcomed by darkness. You thought that it was strange since Sonny should have been already at home, but you didn’t pay much attention.

It wasn’t the first time that your boyfriend left his office late because of a new case coming across his desk at the last minute and you were used to this. Before being the fiancé of ADA Carisi, you were detective Carisi girlfriend and those times were one hundred harder for both of you. Fortunately those days were over, perhaps thanks to the decision to go living together. 

You turned the lights on and put the Chinese take away on the table. It was in that moment that you heard a bustle coming from the bedroom. Your heart began to beat violently from the fright, however this didn’t stop you from running through that room with the 1265 pages of the Grisham’s trilogy in your hand, ready to throw it to whoever was in your room. 

You opened the door with the book above your head and you saw Sonny, still dressed with his suit and tie, sat in front of your vanity, looking at you from the reflection of the mirror. He had his hand on his mouth and his eyes were a mix of surprise and fear. 

“Sonny.. Is everything alright?” it was just after asking it that you noticed some of your makeup on the floor together with two crumpled up tissue paper covered with red spots. Without hesitation, you launched the book on the bed and reached Sonny who was still looking at you, shocked. “What happened?” you kneeled in front of him, a hand on his knee to reassure him, while with the other hand you took one of the tissues. You looked at him, searching for any type of connection, but Sonny was desperately refusing to laid his eyes on you. Preoccupied, you moved your eyes from Sonny’s face to the tissue. If at first you were scared that those red spots were blood now, that you could watch them closely, you relaxed a bit because definitely it wasn’t that, however.. “Is this..” you let the question unfinished, trying to not pushing Sonny. 

“Please Y/N, don’t look at me!” he whispered, his hand still on his mouth, “I don’t want you to see me like that.“ 

You quickly looked away, trying to respect Sonny’s plea, but when you heard soft sobs, you lifted your gaze and you felt as if somebody had clutched your beating heart. Now Sonny’s hands were on his face, letting you glimpse, involuntary, what was causing him so much shame. 

You stood up and sat on his knees, embracing Sonny in your arms, "There’s nothing to be ashamed of, Dominick,” you whispered, while caressing his back. His tears were falling on the nook of your neck and his arms surrounding tight your waist almost as if he was afraid to lose you. 

“Y-you won’t l-leave me for this, right doll?” he sighed in your ear, then he finally looked at you, “Please, don’t leave me! I-I swear, I won’t do this anymore, but please stay with me." 

Seeing your boyfriend like this broke your heart. Your eyes flew from his puffy eyes to the red lipstick smudged on his lips. You passed your thumb on them, they were soft and wet from the tears. Your eyes were almost mesmerized by the redness on his skin caused not only by the lipstick, but also by the rubbing. You were sure now that your arrival caught him by surprise and when he saw the lights in the kitchen and heard your steps, he tried to take off the lipstick, but then he made a fuss and the next thing that he saw was you ready to fight with a book in your hand. He must have been so scared, you thought, giving him a light peck on his lips. You took his face in your hands and forced him to look at you straight in the eyes. His cheeks turned bright red even more and you could see the flush spreading on the neck and disappearing in the collar of his light blue shirt. 

"You won’t get rid of me easily, okay? This sounds like a treat and probably it is,” Sonny let a weak giggle, while you were gently stroking his cheeks, “but I love you, Dominick Carisi. I love you so much and if you think that I’ll leave you just for this.. Well, it hurts, you know?” your boyfriend was about to answer, maybe saying that he was sorry, but you kissed away his words, “Don’t be sorry, you don’t have to.. Yeah, I’m a little bit disappointed, not because what you did, but because you didn’t tell me about it. However I also understand that sometimes revealing your own desires isn’t easy.” you smiled sweetly, trying to comfort him. 

“I was scared to tell you, even if I know that you’re pretty open to, you know, this kind of stuff.. But now, it’s like a weight had been lifted,” Sonny finally smiled and you could think of how beautiful he was, “and I’m feeling stupid for not telling you this before.”

“I’m sure you would have told me when you would have felt more comfortable with yourself.." 

"Yeah, you’re right, but in the end things went like this and, frankly, I’m glad,” he took your hands, turned them up and he gave you two small kisses on your wrists, “I never told this to no one, except to Teresa, but that was a mistake." 

"Oh my God, Teresa knew it?!" 

"She caught me while I was putting on my lips her precious Russian Red by MAC. She was furious! It was so expensive that no one could use it, neither Bella or Gina, much less his annoying brother. Can you believe that she didn’t talk to me for a month?!" 

You tried to hold back, but you started to laugh as soon as Sonny looked at you like a kicked puppy, "I’m going to ask her some details next Sunday!” you exclaimed, out of breath. 

“Don’t do this to me doll!" 

"Of course I’m going to do it!” you teased him, knowing that you’ll never ask anything to Teresa. 

The bedroom was filled with the laugh of both of you and you could cool down just when Sonny pull you towards his chest, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you kissed the tip of his nose, “and now, what do you think about removing all this mess and put..” you turned to your vanity, trying to choose one lipstick from your collection, “What do you think about my stunna lip? The Unattached one. " 

"If I can choose, I would prefer Rouge Vie." 

"I see that your taste is still refined since you were a young boy!" 

Even Sonny’s ears blushed hearing those words and you couldn’t stop thinking about how adorable he was. 

He was reaching your makeup pads, when you stopped him, "Let me take care of you,” he nodded. 

First, you put some micellar water on the diskette and then you gently rubbed on his lips and the skin surrounding them. You took your time, enjoy feeling his lips under your touch. When his skin was completely clean, you leaned your mouth on him and sucked his bottom lip, letting the taste of - maybe too many - coffee filling up your mouth. 

“Your lips are so soft." 

"Uhm.. I love to hear you say that,” he said, biting his lips and then trying to kiss you again. 

“Wait! Let me finish first,” you searched for the lipstick, but just after a few second you realized that it was on of the things that fell earlier. Quickly, you bent down and took it, “Ready?” you asked him, removing the cap. 

“Yep!" 

You placed the lipstick on his cupid’s bow and you started to trance the edge, then you filled the rest of the lips. It was so beautiful watching those full lips getting stroked by the tip of the lipstick and the color was so rich that his mouth seemed even more plump. 

"Here,” you gave him napkin, “put it on your lips, so you can get rid of the excess of the lipstick." 

Sonny let your waist free since you sat on his knees and took the tissue paper. He did what you said, he put his mushy lips on it and left three pecks, his deep and desirous eyes never leaving yours, then he turned it back to you. 

"Don’t you throw it?” he asked, while you were putting the napkin next to a picture of both of you on your vanity. 

“Nah.. I’m going to putting in my book, so every time I have to write a new appointment, I’ll think about your lips." 

"What a romantic girl you are!" 

You raised your eyebrows, pretending to be outraged, "I’d prefer naughty, but yeah, I can accept being your romantic girl!" 

Your boyfriend slid his arms around your hips and you moved a little closer, feeling the warmth of his hands through your dark blue blouse. You put your right arm around his shoulder while with the other hand you were playing with the collar of his jacket. 

"My girl..” he whispered, his hot breath on your ear giving you chills, but when you felt his mouth dangerously near to your neck, you stopped him. 

“Wait, wait, wait! You don’t want to ruin your lipstick, right? Let me see..” and you moved away a little, just enough to see clearly his face, “I’m not a makeup artist, but I think that the final result is pretty good. What do you think?" 

Sonny turned his head to the mirror and watched himself, "I’m.. I’m feeling beautiful,” he looked at you, his eyes sparkling, “Thank you for not judging me." 

"Thank you for trusting me.”

“You know that I never kissed someone with the lipstick on?" 

You gasped, "What a coincidence! I’ve never been kissed by someone with the lipstick on! Would you be my first?" 

"Only if I can be your first!” and in no time he lifted you up from his knees and he brought you on the bed, his lips glued on yours. 

You happily watched your meticulous work getting smudged on his face and certainly on your face too and you were doubler happy at the thought that after this, hopefully never-ending, make out section there was your Chinese food waiting in the kitchen. Sometimes life was a bitch, but tonight you seemed to win the jackpot.

°°°

A/N:

Thank you so much for reading ♡

English isn’t my first language, please forgive any mistakes.

[your-highnessmarvel]

Alias

Summary: Bucky starts to remember a certain redhead. The past becomes a reason to connect and a reason to delve back into his treacherous mind.

Pairing: Bucky x Natasha (WinterWidow)

Warnings: Violence, mentions of abuse

ALIAS MASTERLIST

AN: so for chapter two i wanted to establish more of the origin of winterwidow: how they met and the dynamics between the two. she is still fairly young in this, but more to come between the two as she ages up.

ALSO, i am opening a tag list.

                                         CHAPTER TWO

Bucky sat watching the sun rise. A warm mug of coffee rested on his knee, the heat seeping into his cold fingers. The weather was humid, but the fog rising from the grass announced a clouded, shielded sky. Upon looking up, feeling droplets of rain on his forehead, Bucky examined the incoming rain with nothing more than apathy.

Natasha’s revelations last night had taken Bucky by the gut. He knew, deep inside him, that he was familiar with the redhead, but to the point of having been her trainer? Her mentor, as she’d so said last night? 

Bucky was familiar with the workings of his serum, hence why he understood that to Nat, he’d been the same man she knew since she’d met him at fourteen. Since she’d fought with him and he’d broken her collarbone, ribs, and rendered her unconscious. 

As she had been retelling the story to him, careful in her choice of words, Bucky didn’t feel the familiarity in them. Usually, when someone told him a story, like when Steve recalled their days before the war, he could feel the recollection behind his brows, like a pressure. But this time, watching the truth spill for Nat’s lips, he didn’t feel it. He had to search far inside of him for any spark of the familiar. 

She insisted he take a break, and that break turned into a whole eight hours of sleep plagued by visions of himself with a smaller, frailer, innocent Natalia with flaming red hair. A dead one, that is. That he had killed with his own hands of a well grown man. 

Hydra, the Russians, the KGB, the Red Room; they’d made him do horrible things. Torture, kidnappings, murders, stalking. But as far as he can remember, physically rendering a child of fourteen to a bloody pulp has got to be the worse of it all. 

He didn’t want to think about it anymore. Bucky got up in a swift motion, walking through the glass doors of the compound. The kitchen lights were on and Steve was in the kitchen, brewing more coffee. The smell of his breakfast, eggs and bacon and God knows what else, wafted up to Bucky’s nose. 

“Hey man,” Steve greeted as he saw his friend waltz in quietly. “I made some bacon.”

“I’ll have a plate.”

Even Steve could hear the tightness in Bucky’s voice. Cap turned, faced his friend, and bit the corner of his lip. “You want to talk about it?” he asked quietly, tentatively. “I’m here, you know that. No judgement whatsoever.”

Bucky nodded, the frown on his brows creasing the skin between. A moment passed where the bacon popped and sizzled. Then Bucky cleared his throat. “I just hate hearing, over and over, just how horrible I was.”

Steve was quick but calm in answering. “That wasn’t you.”

Bucky’s head snapped up. “Wasn’t me?” he said. “Steve, that little girl that I basically broke like a plastic doll was beaten by a very real me. And that girl, Nat, was very real too.”

Steve wanted to comfort his friend and it showed in the way he hesitated, hands outstretched, for half a second before shaking his head. “It was Hydra,” he answered. “It was the Winter Soldier. The Bucky I know would never dare lay a hand on a woman and certainly not a child.”

Lips pinched, Bucky nodded, anger and that familiar confusion rising in his chest. “She knew me as the Ghost,” he mumbled, eyes wandering across the floor, unable to meet his longtime friend. “All her life, until, well, until SHIELD fell. She knew me as this elusive, abusive machine.”

Steve nodded slowly. “I know, she told me.” Then he took a step and put a hand on the other man’s shoulder, finger’s clenching reassuringly. “I hate what they did to you. To your mind. I hate what they made you do.”

Bucky’s eyes burned with tears, and for the first time in a long time, he let them brush past his lashes and down his cheeks. “Fuck, Steve,” he murmured, dying to lean into his touch. “How could I have done that to little girls?”

Seeing his friend in such pain, Steve went in for a hug, wrapping his arms around Bucky’s head. It was such a vulnerable move, to have his head against Steve’s chest, face pressed in until the shirt was wet from tears. 

When Steve spoke, his voice was strained. “You should ask Natasha for the rest of the story,” he said. “If you want. If you can.”

Bucky nodded, retreated, wiped the tears from his eyes. A lump was still lodged in his throat, but he smiled and wandered back out the kitchen. 

If he was going to get the rest, he’d do it now. Now, when he was ready. 

The compound was quiet given the hour. He knew Sam was still sleeping and Scott was probably up reading a book. The hallways were calm, just the pit patter of the air conditioning and ventilation. Wanda’s room was quiet on the second floor. Vision, who doesn’t really, totally sleep, was hovering above the upstairs living room floor. 

But Bucky knew Nat was awake. She was trained since she can remember, and if she had been under the same care that Bucky had been, she was up early enough. 

The door to her room was ajar. Bucky pressed his knuckles and pushed it open. Her room, bare of any memorabilia like his own, was empty. The lights were off. Bed was made in that army-like preciseness. Clothing and belongings tucked in the closet. 

Bucky went back to seeking her out, and when he found her, she was in the library. Out of all the places he searched, he didn’t expect her to be there early in the morning. 

She glanced up from her book, red hair a wet rope in a braid down her back. She smiled, watching him from her place curled up on an armchair. Standing there for half a second too long, Bucky felt like he was on the verge of something. He felt like he always did when a memory tried to pierce the veil of his mind. 

He took that feeling, that feeling he knew was not good or bad, and walked up to the redhead. 

“Morning.” Her voice was sharp and when he sat down, her eyes watched him with keen intention. “How did you sleep?”

He rolled his eyes. “Bad.”

“Me too.” Then she closed the book and set it on her belly. “Nightmares.”

“Dreams.” Because the worst wasn’t the nightmares. The nightmares, he could handle. What was worse was the dreams that carried hope and love and tenderness; those dreams that were colored pastel pink or blue with laughter and smiles and warmth. Those were the worst. Because when he woke up to the bleak emptiness of his room, to the heaviness in his chest like a ton of bricks had been dropped on him, he knew he could never live what he’d just dreamed about. 

“I used to have dreams when I was young,” she rasped, meeting his gaze slowly. “I used to dream that my mother would come and get me, and we’d walk out of the doors just her and me. Forget the other girls that were training with me. Forget the injustice of it all. We just simply walked out together.”

Bucky frowned. “You remember your mother?” he asked. 

“Only that she had red hair like me,” was Nat’s quiet answer. Her eyes were vacant when she unfurled from her position to sit with her knees facing him. “Then I used to dream that I’d kill everyone in that Room. I’d kill the girls. I’d kill Mistress Galina. The medics. The trainers... You.”

They stared at each other for a second. 

Then Nat continued: “But then those dreams became nightmares, like they always do,” she said. “Hopes and aspirations become the demons chasing you in your nightmares, mocking you.”

“Did you ever have nightmares about me?” he asked, tone almost shameful.

She swallowed hard. “Yes.”

Russia, 1999, Red Room. Black Widow Program. Class of ‘84.

It had been a year since Natalia had met with and been sorely humiliated by the Ghost, as she called him now. He haunted her nightmares like a plague; every corner, every somber alley or dark hallway, he was there. 

Natalia roomed with three other girls. Bunks. She slept in the second one, bottom bed. Her roommates, Nadia, Tiana, and Lev, were all a few months older than Nat, so when she was transferred to their room, she was forced to bunk in the bottom. 

Lev was the one she was closest to, but in the Red Room, under the constant supervision of the Mistresses, there was no room for attachment. No room for sentiments. It was completely void of any emotion, and if you were caught with a negative emotion, you were sure to spend a few nights in isolation. 

Natalia had learned to cage her feelings between her ribs, to tuck her sadness or her envy between her heart and bones. To tuck vulnerability and sympathy deep down inside of her. 

The ghost himself didn’t look like a man fit for emotion. His face remained as stoic as ever as he walked the girls through fighting stances. He was cold. Calculated. Stiff. The word “no” never sounded so threatening than when it came off his lips. 

Ever since her total humiliation, Natalia had worked tenfold to better her fighting. She was the best among the girls of her class, even so that none picked her as a fighting partner. She was either paired with a trainer or a dummy. 

But the most devastating thing was not her lack of “friends” or the way the Mistresses looked at her or the whispers she heard behind her back. The worst was her knowledge about the Ghost. He was a trained killer. They had emptied his brain and filled it to the brim with training. They voided his feelings, something Natalia wished they’d done to her while they injected her with a reformed version of the Serum. 

But with that knowledge, she could sometimes see it in his eyes. A shift. A quirking eyebrow, a cocking head, squinting eyes. He remembered things, and not things he was supposed to. When those things happened, very rarely, Natalia would see the subtle change; parting his lips, his face going from blank to open in a matter of seconds. Then the guards would come and haul him out. 

When he’d come back, it’s like he had never had that glimpse of his past life. 

And today, during training, he had one of those epiphanies. 

He was not a talkative trainer. Not like the Mistresses. He was quiet, watchful. He was assertive. If Natalia didn’t land a kick the way he’d taught it, she was sure to be told. 

“Higher.”

Nat turned, sweat on her brow, red hair sticking to her wet cheeks. “Yes, sir.”

She tried again, the movement in its entirety, but when she turned to watch his face, he was shaking his head. Brown hair scratch across his stubble. “I said higher.”

“Yes, sir.” This time, breathless, Natalia did it again. She was beginning to feel the days training in her body; bones and muscles straining and aching. 

When she turned, heaving, to face him, he was giving her one of those looks. Faraway. Wide-eyed. Lips parted as if words were trying to come out. Brows pulled up in surprise, as if he was not expecting to be here.

“Sir?” Natalia tried, remaining a respectable - and safe - distance from him. 

Brown brows scrunched up into a frown. “Nat?” The voice that came from him was small, childish, and Natalia’s entire body went into alert. 

The girls had been specifically told by Mistress Galina that if ever the Ghost - or Asset as she called him - were to exhibit any strange behavior, that he be reported. 

But Nat hesitated. His eyes were so clear and blue, as if he knew who he was and what he was. As if he understood. As if everything was making sense. 

He reached out momentarily. Nat saw the way Galina turned abruptly to them, felt the tension in the room snap, the glare on her face. She knew she must have looked as equally shocked as the Ghost, so she schooled her features into a stoic, cold expression and glided her eyes to her Mistress. 

“Ma’am.” Her voice was cold and she all but saw the way the Ghost stiffened. “I request your presence here.”

Galina, dressed in black training gear, jogged to where the Ghost was standing. She took one good look at him, at the way the confusion ran limpid in his eyes, and grabbed her walkie. 

“Asset team in training room eight,” she called. “I repeat, Asset team in training room eight.”

There was a long - but yet short - moment where Natalia stood before the Ghost, clenching her fists. If he decided to bound off, there was no one to stop him right now. With his superhuman strength and the metal arm that glinted in the light of the room, not even Mistress Galina could stop him.

But like all the episodes he’d had before, he just stood there. Looking sadder and sadder. Scared. Empty. 

Then the team came in through the double doors. Assault rifles, black and glistening, paired with a red visor. Helmets. Batons. Tasers. And the doctor behind, in a stark white robe. 

On instinct, as soon as the guards were in the room - twelve in all - the girls backed into the far corner of the room. Natalia joined Lev, sharing a quick look, before standing on guard with the other girls. Mistress Galina, Mistress Hosk, and three trainers came to stand along with them. 

They watched as the team surrounded the Ghost, his eyes wide and fearful. Guns aimed at him, but he didn’t seem to register, or mind, and as the doctor approached him hesitantly with a syringe in his hand, the Ghost let himself be struck across the face. Hair blew into his eyes. Neck exposed to the syringe piercing his skin.

That night, Natalia had a nightmare. What would have happened if he’d decided to run? If he’d finally decided to escape?

[pietromaxi]

you’re a bad guy

request: @fashionlive15 Hi Sahar!! How are you? I saw that you were taking much request, solo can I please have o me with the reader being Tony's daughter and dating cap during civil war and she is on caps side until she learns that Bucky killed her grandparents and then Steve almost kills Tony and she is so sad and feels betrayed (it could be more that one part if want) Hope you have a great day!

hi angel! i really really love this concept, i highkey went overkill with this one but i like the way it turned out. hope you like it!

warnings: violence, ANGST!, like one (1) kiss?, blood?? cursing

——

for the first time in your life, you and your dad seriously butted heads. you would argue over small things, like: tony putting empty orange juice containers back in the fridge, or tony putting a red sock in with your crisp white clothes, or tony- okay so it was usually always tony’s fault.

but this time, who’s fault was it? neither of you could help that you believed in something so strongly you sided against eachother.

“i’m not signing that shit!” your chest heaved up and down as you and your father had an intense stare down.

“Y/N Y/M/N stark, sign the goddamn papers or so help me you will be grounded until you’re in an old lady home!” tony was basically foaming at the mouth. it was a serious hit to his ego knowing his baby wasn’t with him. his baby was with cap.

but here you are now, leaning on the side wall of the quinjet, listening to your beloved boyfriend and best friend talk about their past.

“you remember that time we had to ride back from rockaway beach in the back of that freezer truck?” bucky snorted and looked over at his best friend.

“was that the time we used our train money to buy hotdogs?” now it was your turn to laugh, both boys looked at you and smiled, steve pressing a kiss to your head.

“you blew three bucks trying to win that stuffed bear for a redhead.”

“oh god, bucky. three bucks? wasn’t that like three-hundred-dollars back then?” bucky looked over at you with a dopey smile, “something like that. what was her name again?”

“dolores. you called her dot.”

“she’s gotta be a hundred years old right now.”

“so are you boys.” you clapped a hand on each of their shoulders, moving to stand in between them. “real funny, y/n. real funny.”

the doors on the quinjet opened and you walked with bucky and steve up to a door, slightly ajar, hidden in some rock.

“he can’t have been here more than a few hours.” steve turned around to look at the two of you.

“long enough to wake them up.” you and bucky uttered the words at the same time. the three of you lauging lightly at the realization.

steve led the three of you into the cast bunker. you traveled down into the depths inside a caged elevator. you’ve always hated elevators, sighing, you moved closer to steve. he welcomed you with open arms and leander down to press a firm, but soft, kiss on your lips. “i love you.” he whisphered. steve had a bad feeling about this.

the elevator stops in the bowls of the bunker, the doors slide open with a high-pitched screech. steve reluctantly lets go of you, then nods to both you and bucky and heaves the cage door open. bucky readys his machine gun while you focus on the fire beginning to seep from your fingertips. the three of you walk down into the depths of a corridor, alongside a wall. bucky turns his head to look into an alcove along the corridor wall, it appears to be nothing but old technology so the three of you keep moving.

going up a small flight of metal stairs, steve shoves his way in front of you, earning a grunt in protest. “what? i don’t like you leading the way, you could get seriously hurt, doll.” sighing, steve clutches your hand just a little bit tighter. bucky stays behind you with his gun drawn.

at the sound of a large groan behind you, the three of you spun around, “you ready?”

“yeah.” immediately after bucky mumbled the one-word reply, iron doors were forced apart by none other than your imbecile of a father, his mask was currently off, he was holding it inbetween his hands. both you and steve lowered your weapons and stared in shock. bucky stayed stiff.

“you seem a little defensive.” of course your father would say that. you cautiously approached your father, steve followed closely behind, shield now being held up in front of his chest. “it’s been a long day.” you embraced your father tightly, smiling when he hugged back.

“at ease solider. i’m not currently after you.” tony held his hands up in defense as you went to stand beside steve, his pinky immediatley wrapped around your much smaller one, a simple gesture, but you two seemed to do it on every mission when holding hands seemed like a bit too much.

“then why are you here, daddy?” steve gripped your hand tighter, as you stared forward at your father.

“could be your story’s not so crazy. maybe. ross has no idea i’m here. i’d like to keep it that way. otherwise, i gotta arrest myself.” tony raised his eyebrows and shrugged, looking down at you, “i’m sorry this split us up, kiddo. you know i loved you through all of this.”

your dad’s words brought a wide smile to your blood and dirt caked face, “i love you too dad.”

steve glanced at you, and then to your dad, “well that sounds like a lot of paperwork. it’s good to see you tony.” steve lowered his shield, bucky flinched in reaction, but refused to lower his gun, eyes watching your fathers every move. 

“you too, cap. hey, manchurian candidate, you’re killing me. there’s a truce here. you can drop the huge thing you’ve got pointed in my face.” tony stared straight at bucky as steve signaled you can lower it.

cautiosuly, the four of you stalked down the corrdior, your pinky still held tightly in steve’s. very quickly, you approached a vast chamber, filled with standing capsules. tony stopped abruptly, “i got heat signatures.” 

steve’s eyes shot up immediatley, “how many?”

“uh, one.” your father’s confused eyes trailed over the three people standing before him, before looking back in front of him. 

as the four of you enter the chamber, dust bunnies dropped from the ceiling when the dim, yellowish lights flickered to life. a hazy, yellow mist begining to fill the capsules on the far wall. the four of you looked around, bewildered.

“if it’s any comfort, they died in their sleep. did you really think i wanted more of you?” a squeaky, russian voice filled the vast room, “what the hell?” bucky lowered his weapon when you lightly placed your hand on his forearm.

“i’m grateful to them, though. they brought you here...” suddenly a rat-like man wearing glasses appeared in the control room window. without thinking, steve hurled his sheild straight at the man, it hit the wall with a loud sound and flew straight back into steves hand. “...please, captian. the soviets built this chamber to withstand the launch blast of UR-100 rockets.” 

your dad scoffed, stepping up infront of the three of you. cracking his kneck, he spoke, “i’m betting i can beat that.”

the small man spoke again, “oh, i’m sure you could, mr. stark. given time. but then you’d never know why you came.” tony scoffed again, even though you couldn’t see, you just knew your dad was rolling his eyes. classic move, dad.

“you killed innocent people in vienna just to bring us here?” steves grip on his shield and your, now bruised, pinky finger.

and again, the little man spoke, “i thought about nothing else for over a year. i studied you. i followed you. even your silly little girlfriend, there. but now that you’re standing here, i just realized... there’s a bit of green in the blue of your eyes. how nice to find a flaw.” 

“there’s actually some amber surrounding his pupil if you look close enough, guess you didn’t study well enough.” the first time you spoke, of course it would be sarcastic. after all, you are tony stark’s daughter. your dad held his suit-covered hand behind his back, silently saying ‘oh i know you didn’t just say that, give me a high-five, that was a good one.’ 

everyone else in the room seemed to ignore your little comment, steve continued his arguement, “you’re sokovian. is that what this is about?” 

you turned to face bucky, “i thought he was russian?” bucky cracked a tiny smile and turned back to the newly-named sokovian man.

“sokovia was a failed state long before you blew it to hell. no. i’m here because i made a promise.” 

steve’s lips tightened into a straight line, studying the man in front of him, “you lost someone?”

little sokovian man looked grave. after a few silent moments he clicked his tongue, “i lost everyone. and so will you.” after he began speaking an ancient tv roared to life, static, then nothing, then a date. december 16th 1991. you all stepped towards it. “an empire toppled by its enemies can rise again. but one which crumbles from within? that’s dead... forever.” the small sokovian disappeared right as the video began. 

the video plays, a car is forced off the road by the winter solider. bucky gulped loudly behind you, you could feel his heartrate jump. the winter solider rises and gets off his motorcycle. a man lies on the ground beside the car. a soft gasp leaves your lips. its grandpa howard. 

he whimpered, blood seeping from a cut on his head, “help my wife. please. help.” you closed your eyes tightly, you could hear the grandfather you’d never met crying out for help, anything. 

“sergeant barnes?”

“howard!”

you heard grunting, the crunching of bones, squelching blood, crying out. tony slumped to the ground, head in his hands. your eyes slowly opened, “did you know?” 

steve looked deep into your eyes, “i didn’t know it was him.”

“don’t bullshit me, rogers. did you know?” steve swallowed harshly, he was in deep shit. 

he looked up to meet your eyes, a fire blazed, brightly. your powers trying to come to the surface, he come see you fighting it, “yes.”

a hard punch went straight to steve’s nose, a shove to his chest, a kick to his shin. and he took it all, he knew he deserved it. bucky watched in horror, this was his fault. you turned straight to him, ignoring your boyfriend apologizing profusly, “you! you- you killed them! my family, bucky! how could you?” bucky looked at you pleadingly, his eyes said it all. “you. bucky barnes. you disgust me.” 

you lunged at him only to be grabbed by the waist, metal fingers doug into your waist, “dad! put me down now! stop! let go!” shouting everything you could, you tried your absolute hardest to get him to drop you. all to no avail. he opened a door and threw you inside, slamming it behind him. quickly, he held out the palm of his hand and welded the door frame to the door. you’re not getting out anytime soon. “this is my fight, y/n. don’t you dare try to get out.” 

your fists pounded on the door as you screamed, pleading your father to please just let you out. let you fight, let you avenge. 

you heard slight sentences through the door, after your screaming subsided. it was clear he wasn’t going to let you out, ever. “move!”

“it wasn’t him!”

it had been fifteen minutes. fifteen minutes of listening to the people who were once closet to your heart fight to the death. you’d been trying to burn a hole through the door, but like little sokovian man said, it was strong. 

the door started thinning, little by little. but this wasn’t going fast enough. you’d have to take another approach, would it be safe? you’d only tried this a few time during training and every time it almost knocked you out. serious naps always followed suit. 

taking a deep breath, you circled your hands much like when trying to make a fireball, but the motion was a bit different. it became slightly windy in the room, a light breeze blowing through your hair, not enough. thirty more seconds and you’d be busting this door down, concentrate. you could hear your dad and cap shouting, but bucky was silent. could he be... dead? 

after thirty seconds the small storage closet was becoming so windy all kinds of things were blowing off shelves. with one final breath and an outwards push of your arms, a tunnel of wind blew straight at the wall. blowing the door clean off. 

a cracked doorknob rolled past your feet, picking it up, you threw it straight at the back of cap’s head, hard. he let go of your dad, stepping back and cradling his neck, “baby?” he looked in your directon, wind whipped your hair around, fire spirting up from your fingertips, irisis bright red and glowing. steve had never seen you so angry, not at him at least.”dont. you. dare!” a ball, spitting fire was thrown straight at him. he held his sheild up and the ball exploded, much like a firework. 

you stared at him. red flashed inside your head, he had hurt your dad. he had lied to you. you screamed out and threw fireball after fireball at him. eyes burning bright red, tears of black pouring down your face. you looked like something straight out of a movie, and for the first time, steve felt scared. 

he dodged or blocked every fireball that fell from your fingertips, “y/n, please. don’t make me.” his eyes pleaded with you, as he looked from you to bucky’s gun, disgarded on the floor.

tony knew what he meant. oh no, he is not touching his iron baby. he lunged for steve, the two rolled on the floor throwing punches and kicks. blood spewing from their noses and mouths. bloody fists and crackes knucles coming in contact time and time again.

you fell to the floor, would steve really shoot you? would he really kill you? would he really-

“he’s my friend” 

“so was i.”

final punches and throws were thrown. steve had the upperhand, his shield was directly above your dad’s arc reactor. “no!”

with that, steve plunged his sheild into tony’s arc reactor. crushing it. blue light flickered and dwindled down until there was a dull glow. he left it there, standing tall and proud. straight out of your father’s chest.

“you’re a monster!” you sobbed vicisouly and crawled over to your father.

“y/n, dont.” steve whimpered as he helped bucky up.

“you-you could’ve killed him.” you grasped your fathers metal hand, holding it close to your chest.

steve shuddered. you sounded so broken. worse than the time he watched you cry as your father fell straight out of the wormhole in new york. that was the first time he met you. he wanted wanted nothing more than to hug you and apologize, but he couldn’t. much like now.

“you, steve rogers, are a bad guy. you’re just as bad as any other villian we’ve ever fought, you broke me. you broke us.”

he dipped his head low and wrapped his arm tighter around bucky, stablizing him. he grasped his shield and turned away. you scowled, after kissing your father on the head. 

“that shield doesn’t belong to you. you don’t deserve it. my grandfather made that sheild.”

and with that, he dropped his shield and limped away from you, and all your history together.

steve rogers was dead to you.

——

a/n hi!! i hope u guys like this. it’s my first fic so be nice please! xx

[emergenciesstory]

Not How I Wanted

For @star-spangled-bingo Square “Proposal”

Steve x Reader

Words: 1916

Steve’s phone rang into the car, His hands tensing as the name crossed the screen. Tony. He gave you apologetic eyes as his shoulders sagged, hitting the answer button.

“Where are you?” The man clipped. “We have an emergency debrief and Friday said you’re not on the campus, and don’t you dare tell me you are on a run because you went on one this morning with Wilson.”

    “I’m in the City.” He said, weaving through traffic. “Can’t you do this one without me?” 

    “Hot date, Cap?” Tony sassed, a you clapped a hand over your mouth to keep from laughing. 

    “I’m busy, Tony.” Steve Growled out. 

“Too bad, Capsicle. Flight leaves in 30 and you better be on it.” The phone clicked off before Steve could retort, curses flying under his breath. 

“Hey, it’s okay. We can go to dinner any night.” You smiled, slipping your hand over his on the gear shift. 

“But tonight was special.” He pouted, lip poking out as apologies registered all over his face. 

“Every night I get to see you is special. But so are you and your job and your friends.” You said softly. “Watching as you got closer to your apartment. “I’ll see you when you get back?” You asked, trying to keep the sadness from your voice. 

“Always.” Steve kisses your hand as he pulled up to your complex. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.” 

“Don’t be. Just come home in one piece.”

——

“Where were you?” Nat asked, locking her belts beside Steve. Tony and Clint were piloting the Quintjet, Bucky asleep on the other bench. 

“Why is my private life everyone’s business tonight? I went into the city.” Steve said, voice low. 

“Try since you’re trying to be secretive. We are spies, you know. I can find out.” She said, smirk in her voice. 

“Don’t push him.” Bucky murmured in Russian, clearly not as asleep as everyone believed. 

“What do you know?” Nat questioned, eyes narrowing at her husband. Bucky held his hands up, gesturing slightly to Steve. 

“His life, his secrets.” He sighed in English, placing his arms back over his face. 

“Can’t I have one Damn thing you guys don’t know about?” Steve spit out, moving to a different part of the carrier. 

“Language!” A chorus of sass came from the three men in the quintjet. Steve rolled his eyes, moving to the private storage space on the cargo hold. He pulled a small box out of his pocket, glancing at his mother's ring inside before kissing it closed. 

One thing that can’t be broken by being Captain America. 

—-

Three weeks. Steve had been gone three weeks. You started to worry, after all it was supposed to be a quick trip. This is his job, he’s fine. You reminded yourself. You moved around your apartment, curling up on the couch with a mug, your favorite show playing softly on TV. A knock to your door interrupted your thoughts, glancing at the clock. It was too late for someone to knock on your door. The rapping rang out again, and you moved to the door, pulling it open to reveal a young boy, pizza planet hat on his messy hair.

    “I’m sorry, I didn’t order any pizza tonight.” You leaned on the door, smiling as his eyes went wide. 

    “You’re Y/N, right?” He grinned, looking down at the box.

    “Yes?” 

    “I was told to tell you ‘Special delivery, sweetheart.’ Not that you’re my sweetheart, it's on the box, see?” He held out the box, words on a sticker under “special instructions”. You grinned, taking the box.

    “What do I owe you?” You asked, reaching for your checkbook. 

    “Nothing, nope, It’s all been taken care of.” He smirked, rocking on his feet. 

    “Well here,” You pulled out a few bills. “For you. Thank you.” You smiled at him before closing the door, looking at the large pizza box. 

    “Steven Grant Rogers, I’ll kill you.” You sassed to the empty room, placing the box on the coffee table. Opening the box, the smell of your favorite pizza was intoxicating. It was in a heart shape, the dork.

    Just because I’m not there for date night, doesn’t mean my thoughts aren’t either. Friday, Reservations at 7p. Our place. Love you. Making those poor kids write that on the inner lid, he was such a softy. You pulled out your phone, snapping a picture of the pizza and pulling up his contact.

    “Dork, I said for you to come home in one piece. Not buy me a piece of pizza.” You texted, before settling back into the couch, grabbing a slice.

______

    Steve’s phone buzzed as they made plans for extraction. He smiled, knowing you just received his gift. 

    “That grin will get us found out.” Bucky's voice rang through the comms. 

    “I thought the point of stealth was to not be seen?” Steve sassed back.

    “Eyes, Southwest side.” Tony chimed in, spotting the target moving. Everyone, though spread around the compound, shifted for the incoming in that direction. Steve watched and saw a slight blur where Nat had formerly been seated in a tree, her no longer perched there. 

    “We’ve been Compromised.” Clint's voice came out smooth, the sound of an arrow flying cut off at the end. It was going to be a long night.

_____

    You walked your normal route, enjoying the warm sun as it danced through the trees in the park. Your shopping bag hung off your arm, swinging softly with the breeze. The church bells rang out 5, giving you just enough time to get home and change before heading to the diner. 

You slipped on the new outfit, and was just finishing getting ready when your phone buzzing on the counter made you pause, glancing at the screen. Steve.

    “Hey, Babe. Don’t tell me, You’re running late as always and-”

    “Y/n.” The voice on the other end of the line made you freeze. It wasn’t Steve.

    “Bucky, what’s wrong?” You asked. You had known Bucky for a while, but he always texted you.

    “I’m sorry y/n, he’s not going to make your date.” Bucky said softly.

    “Please don’t be saying what I think you’re saying..” Your voice began breaking thinking of the worst.

    “Sorry Doll, He’s not dead, the little punk. Just, unconscious?” Bucky breathed out, and you could see his face scrunched up at how bad it sounded. “I’ll pick you up in 10? He’d want you here.”

    “We agreed, I had nothing to do with you guys, that they wouldn’t know.” You said softly.

    “I think this is more important. See you soon.” Bucky hung up the phone, and you stood there frozen thinking over the words. You shook your head, flying into the bedroom to change, throwing your favorite of Steve’s hoodies on and your sweats into a bag. A knock on the door made you run out, no cares you looked like a mess. Retching the door open, you went back to grabbing what you needed from around the house.

    “Doll, you got what you need?” Bucky asked, holding your bag in his hands, making you stop running and look at him. You nodded your head, and he held out his other hand, gently taking yours and walking you out, making sure the door was locked and dropping your keys in your bag. 

    You followed Bucky into his truck, watching numbly as you headed into Upstate New York toward the compound. Bucky pulled into a space marked with his symbol, and helped you out of the truck, still holding your hand as he led you through the compound. You entered a section that looked like a waiting room, a redhead sitting casually on the side. 

    “You must be the Secret.” She said simply, not looking up from her magazine. You heard Bucky sigh, before muttering in Russian.

    “Now’s not the time, love.” He said, making the Redhead smirk. 

    “Natasha.” She said, standing and extending her hand to you. 

    “I know.” You said softly, taking her hand. “Y/n. And yes, I’m the secret. I know I’m the secret. I’d still be the secret if I could.” 

    Nat smirked in knowledge to you before taking your bag off of Bucky's Shoulder. 

    “You, my love, need to go finish your paperwork.” She said softly to him before looking at you. “Come on, I'll take you to him.”

—-

The hours passed slowly, the steady beeping keeping time. Your feet were on the bed tucked under the blankets as you sat watching his face. Bucky had come in to check on you both a few hours prior, but you turned down his offer of food. Closing your eyes, you hummed softly to the beeps of the machine. 

“Y/n.” A rough voice spoke softly. You opened your eyes, looking at Steve’s soft smile. 

“There he is. How do you feel?” You asked softly. Steve reaches his hand out, and when you placed your hand in his pulled you closer. You sidled you beside him, curling into his warm embrace. 

“Where am I?” He asked softly, kissing your head. 

“The compound.” You said. You felt Steve hold his breath for a moment, not saying anything. “Bucky called, came to get me.” 

“The jerk.”

“You were dying, punk.” You teased, fingers dancing on his chest. “But we’re here now.” It was quiet for a while, Steve looked around the room, picking up his phone from the side table beside a little red box. Recognition flashed on his face, before looking back at you.

“I’m sorry.” Steve said softly. “I’m so sorry.” 

You sat up, looking at his face. “Hey, don’t be sorry. You’re saving the world. Why should you be sorry?”

Steve looked at you, tears in his eyes as he looked at the box.

“When I got called away, I had set a reservation for us for the skylight.” Steve said quietly. 

“The Skylight? That’s the fanciest restaurant in town.” You said softly. 

“It is, your favorite singer was performing, and then we had to go, Tony called.” 

You cocked your head to the side. “That’s so sweet, Stevie but why are you sorry?”

“Our date tonight was for the diner. Our place. I had it all planned out.” Steve paused, and you waited until he looked at you again. “I almost lost you before I got the chance to ask.”

“I think you hit your head, I’m right here, you’re the one with the medical bracelet.” You sassed softly. Steve chuckled, pulling you into a kiss. 

“I didn’t want to ask this way.” Steve chuckled. “I wanted to make it special.”

“It is special. You just came back from the dead.” You gave him a lopsided grin. “It’s you and me like it should be. I’m in my favorite hoodie, you’re in my favorite outfit of yours.”

“A hospital gown?” Steve quirked an eyebrow at you. 

“Post Captain glow.” You smiled. “So captain, are you actually going to ask me to marry you, or just assume I can still read your mind?”

“Hmm maybe I’ll just wait.” Steve smirked, pulling you down into him. Your lips crashed together in a soft kiss as you settled into him again. 

“Is that a yes?” He asked softly kissing the top of your head. 

“Of course it’s a yes, you idiot.” You laughed. “How could I not love America’s ass?”

Steve glared at you soft heartedly. “Language.” He chastised.

“It’s a nice ass.” You giggled, kissing his cheek. “And you are my ass.”