#Hydra metaphor

[josephkravis]

The Modern Hydra: AI, Power, and Our Future

In recent years, Artificial Intelligence has gone from an interesting concept to an integral part of our lives. It’s in our phones, our cars, even our social media feeds.

[canonkiller]

what grief is laid bare at your own empty grave?

thinking about hydras and regrets

[zephyreon4-art]

"The fatefields would not allow it"

[Lancer oc]

[gossippool]

rewatched origins so kayla and wade moon parallels are in order. full legend under the cut

this will come back around later on because i love repeating motifs they are my source of air

maybe i'll be able to finish this chapter before my flight... maybe... but idts tho bc it's gonna be LONG and i might want to write some of the next chapter before publishing this one to ensure Continuity or whatever. i am rambling but i haev nothing fucking else to do

[impasta-wall]

“The ocean doesn’t change though right?”

His eyes were like the ocean, deep blue, broken in places by white froth, “just like the snow or the forests or the sun or the clouds and mostly the stars.” He raised his hands up motioning to the vast array of them in the sky, twinkling in the distance, blinking in and out of existence; the world so wide and for their taking even from the back yard they both shared now—a sense of awe washing over them both as they looked beyond.

He couldn’t help it but whisper, nearly seventy years late;

“The snow changed me.”

Steve looked back at him, same eyes, same hair. His hand comes up and gives Bucky’s shoulder a squeeze. Infinite understanding and a deep, deep longing.

“But we’re still here. That hasn’t changed right?”

I think a lot about how traumatic Bucky’s life has been so far, same with Cap, and I can’t help but shed a tear. In parts they are their own hope, it’s a little bit of codependency but it’s hard when there’s only one other person out there that understands you so carnally. It’s the shared experience of hope and loss and grief and love, romantic or platonic.

[ellemeditdance]

I was complaining about a project I'm working on where I feel like every time I finish a to-do list item it creates two more to-do list items, and my husband was like, "so you're not doing a very good job of killing the hydra."

Which, should have been a good metaphor. It makes sense. But it didn't sit right, because this particular project isn't a hydra I can kill. It isn't going to end any time soon and the fact that I continue having new things to do is actually kind of the point of the project.

And in trying to explain that, I came to the conclusion that I was frustrated because I'm used to treating to-do lists like killing a hydra. Check things off in such a way that no new things pop up that need to be done or added.

But some projects aren't killing hydras. Some projects are farming their heads.

[featherlouise]

ion think herrah would try to come for hornet after the first few deaths so wl had a good plan lmao - 👹

Every time a spider tries to get through she adds more roots

[honestlyvan]

Thank you kindly, I kind of stalled out on planning it because I couldn’t figure out how I wanted to write Mickey himself. I grew up reading the Finnish Donald Duck comic books and magazines, so a lot of my preferred Mickey characterisation comes from the classic Topolino Mickey, who can be a prankster and a trickster in his own right, and I struggled to figure out how to bring that warmth to such a dour story.

This is worth sharing -- at one point while Mickey is commuting, he sees one of those Eldritch Mouse cartoons on Twitter, and has a good laugh about it. Later when he meets up with Donald for a social call, Donnie gets very mad about on his behalf, finding it meanspirited, but Mickey just kisses his cheek and goes "oh darling that hasn't been my face for decades".

"Evil corporate mascot Mickey Mouse" is such a boring and unfunny take imo. Why direct frustration and anger at Disney towards a literal cartoon character instead of the actual people in charge?

"Fed up toon icon Mickey Mouse who hates current Disney more than anyone else?" Much more funny and accurate to Mickey's character. Actively turns Disney's own mascot, and one of their most well-known and beloved characters, against them. Mickey Mouse says that pirating and buying fanmade merch is always morally okay. He's counting the seconds until he finally escapes into the public domain.

[brunchable]

Language Lessons || Steve Rogers x F!Reader

Pairings: Steve Rogers x f!reader

Themes: Funny? Steve trying to relate to you more

Summary: Steve wanting to impress you, goes on a little lesson about Millenial/GEN Z slangs.

A/N: AGAIN, my sense of humour is shallow. . . I was crying when I read the full story because I find my own thing so funny welp. But hey, I finally wrote a Comedy for Steve 😅

Steve stands in the hallway of the Avengers Tower, a crumpled piece of paper clenched in his hand like it’s a mission briefing for a covert op. The words "Intro to Modern Slang: How to Speak Like a Millennial and Gen Z" are printed at the top of the flyer, making him sweat more than when he faced the Chitauri. He takes a deep breath, feeling the weight of your mocking laughter echoing in his ears.

“I’m serious, Steve,” you had said, eyes sparkling with mischief. “You can’t just say ‘groovy’ and expect people to take you seriously.”

Steve had taken that challenge to heart. He fought in WWII; he could conquer this.

As he steps inside the classroom, his eyes dart around the room. It’s filled with a gaggle of twenty-somethings, some in beanies and oversized hoodies, others with hair dyed in colors that defy nature’s palette. They’re staring at him like he’s a grandpa who wandered into the wrong building and refused to leave.

Steve steels himself. He’s Captain America. He fought Hydra. He faced Thanos. This… this is just another battlefield. He slides into a chair that creaks under his weight, pulling out a notepad and a pen like he’s preparing for combat.

“Welcome, everyone!” chirps the instructor, a guy named Dylan—according to his tag—who’s sporting a neon hoodie and a chain necklace that spells out ‘YOLO’ in gold letters. Earbuds dangle around his neck like he’s afraid to be without them for too long. “I’m Dylan, and I’ll be helping you unlock the wonders of modern communication.”

Steve nods seriously, his brows furrowed in concentration. He’s missing the confident nods and murmurs of agreement from briefings with the Avengers. Here, all he gets are side-eyes and a few raised eyebrows. But he ignores them. Focus, Rogers.

“Let’s start with something basic,” Dylan says, gesturing dramatically like he’s presenting a spell. “Say you’re excited about something… You might say, ‘that’s lit.’”

“Lit?” Steve repeats, his expression somewhere between confusion and fascination. It’s like he’s hearing about the Tesseract for the first time. He scribbles it down in his impeccable handwriting.

Dylan nods encouragingly, like Steve’s a kindergartener who just figured out the alphabet. “Right! And if something’s really cool, you can say ‘that’s fire.’”

“Fire…” Steve’s voice trails off as he writes that down too, then looks up, eyes narrowed like he’s running a complex equation in his head. “But… why would fire be a good thing? Fire’s dangerous.”

One of the teenagers snickers, and Steve glares, the kind of stare that once sent grown soldiers scrambling for cover. The kid immediately shuts up.

“It’s not literal fire,” Dylan explains gently, as if to a particularly stubborn toddler. “It’s metaphorical fire. Means something is awesome. Or really good.”

“Got it. Fire is good.” Steve nods firmly, though he doesn’t look entirely convinced. “Okay. Fire.”

“Great!” Dylan claps his hands, clearly thrilled that Steve hasn’t run out the door yet. “Now, if you want to show support or agree with something, you can say ‘that’s a vibe.’”

“A vibe,” Steve repeats slowly. “Okay. That’s a vibe.” He pauses, trying to wrap his head around it. “So, like, if Hulk is calm for once and not smashing things… I could say ‘that’s a vibe?’”

The room falls dead silent. A couple of the students are desperately trying not to laugh. Dylan blinks, then flashes a thumbs-up. “Sure, man. That’s totally… vibey. Now, when you’re leaving somewhere, you might say you’re going to ‘dip.’”

“Dip?” Steve murmurs, brow furrowing deeper. He’s trying so hard it’s almost painful to watch. “Like, uh… salsa?”

“No, man.” Dylan can’t hide his grin. “Like… you’re leaving. You’re out.”

“Oh.” Steve nods slowly, the gears turning. “I’m going to dip. Got it.”

“Yeah!” Dylan cheers, as if Steve’s just managed to take his first steps. “That’s a start.”

Steve looks down at his notepad, where the words lit, fire, vibe, dip are scrawled neatly, underlined for emphasis. “So, if I’m excited, I say something’s lit or fire… If I agree, it’s a vibe… and when I leave, I dip.”

“That’s the gist of it!” Dylan says brightly.

Steve’s head is spinning with unfamiliar terms. ‘Drip,’ ‘stan,’ ‘flex,’ ‘ghosting’—it’s all a blur of confusion. He gives himself a mental pep talk. He’s Captain America. He’s taken on gods and monsters. He can do this. He straightens in his chair, determination blazing in his eyes.

Dylan eyes him warily. “You, uh, feeling okay there, Steve?”

Steve looks up, a bit wild-eyed. “I’m Gucci, fam.”

There’s a strangled cough from the back of the room. One of the teenagers actually falls off his chair. Dylan just blinks at him, speechless.

“Good… job?” Dylan offers hesitantly.

Steve beams, mistaking the stunned silence for approval. He’s got this. For you.

× × × ×

The next day, Steve stands in the Avengers kitchen, carefully stirring his coffee. Bucky trudges in, still half-asleep, grumbling about the mission report he was up until 3 a.m. finishing. Steve looks up, a determined look in his eyes.

“Hey, Buck,” Steve says with forced casualness. “What’s up, king?”

Bucky freezes mid-stride, one eyebrow shooting up so high it nearly disappears into his hairline. “What did you just call me?”

“King. Like… uh… ‘go off, king.’ It means… good job.” Steve’s expression is so earnest that Bucky can’t even bring himself to laugh.

Bucky blinks once. Twice. He glances around, half-expecting a hidden camera crew to pop out and shout, Gotcha! 

“Uh… Thanks?” he manages, voice thick with confusion. “You good, man?”

Steve’s smile is too wide, too tight. “Oh, yeah, I’m vibing. Just… vibing hard.”

Bucky stares at him, “Right. You want breakfast?” He starts moving cautiously toward the stove, not breaking eye contact with Steve.

“Nah, I’m good.” Steve waves it off with the confidence of someone who has no idea what he’s doing. “Not gonna lie, your last cooking attempt was kinda sus.”

Bucky stops again, brows furrowed, “Sus?”

“Yeah, like… suspicious.” Steve taps his chin, as if that’s going to clarify anything. “You almost burned the Tower down, Buck. That’s not very poggers of you.”

“Poggers?” Bucky repeats slowly, the word foreign and clunky in his mouth. He squints, searching Steve’s face for answers. “Steve, are you having a stroke?”

“No, I’m just being vibey.” Steve shrugs, like that’s a perfectly reasonable explanation. “You know, staying on fleek.”

Bucky’s face contorts like he’s bitten into a lemon. “Steve, I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, but it’s stressing me out.”

“Okay, boomer,” Steve mutters, rolling his eyes with all the sass of a TikTok teen. “Whatever, I’m gonna yeet outta here.”

And with that, he picks up his shield, and with the gravitas of throwing a grenade, he yells, “Yeet!” as he hurls it at the training dummy across the room.

Bucky watches the shield ricochet off the dummy, his mouth hanging open. 

“He’s completely lost it,” Bucky mutters, rubbing his temples. “This man went into the ice for seventy years and came out with a mid-life crisis.”

From the hallway, Sam pokes his head in. “What’s with Steve?”

Bucky gestures helplessly at Steve, who’s now muttering “That’s so fire” under his breath as he fidgets with his coffee. “I don’t know, but if he says ‘poggers’ one more time, I’m gonna throw him out the window.”

Steve glares at Bucky, “Weird flex but okay.”

“The fuck?” 

× × × ×

Steve finally spots you in the living room, sprawled out on the couch, engrossed in a TV show. He straightens his shoulders, trying to channel the cool, easy-going energy he’s practiced in front of the mirror for an embarrassing number of hours. He saunters over—or what he thinks is a saunter—and stops right in front of her, hands on his hips like he’s about to deliver a speech.

“Hey, Y/N,” he says, voice a little too loud and too intense, startling you.

You blinked up at him, surprised. “Uh, hey? What’s going on?”

Steve grins. He’s got this. “That outfit you’re wearing? It’s straight bussin’, no cap.”

Your mouth falls open, and you stare at him like he’s grown a second head. “I—what did you just—?”

“Bussin’,” Steve repeats confidently, though there’s a hint of uncertainty in his eyes. “You know… like, it slaps.”

“It slaps?” You echo weakly. yousets down your water glass, fully focusing on him now because this—this has got to be a fever dream.

“Yeah, like… it’s on fleek.” He tilts his head, assessing your expression. “It means you look really good.”

Your lips twitch, desperately holding back a smile. “And where did you learn all these… colourful words?”

Steve shuffles his feet, looking almost bashful. 

“I’ve been educating myself,” he says, clearing his throat. “You know, so I don’t sound like such a boomer.”

You lost it. You doubled over, laughing so hard you nearly slipped off the couch. “Steve, you do know boomer refers to the generation born in the mid 1940s to 60s, right? You’re more like—”

“I know!” Steve cuts in, hands waving frantically. “But the class said I could use it as, like, a joke.” He leans in conspiratorially. “It’s ironic.”

“That’s not what irony means, babe.”

Steve frowns, clearly frustrated. 

“Well, I still think it’s valid.” He straightens again, as if recommitting to his mission. 

“Okay, let me try something else. Uh… Oh, right—” He points dramatically at the TV. “That show you’re watching? Total banger.”

“Banger?” Your eyebrows shoot up. “It’s a cooking show.”

“Exactly!” Steve exclaims, clearly not getting it. “All that fire food they’re making? It’s bussin’, right?”

You slap a hand over your mouth to muffle your burst of laughter. “Oh my gosh, you really did take a class. What else did they teach you?”

Steve brightens, as if she’s finally taking him seriously. 

“Well, if something’s bad, I can say it’s cringe.” He gestures to himself, a little sheepish now. “Like how I was talking before. But now? I’m all vibes, right?”

Your shoulders are shaking as you try to keep a straight face. “You’re definitely… a vibe.”

“Yeah, see? I knew I was getting the hang of it.” Steve nods sagely. “And if I want to agree with something, I just say ‘bet.’ Like—” He looks around the room. “—this whole conversation? It’s bet.”

You snorted. “It’s bet?”

“Yeah, like, I agree. It’s fun. And you know what? I’m not being sus, okay? I’m just being real. Keeping it 100.”

Your vision is starting to blur from the sheer force of holding in your laughter. “Uh-huh, sure you are.”

Steve leans in a little closer, voice dropping conspiratorially again. “Also, I’m totally shipping us right now.”

You choke. “Excuse me?”

“You know,” he gestures between the two of them. “Like, us together? It’s goals.”

“Oh my gosh, please stop.” you cover your face, both mortified and utterly charmed. “You’re not allowed to ship us. You’re in this relationship.”

Steve’s face lights up, triumphant. “So you admit we’re a ship?”

You throw your head back and groan dramatically. “Yes, fine. We’re a ship, Captain Cringe.”

Steve takes a moment to bask in his victory, looking immensely proud of himself. He’s practically glowing. Then, with all the suave energy he can muster, he smirks and says, “So, what you’re saying is… I’m the GOAT?”

You let out a cackle. “Yes, Steve, you’re the GOAT.” you paused and then added, just for kicks, “But only if I can be the MVP.”

Steve’s grin widens, looking like he’s just won a war. “Bet.”

And with that, he whirls around, strides confidently to the door, and as he opens it, he throws over his shoulder: “Anyway, I’m gonna dip before I embarrass myself further. Catch you on the flip side, Y/N.”

“Wait, where are you going?” You call, struggling to catch your breath. “You live here!”

Steve freezes mid-step, looking like a deer caught in headlights. “Uh… Well, I’m still gonna yeet.”

“Yeet where, exactly?”

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he awkwardly side steps out the door and half-jogs down the hallway, muttering, “This was not poggers…” as your laughter echoes behind him.

[soelstress]

Those Words

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female!reader

Summary: Bucky knows what to expects when he hears them. But what if just once they were used for something else?

Warnings: angst , some violence , character death

Word count: 2.1k

Square filled for @avengers-assemble-bingo “Bucky Barnes Birthday bingo event": Square 3 'Trigger Words’

Card - 4B011

A/N - Hello lovelies! My third entry for the above bingo event. Please don’t hate me for the angst, I promise a light hearted piece for my last entry!

The pic is sourced from Google

Do not Steal, Copy or Plagiarize any part of my work

“What the hell is this?”

“Why don’t we discuss your home? Not Romania. Certainly not Brooklyn. No. I mean… your real home.”

Bucky froze when he recognised that book. The book red as blood with a thick black star dark as his nightmares embossed on the cover

“Longing”

“No.” Bucky shook his head in despair and closed his eyes as the sound of screaming began to echo within his mind.

“Rusted.”

Tremors rocked his body when realised it was one person screaming. “Stop.”

“Seventeen.”

“Stop.” Bucky gritted his teeth trying to fight the pain that ripped through him, not only from the memory of the torture that Hydra subjected him to but also from the whirring and activity of his metal limb which had been dormant for 18 months.

“Daybreak.”

A scream of agony tore from Bucky’s soul as he ripped free of the restraints within the pod and began punching the door in an attempt to escape both the horror of his present situation and the memory of the screams ringing in his head and the last time he heard those words.

************************************************

When the door of your apartment squeaked open followed by the creak of worn flooring you breathed a sigh of relief. Until that moment you hadn’t realised how worried you were. Filled with dread that he might be seen or captured and unable to return to you or even let you know what had happened to him. But he was here now.

You watched as James walked into your bedroom and sat on your bed leaving some space. As his fingers twitched with nerves you waited with what looked like patience but internally you were dying to know what happened.

After what seemed like an eternity he took a small breath. “Bucky.” You blinked in confusion. That was not how you expected him to start but waited for him to elaborate. “My name is James Buchanan Barnes. But he called me Bucky.”

“He?”

“Captain America. Steve. My best friend.”

When you caught a glance of his blank face you realised he was reciting the information emotionlessly. Cautiously you probed him. “You remember that?”

There was a pause before he shook his head. “I read it. The exhibit at the Smithsonian.” He broke off and resumed his fidgeting.

There was a swooping sensation in the pit of your stomach. This was it. His opportunity to find his friend who would hopefully be able to help restore his memories and determine his future. You shouldn’t be surprised as you had encouraged him to go to the museum and see if it would help him remember. “What now?”

He sighed heavily. “That man who fought all those years ago alongside his best friend… I’m not him. He’s gone. He was experimented on and changed into something different. And I don’t want to be what they made me. I want to be someone else.” When his flesh hand tipped your chin up you saw him looking at you with a timid smile. “These past few months I’ve started to learn about who I am now. I’d like to learn more about who I am… with you.” As he spoke a softness entered his eyes, so different to the caution you first saw months prior. The day after SHIELD had fallen both literally and metaphorically.

Debris from their headquarters along with the three helicarriers had rained down upon the city causing destruction and damage which had led to your short shift as a student nurse at a hospital in DC turning into overnight volunteering as you helped wherever possible. Once the worst injuries had been treated and a semblance of calm returned to the building you were told to go home. You were exhausted but decided to walk the few blocks home rather than get a cab hoping to clear your mind of the chaos you’d faced. As the sight of the main door entered your eye line you’d been too distracted to focus on your surroundings and notice the three men following you. They had yanked you into an alley before shoving you against a wall and demanded your purse and phone. One held a blade and had sliced your cheek when you failed to move or respond from exhaustion and your head hitting the wall. The other two held you against the wall with one hand covering your mouth to muffle any noises. A noise of pain had barely formed when they were yanked away from you. As you slid down the wall surrendering to exhaustion and pain all you saw were a pair of blue eyes that you hoped would relieve you of your pain.

The next thing you remembered was waking up in your apartment. The man had sat watching you from a chair at the foot of your bed. In short sentences he had said that he wasn’t able to take you to a hospital but had stayed with you in case you had a concussion. He had also treated the cut from the knife on your cheek. You offered him money as a reward but he declined. When you saw he was filthy and bloody you’d offered him a shower and a change of clothes which he had hesitantly accepted. While he showered you checked your phone when breaking news alerts popped up about the Avengers. Clicking on the alert you saw snippets about SHIELD, Hydra and their weapon. The Winter Soldier. The man in your shower. A ruthless assassin was in your shower. A ruthless assassin… who had saved you.

Instead of running or calling for help, you couldn’t help wanting to know why he helped you. He confirmed everything you had read but said that after SHIELD and Hydra he wanted to run and be free from their clutches. His memory was obviously flawed so you gave him the basic information the article had revealed. He had said that while this information was fresh he needed to hide until he could figure out what to do. Whether to learn about his past or to move on and leave it behind. You’d never understand why but you offered to let him stay with you. During that time you had witnessed his nightmares and tried to help comfort him in the little ways he could bear; a glass of water, a blanket or pillow to hold on to because he still flinched at the slightest contact or just sitting close by so he wasn’t alone. Slowly but surely he began to open up and a tentative friendship was born with soft touches, small smiles and him sharing the little flashes of his life before Hydra. But you knew this couldn’t go on forever, he needed to decide what to do with his life. So you started mentioning the Captain America and Howling Commandos exhibit at the Smithsonian. And today he had finally gone.

“Come with me.” You couldn’t help giggling at the puzzlement adorning James’ face. It was a look he often wore when looking at you as if there was something about you he couldn’t figure out. You gestured to a black backpack which held your passport and your savings in. “James, you know I’ve saved up to go on a long vacation. Come with me. See the world. Learn who you are.”

The next few moments were all a blur. There was a sudden bang and smoke filled the apartment. Over the ringing in your ears you could hear some noise and when you looked up James was speaking to you but there was no sound. He was suddenly yanked away from you and you were also hauled to your feet as men dressed in black with large guns swarmed into your bedroom.

You barely registered the blade pressed to your throat as James was forced to kneel with his hands restrained behind his back. Both of you knew that he could break the restraints with laughable ease. But as you struggled to free yourself the hopelessness of the situation sank in. From what little you could understand there were reinforcements coming. James refused to leave without you. And the cold reality washed over you that you were going to die. But instead of worrying about your own life and trying to fight the inevitable, your concentration was the man who had such an impact on your life in such a short time.

Shame and defeat burned through Bucky. He had failed. To escape Hydra. To free himself. But most importantly he had failed to protect you who had done so much - risked so much - for him. His actions had led to this moment. They had almost certainly followed him from the museum. Bucky trembled as he met your gaze. Why did you look so apologetic? Bucky shook his head in reassurance and tried to brave a smile which caused yours to falter. He looked away guiltily.

“Longing.” It was breathed so softly that Bucky only heard it because of his enhanced hearing.

“Rusted.” Bucky’s skin began to crawl at the familiar words before he noticed the confused muttering in the room.

“Seventeen.”

Panic began to descend when his metal fingers flexed restlessly and his arm crackled. Bucky looked up to warn you, to hope you’d remember what he’d said but the words died in his throat. He had seen so many of your expressions - happiness, sadness, anger and even pity when he told you what little he could remember of his past lift and the torture he had been subjected to with Hydra. But to watch devastation and heartbreak twist your kind features as you used the words that he had taught you to beware and that he had dared hope to never hear again. His heart plummeted, not from betrayal but dread. You weren’t using them against him. You were using them for him.

Bucky struggled to fight his captors. Even as two goons dragged you into the adjacent room you continued to scream the words which sounded odd with your poor pronunciation but also in your sweet voice. Bucky roared as the cuffs snapped with a flick of each wrist and fought his way towards the door you had been herded through. The words still bled through the walls muffled but discernible to his ears. Screaming for you Bucky began to ram against the door.

As the whole wall seems to shudder from impacts on Bucky’s side you still reeled off his words that you remembered solely from memory. Tears streamed from your eyes as your heart shattered at Bucky’s pained cries for you. You only hoped that if he remembered this that one day he might realise your intentions. The last word had barely passed your lips before ending in a wet gurgle. One of the goons had stabbed you with a blade which now stuck out of your chest as you collapsed to the floor in a heap. When silence reigned through the space the second goon went to the door which then exploded in a shower of fragments and splinters and knocked him down. A familiar figure slowly stepped closer to the man who stabbed you. Though you knew this man he did not know you. His blue eyes were cold and remote.

“Soldargh!”

You watched the man squirm in the silver chokehold which slowly cut off his circulation and dropped him carelessly to the floor. Over the pounding in your head you heard a low mumble of Russian but it wasn’t until silver fingers glided along your wound that your attention moved back to your saviour. For a moment you thought that he might do something to end your suffering but instead he stared at you and you distantly realised he was waiting for instructions.

“Run.”

You weren’t sure if he understood but the slight dip in his brows was enough to show his recognition. Spluttering through the warm metallic liquid pooling in your mouth you lifted your leaden arm and pointed to the pack in the corner. There was a moment's hesitation before he walked over to the pack and picked it up before glancing at you when he heard your breathing become slow and shallow.

“Run. Don’t let them catch you.”

Your vision began to darken but you fought with every breath to watch as he tugged the bag over his shoulder. The last thing you saw before the darkness consumed you was a pair of blue eyes that you hoped would one day forgive you.

[bbyboybucket]

So I wrote up all this stuff weeks ago and drafted it and forgot about it until I seen these tags from @kahuna-burger

And they are absolutely right. And I’m so glad someone agrees with me on this analogy, because this is EXACTLY how I see him, and exactly what I get into below. This is the whole thing I was writing up previously:

“The winter soldier was treated like a living weapon.”

Mmm, yes. The whole living weapon thing is not a wrong metaphor. But I’d argue that there’s something else far more accurate (aka what the now added tags say).

He wasn’t their weapon. He was their dog. In such an uncanny way, almost literal sense. I wouldn’t even say a guard dog, I’d actually say he was Hydra’s hunting dog.

I mean think about it. Really. They actually treated him like a dog.

He wears a harness. He wears a fucking muzzle for gods sake.

But that’s just the bare minimum of similarities.

What do they do when he gets out of line? To punish him, to put make him obey and learn to fall back into good behavior? They shock him. Just like how people have always used shock collars and electric fences for dogs. When he’s been “bad”, when he does something he’s not supposed to, he gets shocked to correct that behavior.

They also smack him and get physical. People don’t do that with weapons. There’s no point in that. And you wouldn’t wanna damage or harm a weapon. But people do smack dogs. They hit their dogs when they don’t behave or do something wrong because harm, pain, and damage will teach it. Just like it teaches him. And they’ll heal so it’s not a concern.

He was trained to obey commands. Just like dogs. He does any little thing he’s told because he’s conditioned with a rewards system. He even has specific command words that trigger compliance. Just like you teach a dog to sit or roll over with trigger words, he has em too. I mean literally, he has a Pavlovian response to said words. And what was the original Pavlov experiment done on? A dog. The only difference is he doesn’t get physical treats. His treat is praise, which they manipulated him into being desperate for. They even go as far to incentivize him with this praise (think about the bank scene, where Pierce praises him), just like you would present a dog with a treat when you want it to do a trick. Hell, actually praise is a way you reward dogs too, because they listen and learn when you tell them they’re a “good boy, good dog”.

Hydra asserts their dominance over him just in case he turns on them, just to remind of who’s the “alpha”. Because they know (just like big dog owners) that he can tear them up, he can attack and shred them to pieces, but if he thinks he’s not the “alpha” then he’ll back down.

And yeah, he’s protective and reliant on his “owners” like most dogs would be. But like I said, not just a guard dog. A hunting dog. Because just like people teach their dogs to track down and go after bears, squirrels, dear, etc. he was also taught how to track down stuff to kill. Stuff that his owner wanted dead. That’s his whole purpose, to hunt for them.

Also, think about how Hydra obtained him. It’s like if a person saw an injured dog in a ditch, brought it to a vet to heal up, then took it home to have as their own pet. Because that’s exactly what they did with him. It’s just the owner was an abusive one.

He wasn’t treated like some expensive tank or powerful arsenal of guns. He was treated like well trained hunting dog.

[bucks-babe]

maybe angel!reader helping bucky thru a panic attack? like he thinks when he dies hes gonna suffer in hell for the stuff the winter soldier did and we calm him down and help him? u can add smut if u want but u dont have to !!

My Guardian, My Angel, My Love

Pairing: Bucky x angel!reader

Summary: For the first time Bucky gets to experience peace because of his sweet angel.

Word Count: 5.5k

Warnings: Angst?, actually a lot of angst, I don’t know how it got that way but it did, it gets happy though, fluff, smut (I can’t help myself), oral f!receiving, handjob, awkward sex talk, like really awkward, talk about heaven and dying, talk about life after death and immortality, angels based off of Supernatural but I changed a few things, blood, nearly dying, gunshots, reader doesn’t have a soul but can still love because I said so, reader knows when and how everyone dies but can’t tell them, reader has wings, 3rd person, age gap (reader is eons old), wings being a metaphor for sexual assault?, think Maleficent, no use of Y/N, so many emotions

A/N: This is not supposed to force any religion nor be an accurate representation of any religion. I din't go with panic attack, rather I had him almost die. I was feeling angsty

The moment Bucky’s knees hit the ground he knows it's over, that this is the end. He knew this was the way he would go out, on a mission, desperately trying to atone all his misdeeds. Tendrils of pain shot throughout his stomach, blood seeping through his fingers. When his side hit the ground, he knew it wouldn’t be too long before he went, limbs feeling too heavy. He couldn’t hear Steve screaming for help, scrambling for anything to stop the bleeding.

What Bucky did hear though, was a ruffle, almost like a flock of birds flying by, then a figure he’d never seen before stood above him. She’s here to take me. It didn’t strike Bucky as odd that she was the only thing that was clear, the rest of his view blurry and unfocused. He tried to speak, he really did, but no words came out, the breath leaving his lungs not enough to push any words out.

The woman crouches down, hand cupping his cheek with such softness tears leave his eyes, wiped away by Steve in the quinjet who seemingly can’t see her. “Close your eyes, my love. When you wake up, I’ll be there.” Fuck, this is really happening. Fear coursed through his body, scared of what punishment his sins earned him. I deserve to go to hell for what I’ve done. 

A guttural whine passes his lips; Steve chokes back sobs next to his lifelong friend. “Shh, none of that, now. I won’t let anything bad happen to you, I promise. You can rest now.” All at once, the pain is gone. Bucky feels like he’s floating - it’s wonderful.

Bucky has no problem opening his eyes. What the fuck? This is hell? Well damn. The most wonderful sound meets his ears - a giggle, soft and delicate. “No, my love, this is not hell and you’re not dead.” She comes into view. She’s gorgeous. Wait, I’m alive! Apparently, Bucky says that last part because Steve’s gasp enters his ears.

“Yeah, Buck, you’re alive. Gave us a scare though, didn’t uh, didn’t know if you would make it.” Bucky doesn’t respond right away, too busy looking around for his mystery woman, only to be met with the walls of the med bay. “Hey, I’m right here, Buck, look at me.” It’s not the woman, rather it’s Steve.

“How long was I out? What happened?”

“A few days. It was touch and go for some time but you bounced back. When we were on the mission, Hydra had a sniper posted outside. He got you right in the stomach.” Bucky could hear the emotion in Steve’s voice, the fear of losing his best friend still leaving him shaken up.

“Well, they’re a pretty shitty shot if you ask me. Could have gotten one right between the eyes with one of those shit guns we got in the war.” Steve coughs out a laugh, turning into a belly laugh a few seconds later. Bucky would laugh with him, but the bullet wound in his abdomen says he shouldn’t. He still doesn’t see the woman, though. Maybe I just made her up. 

A few days later, doctor Cho gives him the all clear to leave the med bay; however, he’s off duty for the foreseeable future and not any amount of his grumbling changed her mind. Still, Bucky hasn’t seen the woman. He feels a little crazy that he misses her, well crazier. 

Slowly, he makes his way to his room. Steve offered to help but Bucky wanted to do this on his own, having been tended to his whole stay in hospital. He puts in his password on the keypad Tony installed when Bucky first arrived, when the fear that Hydra would come back and take him was too much to bear. His room is the same way he left it, except for a woman on his bed. Not just any woman though, it was his mystery lady. 

Someone’s gonna have to put me in the cuckoo's nest. She laughs as if she can hear his thoughts. God, I hope not. “God has bigger things to worry about than such an inconspicuous fear as that, my love.” She sits up, facing him, the most beautiful smile gracing her lips.

“Can you hear my thoughts?” He feels like he already knows the answer, but asks anyway. If this woman is made up, of course she can read his mind. She just smiles and rises to her feet, walking over to him.

“What do you think, my love?” She tilts her head, a soft smile still resides on her lips. He feels so safe with her and she isn’t even real, just a figment of his imagination, a ruse to comfort himself in what he thought were his last moments. “I am very real, I’ll have you know.”

Bucky doesn’t know why, but he believes her. He believes this woman who showed up randomly on a field, who his best friend couldn’t see, and who disappeared without a trace. “How then? How did you do it?”

“Do what, my love?” She grabs his hand and leads him to the bed, helping him sit, finding a spot next to him.

“Save me, hear my thoughts, hide from Steve, disappear, get into my room, all of it. It’s not natural. Either you’re a ghost, or a mutant, or a reaper who was trying to take me. I don’t know, but you’re something.” Another laugh escapes her. He should be terrified of her, but he can’t find it in himself to be, her presence emanating calm.

“Well aren’t you a clever one? However, I’m none of those things nor did I save you. It just wasn’t your time yet. I’m an angel, though, to answer your question.” Bucky just stares, not believing her. This has to be a joke. “No joke, my love. If you want, I can prove it to you.” Bucky doesn’t even question why she calls him my love, the sound of it just too nice to stop.

Bucky just nods, words failing him. She rises to her feet, turning to stand in front of him. He hears them before he sees them, the same ruffle he heard as he lay dying. Then he sees them. A pair of dark wings coming from her back. She doesn’t spread them all the way, too big to fit in the small space of his room. “They’re black.” She throws her head back, a loud, beautiful laugh fills his ears. 

“That was your first thought? You don’t like them? Personally I think they’re quite nice.” It was the first thing that came to his mind, the rest blank. Maybe he should have asked for more proof, but he knows she would never lie to him. He doesn’t know how he knows, he just does. 

“I don’t know. I guess I just thought they’d be white. With the whole angel thing, you know?” She hums.

“There is a lot humans have wrong about us. I mean, plenty of us have white wings, but they come in many colors. If you can believe it, this isn’t even my true form.” Bucky is confused, she looks so real. A tangible human, someone he can touch.

“What is your true form then? Can I see it?” That’s a little personal to ask, dumbass.

“Well, that is a little complicated. Only one human has seen my true form and it didn’t go well. I thought she could handle it, but when she saw me, well let’s just say she couldn’t see from then on.” Bucky’s eyes widened, not expecting that answer. “Anything else you want to ask me?”

Her wings are still out, folded against her back. They look so soft. “Can I touch your wings?” Her wings shift slightly. If he wasn’t trained to observe everything and everyone, Bucky wouldn’t have known that she was uncomfortable. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. I didn’t know-”

“That’s okay. An angel’s wings are very personal. They’re sensitive and even for an ethereal being, it's very personal - intimate.”Clearing her throat, she changes the subject. “I know your name, my love. Might I say, it’s very pretty, but you don’t know mine.” Bucky picks up on her attempt to move his attention away from her wings.

“What is it then? I can’t call you angel forever, however fitting it may be.”

“Well I don’t exactly have a name. I’m a cherubim. The only angels who have names are the archangels, the first borns.”

It was Bucky’s turn to smile.”My little cherub.” She doesn’t tell him that cherub is the plural of cherubim. Until this day, Bucky didn’t know that angels could get shy, yet here his sweet cherub is, shying away from his piercing eyes. He bets if he felt her face he would feel the heat on them. “I have to ask though, my little cherub, why did you come to me?”

She became serious, staring right into his eyes. “Because God commanded it.”

“What does God want to do with me? Out of all the people in this world, he chose me?” A pained look crossed her face and she walked over to him, kneeling in front of him like he was her God. Her hands ran up his arms, goosebumps rising at the pass of her hands. He almost stopped breathing - he could feel her hand on his left arm. He hasn’t felt anything with that hand since he fell of that train.

Hands still rising, she cups his face with both hands, making him look into her eyes. “You don’t think you deserve to be saved.” It wasn’t a question. She knew. “That is why he sent me. He sent me because you deserve it. You deserve to let go.” At that moment, Bucky broke down. Sobbing uncontrollably, somehow without pain in his fresh wound.

She pulls him into her, wrapping her arms around him. His face buried in her neck, arms clutching her back. She hesitates for a second, no one having touched her wings in thousands of years, yet she cocoons him with them, shielding him from the world. It only makes Bucky cry harder, her wings holding every bit of softness he thought they would. The comfort she brings unlike any other he experienced before.

Her arms rub his back as she coos to him. Soft words spoken into his hair. “Shh, my love, I’m here. Nothing bad will ever happen to you again. I will die before I let that happen.” The conviction in her tone sets him off more, unable to comprehend someone would do that for him without a second thought. A being, older than he can even fathom, is ready to give it all away for a mesley human. A speck of dust in her life. His entire existence no longer than a second when compared to hers.

That’s how it was for a while, Bucky’s sweet cherub staying with him. At night she would wrap her wings around him, keeping him safe. Bucky knows that her powers are the reason his nightmares are gone. At first he was glad that he could finally sleep, but then the guilt crept in. Why should he be allowed to forget the horrors he committed? Their families didn’t get that condolence. 

When he told her this she wasn’t having any of it, wings jerking in annoyance. It was something that he picked up on, how when she experienced emotions her wings would move in different ways, always giving her away. 

“I swear, my love, you’re going to make my wings turn gray with all this. I have lived a long life, longer than you can comprehend, so when I tell you that I have seen the best and the worst of this world, I mean it. And you, my love, are a good man. There is a reason God sent me to you.” Her wings surrounded him and he felt himself relax. “There is no quest to send you on, no mission that the world hangs in the balance of. It’s just you. A man who needs to see the good in himself.” Bucky hangs his head in shame, not meeting her eyes.

“You think your purpose is suffering for the things you couldn’t control? My purpose is to save you. My love,” she cups his face in her hands, wiping away the tears he didn’t know had formed, “I have done far worse things in my life. Horrific things, yet I’m here right now, with you. Please, let me take your pain away.”

None of this was easy for Bucky. No one has ever had their sole purpose be him. Back in the forties he took care of Steve, he stepped up when his father left. When he was no longer the Winter Soldier, Steve helped him, but Steve’s care never felt like this. Bucky knows that he’s fallen in love with her. He knows that she knows, but what he doesn’t know is if she feels the same.

What he doesn’t know is that she is fighting the same battle, the feeling of love is one she has never had before. It all came to a head one night, Bucky wrapped in her wings, her head on his chest. “Cherub?” She felt the vibrations in his chest.

“Yes, my love.”

“You said that we could be together for the rest of my life, right?” She did say that when he was worried that she would leave him after her mission was complete.

“I did.” One thing about her is that she never gave long answers to questions, not used to having to talk with humans.

“What happens when I die? Where will I go? I want you to be there with me.”

She sighed, thinking about how to convey her words properly. “When you die… you’ll go to heaven. It has already been decided. If you choose, when you go, I will be there with you for the rest of our existence, but you don’t have to make a decision now. My body will age with yours, follow you to the end of your life. When your time comes, we will leave and go to heaven where we will both be young again.”

Without hesitation Bucky answers, “I want that. I want you to be with me for the rest of eternity.” There was no doubt in his mind. Even though he met her a few months ago, he knew. “I have to ask, what is heaven like?”

She sits up a bit, shifting to lay on his chest, wings still cocooning them, keeping them in their own little bubble. “There is no one heaven. Not everyone who ever went there is in the same place. Heaven is made up of small pockets of personal heavens. People who lost their loved ones meet again, your happiest memories are relived, there is no pain or sorrow, you can have anything you want.”

Bucky felt the pull of his chest, emotion bubbling up. “Is my ma there? And Becca?” The words come out thick, a lump forms in Bucky’s throat. “Please, don’t lie to me.”

She looks into his eyes. “Yes, they are. They’re together and they’re waiting for you. I have seen them myself, right before I left to meet you. They talk very highly of you, my love.”

Tears fall from his face, the pain in his chest all the time at the greatest loss of his life eased slightly. “Can I talk to them?” He knows it's a long shot, but if there is a chance he wants it.

“I’m so sorry, my love, but I can’t. Even I don’t have the power to do that. If I could, I would.” A pained whine leaves his lips. “Hey, you know who is waiting for you too?” She waits a beat before speaking anyway. “Your dog from when you were a kid. He’s in his prime, always will be. His days are spent chasing rabbits around the yard.”

“Balto’s up there too?” A small smile graced his face, crows feet appearing by his eyes.

“Yeah. If it is any consolation, time passes differently up there. The longing you feel right now for them, they feel the same only it’s made easier by us.” Bucky only nods, staring into her eyes, seeing nothing but truth. His eyes flicker to her lips and back up. “You can, my love, I want you to.”

That was all Bucky needed to hear. Gently cupping her cheek, he guided her lips to his. There was no rush, no sense of urgency. They had all the time in the world and then some. Bucky never felt anything this good in his life and he was only kissing her. When she licked his lips, he opened mouth without a thought, brain clouded with love just for her. 

He moaned into the kiss, the feeling of her tongue on his incredible. At his sound, Bucky felt her wings flutter under him. Breaking the kiss, he giggled. Bucky actually giggled. She reared her head back, slightly affronted by his laugh when she just kissed him.

“I’m sorry, my little cherub, it’s just that your wings tickled me.” She huffs and a second later, her wings are gone the only sign they were ever out is the small black feather on the bed. “No, cherub, don’t put them away. I love them.” She wasn’t really offended, but she wanted to tease him a bit.

Her wings were always out around Bucky, comfortable enough to reveal the most intimate and personal part of herself to him. He was the first human in thousands of years to touch them, but he was the only one to be wrapped in them. The only time they were touched was when a man cut them off her back. It was a time when she trusted humans, not knowing the atrocities they were capable of. 

Her wings were white then, when she was pure and unknowing of the hate humans possessed. God crafted her a new pair. Of course she accepted them, but her feathers turned black, scared she looked to her father. When he said that it was because of the wrongs his creations did, it broke something in her, took away her purity, teaching her a lesson. Father never blamed her for it, he knew she would heal with time. It was part of the reason he sent her to the man she lays in bed with.

Bucky didn’t know this, he didn’t know how much she was betrayed by humans, only for her to trust him and him alone. She playfully glares at him before bringing her wings back out, sitting up on his lap. Gently, more gentle than he has been in years, Bucky reaches out to touch them. She lets him feel them whenever he wants, even wrapping him in them as he sleeps, but this was a completely different setting.

She was so vulnerable at this moment. Her wings flapped, a nervous tick of her’s, making Bucky pull away immediately. “Cherub, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” She swallows before meeting his eyes.

“It’s not that I don’t want you to touch them. It’s just that only one other human has touched them. There was a time where I was naive and innocent, not knowing what humans were capable of.” She pauses and Bucky sits up, back against the headboard and laces his fingers with hers, feeling the softness on his metal hand.

“It was a man, he had a family, a kid and a wife. They struggled to survive, trading their valuables for a slice of bread. Father sent me to help them, take away their sorrows. Said he was an honest man trying to make an honest living.” Bucky senses where her story is going, hoping that it doesn’t end the way he fears, but the pain in her eyes is palpable, a human emotion angels almost never experience.

He waits for her to continue, not forcing her to speak. “At first, they were grateful, having everything they needed. They had their health, food on the table, but the man grew greedy. He wanted more. One day, as I was watching his child in a field, keeping her safe from the horrors of the world, he snuck behind me with a sword he got from a blacksmith, sharper than any blade. He-he cut my wings right off my back.”

Tears fell from her eyes, not having relived that moment for thousands of years. Bucky felt his heart physically ache. She was sent to heal him, but it was his turn to do the same. “You know, my wings used to be white?” She looks into his eyes, red with tears. “When he hurt me, Father took me back to heaven, crafting me another pair. They were white but when he gave them to me, they turned black.”

A whine leaves her lips and Bucky pulls her into him, careful not to touch her wings. “Oh, my sweet little cherub, I’m here and I won’t let anyone hurt you again. I’ve never felt as content as I have with you, never so happy and I will do anything to keep you safe. I love you, no matter what you have done, I’ll still love you.” This only made her cry harder. Human emotions were foreign to her, but spending so much time with Bucky caused her to develop them. It was almost overwhelming, going from not having anything to having so much fill her body.

“Father said that it was because the man took my innocence, showed me the evil of the world. I’ve never seen him apologize for anything, yet that day he was broken, realizing that his creations, even the ones he thought were good, are capable of unspeakable atrocities. They will never turn white again because I’m ruined.” Tears welled up in Bucky’s eyes. His sweet cherub thinking she is anything less than perfect breaks his heart.

“My cherub, you saved me, now let me do the same for you. Let me heal you like you have me.” Leaning back slightly, she took his hands in her own, drawing them up her waist to her back, moving them to touch her wings. At his touch, she gasped, eyes closing forcing more tears to cascade down her face. The feeling of his gentle hands, hands that have done so much harm, resting on the most violated part of her body was something she never thought would happen.

She didn’t know she could love until she met Bucky, finally placing a word to the indescribable warmth that spreads throughout her body every time she thinks of him. “I love you too, my love. Forever and ever, til you die, til the end of time, in heaven and on earth.” They were both crying, neither experiencing the tenderness of love before.

He brings her down, kissing her with as much passion as he possibly could, tasting the mixture of both of their tears. Her arms clutching onto him, trying to get closer. He did the same, one hand running across her wings like he was trying to wash away the taint of betrayal his kind caused. 

Shifting on his lap, she feels the bulge of his cock, half hard pressed up against her. Gasping, she pulls away. “Cherub, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean, it just-.” She silences him with her lips, drawing a groan from him, subconsciously grinding down onto him. “Cherub, we have to stop, I don’t want to take advantage of you. You’re vulnerable right now, I can’t do that to you.”

Her hips stutter on his. “My love, I want to, I need to. Need to be closer to you, please grant me this.” His hands run up and down her sides, soothing the heat of her skin.

“Any time you want to stop, or don’t like something, you tell me. Okay? This is about me showing you how perfect you are.” She nods, kissing him one more time. Bucky’s hands slide up her shirt, resting on her soft skin, palms feeling the goosebump under his touch. Looking up at her for permission to take her shirt off, she nods.

Bucky did that with every piece of clothing, every move he made. Soon they were both naked, her wings splayed out on the bed, twitching in a way he never saw before - arousal. “My, my love, I have to tell you something.” He pulls his eyes away from her wings to look into her eyes. “I’ve never done this before. Angels, we don’t do this, I don’t know what to feel right now.” 

Hands cupping her cheeks, he smiles at her, relaxing into his touch. “Do you feel safe?” She nods. “Do you feel like you have to do this for me?” She shakes her head. “Do you want me to please you?” She nods once again. “We don’t have to do anything with this,” he gestures to his throbbing erection. 

“I want to, I just need you to show me what to do.” The thought that she trusts him enough to take care of her makes his cock pulse, aching for some type of relief.

“Let me make you feel good, okay? All you have to do is lay back and tell me how it feels.” She nods her head in understanding, worries slowly fading away. He kisses down her body, taking the time to swirl his tongue around his sensitive nipples, grinning at the small gasp it draws from his cherubs lips.

Going further down, his face is right in front of her pussy, smelling her intoxicating scent. “Keep your eyes on me, cherub.” She gulps. For a minute, Bucky just stares at her pussy, breathing her in, memorizing how wet she is before his tongue flicks out onto her clit. 

“Oh, that feels good. Can you do it again?” She was so sweet, asking so kindly for him to deliver her pleasure.

“Of course I can.” And with that, Bucky dives into her pussy, restraining himself from devouring her. He groans into her cunt, already addicted to her taste, the moans she lets out are soft and breathy, yet it’s one of the most beautiful things he's ever heard, only competition being her laugh.

“My love, I don’t, what is happening to me?” Bucky pulls away from her cunt, reaching up to lace their hands together. 

“Just let that feeling wash over you. It’s okay, I’ll catch you when you fall, I’m here.” He goes right back to her pussy, lapping her juices up, eyes boring into hers. She was twitching on the bed, hips bucking up to meet his tongue. Bucky chuckles when he sees her wings flap, not knowing what to do with the pleasure coursing through her.

Her orgasm comes as a surprise to her, never experiencing one before, nor knowing what they were. Her eyes shoot open, wings beating wildly, body almost convulsing on the soft sheets. Bucky pulls away, not trying to overstimulate her. He almost cums at the sight of her, it was the most beautiful thing he has ever seen.

It takes her a while, but she comes down, wings falling limp on the bed as Bucky crawls up her body, resting in between her legs. “My love, what was that? I thought I was about to die.” 

Barking out a laugh, Bucky leans down. “That was an orgasm, sweet cherub. How did it feel?” She whines, not able to put what she felt into words.

“Like nothing I have ever felt before. It was incredible.” Her eyes close. Bucky is perfectly happy to hold her, not caring about his own orgasm, but her eyes shoot open, wide and curious. “Can you have one, too?”

Another laugh leaves him. “Yes, cherub, I can. It’s a little different from yours though.” Her eyes squint in confusion, clearly not understanding what could be different. “Well, for one, what I have looks a little different to yours, doesn’t it?” She nods. Bucky never thought he would be giving “The Talk” to an angel, but here he was. “When I have an orgasm, stuff comes out of this tip, right here.” He grabs his cock to show her. 

“Can I see it? How do I make you do that?” It was Bucky’s turn to be surprised. 

“Cherub, you don’t have to do that.” Her glare is enough to make Bucky continue. “Um, there are a few different ways. I could put it inside of you, that feels good for you too.”

“In where?” Bucky huffs, not in annoyance, but this talk is turning him off. Not that he’s mad at that, but the conversation feels like talking to a child, someone who hasn’t experienced anything sexual and it wasn’t exactly turning him on, it felt wrong to have this talk naked.

“In this hole right under where I was touching you. There is another one under that, but it’s different from the other. Or your mouth, but also a hand. Pretty much anything that could rub against that area.” Bucky felt his cheeks heat up. His cock was going soft right in front of her eyes.

“Can I do one? I want to see you orgasm.” Her eyes were so bright and eager, he couldn’t say no to his cherub. He nods, only for her to glance down at his soft cock. “Why is it smaller now? I think it’s kind of cute.”

This has to be the most embarrassing thing that has ever happened to him. No woman has ever called his dick cute, or made a comment on its size when soft. He gets compliments on how big he is when he’s hard, but soft is a different story. He’s a grower not a shower. He has to admit, his encounter is damaging his ego a bit. “It gets bigger when I’m aroused, but if it’s not touched it gets softer.” He’s lying straight through his teeth, he can stay hard for hours without touching his dick.

“If you touch it, it gets big again.” She switches positions, having him on his back, resting between his legs, face right next to his cock. He feels himself twitch and she jerks her head in surprise, giggling at her own reaction. She begins to almost pet him, it feels good but not what he needs.

He reaches down, guiding her hand to gather the precum at his tip, slowly pulling it back down, tightening her grip on his dick. “Oh, wow, it’s getting bigger. It’s so hard.” Her amazement at something so simple as a dick getting hard is endearing. 

Bucky grunts when he twists her hand. “I liked that sound.” Her words make him groan again, cock all the way hard. His hips buck into her hand and he lets her hand go, trusting her to keep her pace. It’s slow but firm, driving him insane. He wants her to go faster, harder, but this is about her, letting her discover at her own pace.

“Spit on the tip, it’ll make it easier to move.” She does so without hesitation. Bucky’s head flies back into the headboard, moaning at her soft hands working his cock. “Just like that, cherub, you’re doing so good. This feels incredible.” Bucky meant every word of it. Her hand honestly felt better than the full blown sex he’s had in the past. Maybe it was because he loved her with all his heart, or maybe it was because she was an angel, either way, Bucky didn’t have it in himself to care.

“You look so pretty like this, my love. I love this, making you feel good.” Bucky’s hips pick up speed, feeling his orgasm building up in the base of his cock. 

“Cherub, I’m going to cum. Please keep going just like that.” She figures he means orgasm since he is jerking just like she was. The urge to make him orgasm was almost too much to bear, wanting him to show her how beautiful he was when he lets go. “Oh, cherub, I’m about to, oh fuck.” He moans long and loud, cum spurting out of his tip. She gasps at the force of it but doesn’t let up her pace. She had never seen anything more beautiful than her love in this moment.

He has to stop her, not knowing that he needed a break. “Love, I want to make you do that again.” She scoops some of his cum off his stomach with her finger and just stares at it.

“You can taste it if you’d like.” She eagerly licks her fingers, eyes bulging at his taste, dropping down to lick the rest of it off his body. “Come here, cherub.” He pulls her into a kiss, tasting himself on her tongue. He pulls the cover over their bodies, her wings instinctively wrapping around him.

“Thank you, my love, for always taking care of me. I was sent to save you, yet I feel that it’s the other way around.” Bucky doesn’t think so. He knows that she saved him. They fall asleep together and in the morning they will find that her wings are just a bit lighter than the night before.

[antiquarianfics]

Taken pt. 10

If Bucky Barnes could time travel, he would go back to that morning. He would hold you a little tighter in his arms, and he would kiss you a little deeper. He would pull your daughter in between the two of you, letting her giggle as loudly as she wants whilst her parents kiss her cheeks and tickle her belly. If Bucky Barnes could time travel, he would have told you not to go to the park—to go anywhere else. But Bucky Barnes can’t time travel, and his wife and daughter are gone.

a/n: sorry for the hiatus. here’s this. it’s not proofed. yay!

warnings: swearing, blackmail, mention of murder, themes of conspiracy, canon typical violence.

note: I do not own the character Bucky Barnes or any other Marvel affiliated characters. Any and all characters are a work of fiction and any likeness to real persons is wholly unintentional.

You do not have permission to copy, translate, or repost my work; however, feel free to like, comment, and reblog.

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“Well, my targets are gone,” you sigh, glancing down the hallway you had seen Steve run. You click your tongue and return your focus to Bucky, shaking your head slightly.

“Sorry, honey,” you say, knocking him out.

—

Bucky comes to with a groan, sitting up from his position on the floor, a hand holding his head. He blinks a couple of times, scanning the room for any sign of you. You’re nowhere to be found. Shaking his head, he pulls himself off the ground, and starts heading to the meetup spot he and Steve had agreed on months ago in case Becca had to be taken somewhere safe.

As Bucky travels, he replays the conversation he’d had with you. Why the hell would you bring up a Greek myth? He struggles to make any sense of it, but then his brain picks out a particular part of your story:

“Orpheus didn’t get a second chance to save Eurydice. Zeus killed Orpheus because he was afraid Orpheus would tell the humans all the secrets of the Underworld. Some versions say that the Muses kept his head, though, to sing songs forever. They managed to hear his voice even after he died.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Don’t turn around, James.”

Your warning—“Don’t turn around, James”— was certainly a code. After all, if you had struck a deal with Frost, and if you were working with HYDRA, then you were probably being watched, listened to. You couldn’t speak freely. But why Orpheus and Eurydice? Why that story?

“Don’t turn around, James.”

Orpheus turned around… Why is that important?

“Don’t turn around, James.”

“This has to be a metaphor for us,” Bucky thinks. “Does she mean I’m Orpheus, then? Eurydice was trapped in the Underworld… Y/N is trapped by HYDRA… Does she mean to stop looking for her? Or does she mean to trust she has a plan? That she knows what she’s doing?”

Zeus killed Orpheus because he was afraid he would tell all the secrets of the Underworld.

Then, it clicked. Bucky isn’t sure exactly what it is that changed how he interpreted your story, but, suddenly, everything made sense:

1. Chance one to save Y/N: Russia. I didn’t save her. I only saved Becca. She is saying I don’t get another chance to try for her.

2. Y/N is picking off people Frost is afraid will come between him and HYDRA. Right now, I’m not apart of that list. Proof: She let me go. If I attempt a second rescue, she will have no choice; they will tell her to take me out. Besides that, they will certainly threaten Becca, and we agreed when she was born that Becca always comes first.

3. The muses kept his head? They won’t kill me. She doesn’t want me to come after her because they will just capture me. She won’t give me up, but she’s more likely to slip up if it comes to me. A slip up is more likely to lead to… They’ll wipe me. She doesn’t want me to come after her because they’ll wipe me if they capture me.

Bucky sighs as he arrives at the rendezvous he and Steve had agreed on. He feels a little better now that he understands more of what you were saying, but he still feels like there is a piece of the puzzle missing.

—

The team goes into hiding. You had revealed a lot about the dangers of HYRDA’s plans, but they still know so little. The team knew you had targets—important targets—that you were being forced to eliminate. They discerned the targets were people HYDRA feel are threats against their mission, but they still don’t have a definite list.

“We’re sitting ducks!” Tony shouts angrily into the room.

“Stark,” Fury says gravely, “watch it.”

“I’m sorry, but we are. We have no new intel. HYDRA is AWOL. The world is looking at us to do something, and we’ve got nothing.”

“Buck,” Steve says, “did Y/N say anything else that might give us a clue as to who she’s after?”

Bucky sighs, thinking back over the whole interaction from the moment you got there to the moment you knocked him out. It was as he replayed your conversation on the roof that it clicked: the missing puzzle piece. Bucky meets Steve’s eyes.

“She told me who she’s after.”

“Well?” Tony questions impatiently. “Who?”

“When I met her on the roof,” Bucky says, “Y/N told me she was marking 3 names off her list. That means her next three targets were in the Compound.”

“FRIDAY,” Tony says, “get me a list of every person who was in the Compound at the time of the break in.” FRIDAY responds in the affirmative.

“Then,” Bucky continues, “she asked me…” Bucky trails off as he tries to remember how exactly you worded the question. “She asked me: ‘You’re not all that close to Captain America, are you?’

“I thought it was weird how she worded that. I’ve known Steve longer than anyone, and it was weird she called him ‘Captain America.’ But that was her clue. HYDRA has no problem with Steve Rogers—”

“But Captain America has been ruining their plans since the ‘40s,” Steve says, arms crossed as he puts together what Bucky is saying. Bucky nods.

“So the other two targets have to have been in the Compound at the time of the attack, and they have to be people that have significantly messed with HYDRA somehow,” Sam thinks aloud.

Bucky thought. Who else could HYDRA consider a threat to their cause? Who else has been foiling HYDRA’s plans time after time? Bucky scanned the room, eyes carefully considering each person. It could be any of the Avengers, he thought, but then you would likely have more than 3 targets. His eyes settle on Fury. Bingo.

“Fury’s a target.”

All eyes are on Bucky.

“How you figure?” Someone asks. Bucky doesn’t clock who, his mind still attempting to fit puzzle pieces together.

“Captain America is an obvious choice. It can’t be another Avenger because you’ve done equal damage to their cause. It’s not me because they don’t want me dead—I’m valuable to them. But Fury? Fury created the Avengers. Fury is the leader. He’s also the director of SHIELD: HYDRA’s number 1 obstacle. It makes sense.”

Fury hums in agreement. “Rogers and I make the most sense. We still have a third target to identify, though.”

Bucky nods in acknowledgment, but his eyes settle on Coulson beside Fury.

“Coulson.”

Coulson’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise, as if he never would have expected he could be so important to Bucky. He swallows and composes himself, and when he speaks, he is calm, confident.

“I do make sense. My team and I have given HYDRA a real headache, and, like Fury, I’m the leader.”

—

With a list of targets that the team was agreed upon and confident in, it was time for a plan. They’d been idle too long. The plan is simply to get you back first, stop HYDRA second, but the way Bucky see is it, you are crucial to Frost’s plan. If they get you, Frost will be scrambling.

“Okay, team,” Steve says into a huddle. “Stick to the plan. The tip we sent out says I’ll be on a solo recon mission, so they’ll be waiting. Y/N will be waiting.

The goal is to get Y/N and bring her home.”

“And we’re sure she’s not just going to kill you?” Sam asks, facetiously. Bucky scowls.

“We have to hope that she really is just playing HYDRA’s game to stay alive,” Steve says solemnly.

—

“Any sign of her?” Natasha asks into the coms.

“No,” Clint says.

“Redwing and I got nothing,” Sam says.

The coms go silent as the team waits. Steve carefully walks through the hallways of the abandoned HYDRA facility. He’s careful—he half expects you to step out of nowhere and shoot at him.

He turns the corner into what appears to be the facility’s security room. Computer monitors line the walls, each showing different hallways or facility entrances. The room is bland and dark except for the monitors and the light emitting from them.

Steve’s eyes take in the security footage, the room, and the woman sitting in a large desk chair in front of the monitors, legs propped up on the desk the security equipment rests on.

“Y/N?” Steve asks.

“You found her?” Bucky asks quickly, heartbeat picking up. He had been ordered to stay behind in the quinnjet, but if Steve found you, he’s leaving.

“Hi, Cap,” you say pleasantly. “Been a while.”

“You tried to kill me a week ago.”

You frown. “You still mad about that?”

Steve scoffs. “Y/N, what’s going on?”

“What’s going on, Captain America,” a third voice chimes in, “is the fall of the Avengers, of SHIELD, and the rise of HYDRA.”

“Frost,” Steve says, presuming he’s meeting the “mastermind” behind the whole endeavor.

“Captain Rogers,” Frost says with an over animated grin. “A pleasure!”

Steve turns back to you, ignoring Frost’s greeting. “You missed.”

“I won’t miss this time,” you say, the corner of your mouth twitching.

“I don’t doubt it,” Steve replies. “I’ve never known you to miss. Best sniper on the team.”

“Steven,” you say, an edge to your voice that confuses Steve. He opens his mouth to answer, but the sound of a gun cocking beats him to it.

Behind Steve, and then behind Frost, stands Bucky; he has a gun to Frost’s head. It’s clear that Bucky had snuck up on him.

“Well! Isn’t it nice of you to join us, Sergeant Barnes,” Frost says. “I just love a little family reunion. Tell me, how is the Mini Asset? Hmm?”

Still holding the gun to Frost’s head with his right hand, Bucky’s left hand goes around Frost’s throat.

“Watch it.”

“Buck, we need him alive,” Steve warns. Bucky releases Frost’s neck. However, in the small amount of time that this interaction took place, Frost had, unbeknownst to the three of you, snuck something out of his pocket.

“Well, this has been fun. I’m sure we will meet again soon,” Frost’s tone is sardonic. “Just know, Captain Rogers, Sergeant Barnes, that you may have gotten your little bitch back today, but this is far from over. HYDRA will rise again. SHIELD will fall.”

Then, Frost throws what he had pulled from his pocket to the ground and smoke quickly billows up into the room, filling your lungs and making you cough. You hear footsteps—Frost running. He must have taken Bucky by surprise, too.

When the smoke clears, you face your husband and run into his arms for the first time since being kidnapped.

—

After being rescued from Frost, Bucky and the team take you back to the Avengers’ makeshift headquarters. They (with profuse apologies) blindfold you on the way so that you’re not able to leak any information if you have actually turned against them, or accidentally give something away if HYDRA is watching somehow.

“I’m sorry, Doll. Y’know I trust you with my life, but we gotta be sure,” Bucky says. You rest your hand on his and squeeze.

“It’s fine. I understand.”

Upon your arrival to the HQ, you’re taken to an interrogation room where Fury and Coulson ask you about the kidnap, the torture, the deal you struck, HYDRA’s plans, and everything else up to your rescue. They hook you up to a lie detector machine, even, and ask you if you are working with HYDRA, if you had gone dirty.

“I promise I only did what I had to survive and to keep my daughter alive. I had to do what HYDRA asked. They’re everywhere. They’re within SHIELD, even. I didn’t know who could hurt her,” you swore.

When Fury and Coulson are finally finished interrogating you, they tell you they think you have a chance of being acquitted. You were a prisoner of war, and, surely, the U.S. government would see that. However, until then, you were in SHIELD’s custody and to be locked up. You agree without protest.

As you’re walking out of the interrogation room, hands cuffed in front of you, you see Bucky holding a sleeping Becca in his arms waiting for you. Your eyes widen.

“What is she doing here?” You panic.

Bucky frowns. “I thought you might want to see her. She misses you.”

“Bucky, if she sees me right now, what will she think? I’m handcuffed. The last time she…” You trail off. “I don’t want to see her. Just… put her to bed. Give her a kiss for me. Tell her I love her. Don’t bring her by my cell.”

Bucky says nothing as a couple SHIELD agents lead you away.

—

It takes 2 months for you to be acquitted. You stay locked up in a SHIELD cell, refusing to see your daughter, barely speaking to anyone for 2 months. When you are finally acquitted, it is because a private grand jury hears your testimony, Becca’s testimony, and the testimony of the Avengers’, security and personnel from the White House there the night you assassinated the president, and the families of the deceased. The ordeal is heart wrenching. You are sentenced to a year of probation (including not going on missions as an Avenger) and weekly court mandated therapy, but you are free.

When the judge tells you, “Mrs. Y/N L/N-Barnes, you’re a free woman,” you let out a sob and feel yourself yanked into a firm chest that you’d recognize anywhere: Bucky.

“You’re okay, sweetheart. You’re coming home.”

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@just-henny @jasminocano @browneyedgirl22-blog @barnesboo1967 @matchat3a @unkasworld @qwertyb2577 @raajali3 @yoruse @iilsenewman @alysianc @fairytalegirlofurdreams @marvelxlevram @casa-boiardi @buckybraneslover111 @hhiggs @smolracoon25 @questionableratatouille00 @heytheredemonsitsyourgirl @thearieunhinged @sebastianstansource @middaystarlight @talesofadragon @killerwendigo @ozwriterchick @kandis-mom

[gfthe-fearsome-foursome]

Ford, question to you: What is your opinion on FNAF?

“Five Nights at Freddy’s? Oh, don’t get me started unless you want a full lecture! It’s not just jump scares and creepy animatronics— it’s a labyrinthine masterpiece of storytelling layered with metaphor and a mystery that would make even the sharpest detectives rip their hair out! God knows figuring out the games had me in knots for weeks!"

"First off, think about the concept of survival: you’re this helpless security guard, stuck in a tiny office, forced to fend off animatronics that are more than just spooky mascots— seriously! You could take it literally or look at them as manifestations of guilt, regret, and unresolved trauma! The entire franchise is a thesis on consequences."

"Take the lore— oh, the lore!— a deep dive into the psyche of William Afton, this utterly complex character who’s not just a villain, but the embodiment of obsession and self-destruction. His crimes? Literal and metaphorical ghosts that haunt him, and us! The animatronics aren’t just killer robots; they’re the spirits of lost children, seeking justice or revenge, depending on how you look at it."

"Then there’s the pizzeria itself— it’s a façade! A cheerful place masking a horror show beneath, symbolizing how people bury dark truths under layers of fun and nostalgia. Oh, and don’t forget the sheer meta brilliance! The player, stuck in a cycle of fear and repetition, mirrors the inescapable guilt and failure of the story’s characters!"

"And the theories! Goodness, the theories! Are the crying child and the bite victim the same? How do we solve Foxy's puzzle in the employee logbook? How does the timeline even fit together? Scott Cawthon has turned this franchise into a living, breathing conspiracy board where every detail— a picture on the wall, a snippet of dialogue— could be the key to unraveling the story, or just a red herring to mess with us!"

"And symbolically? The series plays on humanity’s innate fear of being watched, of losing control, and of the monsters lurking in the places we thought were safe. It’s a chef’s kiss of psychological horror, capitalist critique, and existential dread! And don’t even get me started on the music box motif— pure genius, the way it ties time, tension, and inevitability together."

"I even started playing piano again to learn the score of Georges Bizet's "Les Toreadors"! It's where Freddy's jingle comes from— but that's not important!"

"Every detail is meticulously crafted, and the Internet? Oh, the theories there are like a hydra— cut one down, and three more pop up! FNaF isn’t just a game; it’s a modern mythos, a digital ghost story that keeps evolving, daring us to piece together the puzzle while it stares us down with glowing eyes from the shadows!”

"Oh! Uhm— sorry! I think I may have gone a bit overboard... I hope this answers your question though!"

Blank template under the cut in case anyone wants to use it LOL

[jujutsukatsuki]

Burning House || B.Barnes

|| it’s been a while, hi <3 ||

|| Tw: mentions of cigarettes, depression and Bucky being sad ): ||

His eyes were dead as he stared at her from across the meeting table. She watched Fury talk. She could feel his eyes digging holes in her skull but there was nothing she could do. They were once in love and yet, here they were. Broken up but on the same team still.

As her eyes shifted to him, he looked away. She let out a sigh as Fury dismissed the group. Y/n left as quickly as she came.

“Y/n.” He said and grabbed her arm, he spun her to face him.

“W-“ She felt the cold metal of his hand on her lips as his eyes searched hers for something. Anything.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered. He couldn’t bring himself to say more, his voice caught in his throat with all the thoughts that swarmed his brain. His hand slowly fell away as Bucky let out a gentle shy. She could smell the coffee, cigarettes and toothpaste on his breath.

Y/n sat frozen as Bucky walked off quickly. She sucked her teeth as she walked off, trying to get the imagine of him out of her head. They had broken up because Bucky couldn’t hand her love. How strongly she believed in him, when he barely believed in himself.

She went home that night and lit one of her candles, it was his favorite scent. She stared at the flame that flicked due to how empty the candle was. Y/n was sure it was some stupid metaphor for her heart. She wondered if he could feel her right now. Feel how much she missed him.

A knock on her door pulled her from her depressive thoughts as she missed Bucky. Not just as her boyfriend. But her best friend. Her partner in crime. Her everything.

She looked out the peephole and saw Bucky. She undid the latch and opened the door.

“Bu-“ There was that cold metal on her mouth again

“Don’t say anything. I want to kiss you.” He breathed out and stared at her. She nodded and his hand fell asleep as he leaned down and kissed her, hands cradling her head. He kicked the door closed and walked her back to the couch, lips smushed together like they were glued.

They lost track of how many hours they sat like that on the couch together, just holding each other and sharing kisses over and over.

“Are you tired?” He whispered against her lips.

“No.” She said before kissing him again.

He couldn’t help himself as his mind drifted off, was this who he was meant to be? A good man who helped the world and allowed himself to be loved by a woman who looked at him like he drew the stars? He looked over to the sleeping form. He leaned foreword and pressed a kiss to her bare shoulder.

Bucky thought of how he’d be if hydra never happened. If you existed in the 40’s or him in the present day. No hydra. No super heroes. No winter solider memories. Before all the bad things.

The next morning, She put on his shirt and made him breakfast. His hands on her hips, kissing the back of her head. Just how it was before he freaked out and burnt the house down. His touch was so gentle.

Y/n glanced over her shoulder and smiled as he looked down at her. Bucky was running back into this full force. He needed her. He needed someone to believe in him when he couldn’t. James needed someone who’d love him when he could barely pull himself from his bed.

He was doing this for her. For himself. For the sake of the relationship. He owed it to himself to not run when things felt hard.

“Y/-“ Her hand was over his mouth this time.

“Hush. I know.” She leaned up and kissed him, arms around his neck, his hands snaked around her waist as he pulled her close to him. The warmth from her body made him feel loved.

“I love you.” He whispered for the first time ever.

“I love you too James.” Her smile made the frosty exterior of his heart melt. In that moment, nothing mattered. It was just them together. Forever.

[katuschka]

Olalla Chapter Nine

Josh Kiszka x f!OC x Jake Kiszka 5.569 words

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, intended for adult readers. Any resemblance to real persons is purely coincidental. Also, if you're under 18, go find some other entertainment elsewhere.

Warnings (are spoilers): phone sex, masturbation, LGBT themes, mentions of infidelity, anxiety, betrayal&trust issues, secrets, overall a healthy dose of emotional shit as always

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Previous chapter Olalla masterpost

Over the mountains, woods and valleys two guys fought with shepherd's axes. Hey guys! Stop fighting! The girl has two braids; you can share!

November 2025; Josh 

He stood silent, but the contents of his mind were full of roaring memories of moments similar to this one. He could hear his younger and more carefree self shouting, almost as if someone played it in his in-ear. Can you feel iiiiiiit?

Exhilaration, stage fright, happiness, fear, anticipation…

All the emotions crammed into that fleeting, magical moment that lasts just a few seconds before everything bursts. The moment which ALL the souls and hearts in the large arena shared as one. He couldn’t see them yet, but their cries reverberated through the walls on their way from the green room to the stage and the volume reached the deafening level as soon as the band’s silhouettes appeared behind the semi opaque curtain.

There was no speech this time, no pre-recorded intro; just the sound of Sam’s Hammond organ that first started as a feeble hum, barely audible in the roaring mix of cries, clapping hands and stomping feet. Back to basics, while sticking to the most essential refinements. 

The tones grew louder then, and Josh could feel them set the stage beneath his feet vibrating, which only added to his agitation. So glad to be back, and yet so anxious. 

So much had changed in just one year, so many things that altered their course. The ‘Spring/Summer festival tour’ literally changed his life. He had loved, he had lost, he was now taking a path to the unknown, and it all left people wondering. His sudden disappearance and a subsequent injury started brand new rumors, and all the attempts to stop them from spreading felt like fighting Hydra. Eventually, they just stopped trying and focused on work, but now it made his guts clench again. Did they still love him? Would they still accept him, standing in front of them so vulnerable and naked? He knew some of them condemned him for what he had done, a few believed the lies about him, but thousands of them still came back. 

He looked at Jake for reassurance, but found him crouched under his own heavy thoughts, while his hands followed Sam’s direction, adding more ringing notes to the whole cacophony of the tamed melody and tumultuous feelings. 

Josh was on his own in this. He too looked down and smoothed a wrinkle on his new ebony satin wrap jacket. It hugged him around the waist and fell in smooth cascades around his hips. It was a perfect piece of garment, elegant when tied up, and frivolous-looking when he let it open. Unsure about it at first, he had gained some meat back during the last month, so he could now finally acknowledge that it really looked good on him. He put his chin up, both metaphorically and literally, and ran his fingers across the edges of the new dark brass laurel wreath that now decorated his head. It was a last minute addition, designed to hide the scar that was still visible under his patchy haircut. A deep breath in, and…

The curtain dropped. 

... and the room exploded. He looked down and realized they had been just as nervous, and finally they could just let it all out. Raising his arms up in a simple gesture, he urged them to do it, and then welcomed him in return. 

It was a wonderful song to open the show with. Just like with Heat Above, the initial tension grew until it was almost unbearable, only to be replaced by smooth harmonies and a soaring melody. However, they also experimented a bit more with this one, changing the tempo as well as the mood right where the chorus was supposed to be, hitting the listener right in the chest with its aggressive force. It was a perfect hymn for disturbing times, and the lyrics were Josh’s new prayer. 

When it was over, Josh closed his eyes, panting, and tried to get ready for the next song. The initial high subsided and he was now painfully aware of his surroundings. The new setlist had been one of the main topics of the recent late night quarrels. Sam and Daniel wanted to continue with Safari, while Jake opposed the idea without being able to explain why. He got outvoted eventually and now it was his turn to play the initial chords. 

Everything went smoothly until the first chorus. Josh turned slightly to the left, just like he had been used to doing, only to see Jake still standing at his side of the stage. He took one step forward, but Jake kept ignoring him. The audience noticed too, and he could see their frowned and confused faces as he continued to sing “why don’t you give some lovin’” and by that time it was painfully obvious that Jake wasn’t coming. One of the most notorious examples of their twin bond, one that started years ago as a telepathic need, was gone. Jake no longer wanted to sing that song together with him. 

Thousands of miles away, still tucked in her warm bed, Agnieszka was watching the livestream. 

Agnieszka 

After she had followed all the accounts that promised to do the streaming, Agnieszka had set her alarm clock to 3:30 to make sure she wouldn’t miss a single minute of it. With her headphones on, a cup of strong coffee at hand and a wildly beating heart inside her chest, she joined thousands of the people in the arena and hundreds of others online as a silent voyeur.  

While reading all those excited comments, she had no intention to join the live chat. She had even gone as far as to create new burner accounts everywhere, just to be able to keep tracks without being seen. She had already learned the power of gossip with the two of them still here, and things only got worse after they left, all because of one smudgy photo made by some fan from Warsaw.

It happened early on during their stay. The two of them were just helping Agnieszka with some groceries when a girl approached them and they reluctantly agreed to take a photo with her, well aware that things could get much worse if they refused. Much to everyone’s relief, nothing really happened afterwards, even though the picture circulated through the online space for a few days. It was just a photo of the guys “on vacation”, location unspecified, with both of them hiding under their hats and behind their sunglasses. They were probably just taking some time off after the recent media shitstorm, people concluded. Joshua needed to get out, and Jake was there to keep him company. 

It was only after the fans started discussing possible reasons for and creating their own theories about Josh's mysterious injury and why the tour got postponed when the girl posted another photo on Reddit that ultimately caused a huge uproar. The picture showed the three of them leaving the supermarket, location specified, with her confirming that the dark-haired woman who seemed local was indeed there with them. And since it was a clear violation of the guys’ privacy, the girl got roasted for it immediately and deleted it shortly afterwards. But the harm was already done, the photo quickly appeared on other platforms and fueled people’s imagination.  

Things got a bit out of hand in early October. At one point, she even martyrously tried to convince Joshua not to come back and just forget about their little affair, but he was adamant, unwilling to let anyone ruin his life any further. 

And now Jake only made things worse. The fourth song just started, and the people in the chat were still discussing his strange behaviour. To say that it made Agnieszka feel uncomfortable would be an understatement. Of course she knew they were supposed to sing those lines together, as she had spent the last two months watching every video that there was. Official material, fan footage and old interviews became her everyday bedtime stories. She even fell asleep while listening to Joshua’s guided meditation a few times. 

It always made her feel like an Alice in Wonderland, unable to comprehend how she came to know these talented and flamboyant people. She had dined with them, got drunk with them, kissed them and developed an intimate relationship with one of them. 

Was there really any relationship at all? As those strangers kept wondering, they were asking questions to which she had no answers. No, she wasn’t lurking backstage; no, she didn’t know how he labeled himself, because she never cared to ask; and no, she had no idea what was going on between him and Jake.  

Pcheh. Their ‘intimate’ relationship…

What was it, if not a folly?

Everytime she found a new gray hair – which seemed much more frequent after what happened up on Koscielec – Agnieszka would ask herself what am I doing? And then she would continue doing that. There were plenty of other men willing to be with her if she only let them, and she had the freedom to do it if or when the opportunity presented itself, but she just couldn’t. She kept waiting for the phone calls and Google Meet rendezvous. 

One such face call was scheduled right for after the show. Agnieszka had to wait for Joshua to get back to the hotel, which would take a while, so she just lay back on the pillow and enjoyed the moment of peace, as well as the warmth of her soft comforter. The house was now half empty and eerily quiet during early hours. No one wanted an early breakfast at this time of year; the few adventurous hikers and alpinists who dared to conquer the icy trails mostly kept to themselves. A calm before the Christmas storm, one would say. 

Even the sounds of the waking town coming from the outside were strangely muffled by the falling snow. Minutes dragged, and boredom and restlessness started to set. Agnieszka tried to kill the time by watching other newly posted videos from the show that just ended. 

Eventually, she dozed off waiting… 

She was walking along the ridge that separated the northeastern valleys from the southwestern ones. It was a dangerous path between two seemingly different worlds, covered with frost and ice, forcing her to consider every step carefully. To her left, everything was sprinkled with white and with mist lurking at stony rims. To her right, where the hillside was blessed with more sunshine, the autumn still kept flaunting its fiery colours. The setting sun behind her back illuminated the landscape and enhanced the visible split of seasons. 

Agnieszka couldn’t tell how she got up there. Just a moment ago, she was safe in the warm bed, awaiting a new day, from which she now couldn’t remember anything. The only thing was certain – the winter was coming and once again, another sun-like light appeared on the eastern horizon, disrupting the age-old alternation of day and night and sending chills down her spine. 

She heard three voices calling her name simultaneously. 

Together, it created an unearthly sound… then suddenly, their voices turned to deafening ringtones…

Olalla

Veela

Neszka

Agnieszka needed to take a few seconds to find out where she was and what happened. With the sleepy haze still clouding her brain, she looked around to see that the sky outside turned to steely blue, making outlines of furniture in her bedroom already visible. The phone, which she still held in her hand, kept on buzzing.

Still feeling weird from the recurring and yet ever changing dream, she pressed the accept button, squinting at the oppressively bright screen. Sexy…

Joshua, on the other hand, was his usual flawless and charming self: freshly-showered, rosy-cheeked and with his short damp curls slicked back. “Oh, hello darl… did I wake you up? I thought you said you were going to…”

“Oh yeah, yeah, I was. I just fell back to sleep after the livestream ended, I guess. But I saw everything,” she responded groggily while rubbing her left eye, before she adjusted the pillow behind her so that she could sit. 

“Oh, cool. It was a hell of a show, wasn’t it.” He greeted her with his usual bright, toothy smile, but Joshua’s face was an open book and Agnieszka already knew that face she caught a glimpse of behind the smiley mask quite well – when she could read a lot of conflicting things in his eyes, all of them centering around uncertainty and self-doubt. A simple twitch of an eyebrow always gave him away. She knew how nervous he was; he had confided to her prior to the show.. It was the first US show since he got outed and his personal life became a tabloid shitshow. And while the band was indeed greeted with rapturous ovations and they did put on a ‘hell of a show’, the undercurrent of doubt on both sides ran deep and the fact that his own brother seemingly threw him under the bus right when he felt the most vulnerable didn’t help at all. 

False consolations were not her nature. “Joshua… when I said I saw everything, I really meant everything.”

He sighed and started rubbing the back of his neck. “Was it that obvious?”

“What? That something is obviously going on between the two of you? Yeah, I would say so. At least to everyone who’s familiar with your stage behaviour. It shouldn’t be a big deal, I suppose, but I saw your face, and so did everyone else. It was pretty clear you didn’t expect that. The people in the chat spent the next half an hour making assumptions. Some of them even mentioned the ‘dark haired stranger’ that allegedly drove a wedge between the two of you.” She added the last sentence for comedic effect; to lighten the mood a bit. However, it had the opposite effect and Joshua’s face turned to stone. 

“Well, you shouldn’t really worry about that.” He sounded strangled, and for the first time turned his gaze off the screen. 

“Are you ok, Joshua?” 

“Yeah! Yeah…totally fine,” he replied absentmindedly. “We’ve had a few disagreements, but it’s nothing serious. Promise. I, eh… I wish you were here, sweetheart… So, anyway, what did you think of that lill’ insertion after Danny’s drum solo, birthday girl?” he chuckled, trying to change the subject. 

“You mean ‘My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean’? Yeah, that was very subtle. Everyone thought so…” She didn’t even try to hide the annoyance in her voice, unable to comprehend how he could think that it was a good idea. Obviously, he didn’t share the sentiment. 

“Well, I did that on purpose. And since people already talk… Well, I just hoped you’d like it. So, how was your special day?” 

“Pretty uneventful, just like all the other days here.” As it always was. She stopped celebrating her birthdays a long time ago. Joshua was probably the only person on Earth who tried to make a big deal of the uninteresting fact that she was now thirty three. Well, him and Maya. “I went for a walk, I got a new backpack, I actually had a massage…that was nice and pleasant… and I got my IUD replaced… that was much less pleasant.”

“Well good to know!” He made another funny face and she had to laugh back. Most of her former lovers would be grossed out by the bold remark, but not him. He was just… different. 

For example, he couldn’t just sit still, which was in fact often pretty cool and entertaining during their face call as he always inadvertently gave her a tour of whatever place he was currently at. So, as he walked around, she could see glimpses of his suite. “Wow, that’s a fancy hotel room. Very different from the dingy attic one.” 

“And cold,” Joshua replied irritably. “It’s really the worst part of the deal, to be honest, and no amount of luxury could possibly change that. I’d give anything to be back in that snug attic room if it meant I could feel your soft skin again.” 

“Soft…”

“Yeah, like satin. Go on and touch it if you don’t believe me.” With that, he finally hopped on his bed and leaned his back against the headboard. He must have untied his bathrobe in the process, as she could see his bare chest now, knowing too well where this was going. They had tried a few times in the past and always ended up giggling. Yet he kept on trying. “Are you naked?”

“Hell no! It’s November. I’m wearing button-up pajamas.”

“Unbutton it then.”

She couldn’t help but laugh. His incessant attempts to coax her into having phone sex with him were always so… cute. “I think I’ll need a bit more convincing.”

He closed his eyes and exhaled harshly. Agnieszka couldn’t see his other hand, but she knew very well where it was. “I’m imagining your palms right now, so callous and coarse from all the hard and honest work, like the finest sandpaper…”

She was just getting comfy and he made her burst out laughing again. “You’re an idiot.” 

He chuckled with her. “All right, all right, let’s try again. I was serious about your skin. So soft and warm, and when my fingers travel further down… come on, travel with me… it feels like a velvety cushion, and it smells like honey and hay. Can you feel it too, baby?”

“Yes,” she moaned involuntarily. Hearing him talk about it like that really did create a good illusion. “I imagine your fingers. Say more, because I swear I can almost feel them”. 

He was breathing heavily now, which turned her on even more. He told her more about the things he’d do and she followed his directions, sliding her middle finger inside. “I wish I could touch your cock.”

“And I’d give anything to feel your lips around it right now…”

She bit her lip when the question popped up in her head. It wasn’t the first time, but she never mustered enough courage, until now. Still not sure if it was ok to ask that, she took a deep breath first. “Do you ever imagine a man doing it to you, Joshua? I mean, do you still…?”

He seemed unfazed, just a little annoyed. “Why are you asking me now?”

“I think it’s sexy,” she cooed. “Besides, if this is supposed to work, we shouldn’t keep secrets from each other.” Saying that, she felt a pang of guilt even before she finished the sentence. 

“Sexy, you say?” he asked huskily and she could hear the unmistakable sound of slapping flesh. Judging by the movement of his shoulder, it was more than apparent what he was doing. It made her heart beat wildly. If only she could be there with him…

“Yeah… you were always in control when we were together, hardly ever letting me take the lead, even when I wanted to. And I just wondered…because…” The sound of him clearing his throat interrupted her in mid-sentence. 

“It just felt natural. You’re so delicate, like baby deer…”

“No, I’m not…”

“Yes, you are, baby. Compared to most of my previous lovers, you are… You’re strong, but still a flower… I just…just can’t stop looking at you… So, erhhm, to answer your question -  yes, I do.” 

This was all strangely exciting. 

“Tell me more.” 

“Are you still touching yourself?”

She was. Because she didn’t lie. It made her slightly anxious, but the fact that the idea also turned her on couldn’t be denied. Also, learning to know his desires seemed like the best policy against the anxiety which was almost crippling at times, and today was no different.  Seeing him wrapped in satin, adored by hundreds of people, and not all of them women, made her feel like an onlooker, forced to remain in the distance. She didn’t want that.

And so he told her, with reluctance at first, but seeing that she didn’t stop and wanted more, he went on. Slowly, they guided each other towards their respective climaxes. Even though separated by thousands of miles, for a split second they felt closer to each other than before in the aftermath. 

“What time is it there right now?” he asked groggily after a while, when she could no longer hide her weariness and yawned expressively. 

“Almost eight thirty.”

“Can you perhaps go back to sleep for a while.”

“I guess so.” She had no real responsibilities until after lunch, so the idea of staying in bed for a while seemed quite agreeable. 

“I think you should, then. And I should try to get some sleep as well. See you soon, love.”

“Good night, Joshua.”

Agnieszka tried to follow his advice, but after a while, she grabbed her phone again, quite sure that a certain person wasn’t asleep just yet…

Jake

Jake in fact did try to go to bed early-ish this time. He also tried everything that was supposed to help him accomplish this special mission. He had a few drinks, a soothing shower, late night sex… and if that wasn’t enough, skin-to-skin cuddles were expected to do the trick. 

However, half an hour later, his mind was still racing, and it had nothing to do with the person now sleeping so peacefully right next to him. The person who – in fact – was also the one who had tried to persuade him that he should improve his sleeping habits. Women. So, instead of grabbing a guitar or a book, he was now lying in the darkness, watching city lights painting pictograms on the ceiling above him. He didn’t dare leave the bed, afraid that it would wake Lisa.  

Suddenly, his phone lightened up with a familiar notification. He kept most of them muted, so he knew immediately. And surely enough…

Veela: Care to explain what the hell happened?

Jake knew immediately what she meant, and it made him feel both pleased and angry with himself at the same time. What the hell happened, indeed. It wasn’t deliberate. It wasn’t out of spite. He just didn’t want to play the song. And he certainly didn’t want to sing it… with Josh, no less! For years, it had been ‘their’ song, and it didn’t mean anything else. They wrote it before Josh really started caring about the meaning of the lyrics he was writing. The stupid ditty suddenly got a brand new meaning and Jake just couldn’t stomach it. 

He certainly didn’t want to make people wonder, or to make her angry… or maybe he did? Either way, there was no way out. 

He quickly scrambled out of bed – afraid that he would wake Lisa – and took the phone with him to the bathroom where he sat on a closed toilet seat, feeling sneaky. 

Kuba Starlight: “I just wasn’t in the mood for singing, thats all. No big deal.” 

The response was immediate. 

Veela: Is that the only reason?

His thumbs hovered above the keypad for several seconds before he finally typed a brief answer.

Kuba Starlight: Yes. 

He watched the three dots moving while rubbing his chin, anxiously awaiting her next jab. It took her a while, leaving him wondering what kind of indictment she was drafting. 

Veela: Because I just talked to him and it didn’t seem like a “no big deal” to him. And people noticed too. It’s no.1 gossip right now. I’m slightly jealous. You’re trying to steal my spotlight, no doubt. :p

The last remark made him smile. Perhaps she wasn’t that angry after all. 

And so am I, he thought. Wonder how you did it. 

Kuba Starlight: People will always talk. One day I forget to comb my hair and the next day they start a rumor that I’m a depressed drunk.

Kuba Starlight: Josh is quite oversensitive these days. 

He expected her to continue pestering him about the stupid ‘stage incident’, but she switched back to her caring and understanding (and nosy) self instead. 

Kuba Starlight: In fact, I have. 

Veela: You shouldn’t blame him. 

Veela: I know you were worried about the show too. Maybe you two should just… talk?

Veela: What about my previous suggestion? The room is still available. 

Veela: I just really don’t think you should spend Christmas alone. Unless you’ve found someone to spend it with…

He couldn’t even tell why answering truthfully suddenly made him feel so irritable. Perhaps because he wasn’t really truthful. 

Kuba Starlight: Nothing serious. Just a casual acquaintance. 

Veela: OK. That’s good news. 

Is it?! He watched – all hopeful – as the three dots appeared again. 

Veela: It might get serious eventually. You never know. :)

That only made him feel worse. And there were no more dots after that. Obviously, she dropped the subject, which in turn made his stomach drop. It was always like that, with him being torn between ‘honey, don’t feed me’ and ‘why aren’t you talking to me?’ She was convinced they were friends – bless her heart… and damn his. He kept feeding her this idea only to keep in contact with her, knowing too well it was both self-destructive and toxic. 

He shouldn’t want her to keep persuading him; he in fact shouldn’t be having this conversation in the first place, but that wretched creature inside his head always prevailed. The truth was that he had considered her suggestion – his heart even skipped a beat when she first mentioned it as a possibility  – and the wretched creature wanted him to say yes. 

It was right after right after Josh casually informed her that their parents were taking a long-desired trip during Christmas, and she immediately thought about him being left alone, bless her big heart. 

So yes, he wanted to say yes, it just wasn’t justifiable up until recently. Now he had a perfect excuse, so he quickly started typing another message. 

He re-read the blabbery he just sent and groaned again, loudly this time. Not only because he didn’t really think it through yet, it was still just a vague idea. But also because of all those typos he always made when he was in a rush. 

Kuba Starlight: But she asked me if we could go sking, so maybe we could come together.

Kuba Starlight: You know… to keep an eye on him. 

Kuba Starlight: Not that I don’t trust you… but, you know…

Kuba Starlight: But don’t worry about our stay. I’ll find us something else. Somthing with jacuzzi and champange. 

And she never commented on it. She never judged him. 

Veela: :D

Veela: Oukey then! I’ll be happy to see you again. And to meet your new girl. 

December 18th 2025, Nashville; Josh

They made it. The first part of the tour successfully completed, Christmas was finally here and the atmosphere in the city already satiated with the holiday mood. Just a few more days… and then he would see her again. 

There was one last thing that Josh desperately needed to do, and so far it had prevented him from being able to join and enjoy the festivities. He had been sitting in their favorite cafeteria for more than an hour now, more and more convinced that he had been stood up. The idea weighed like a huge stone on his chest and it grew heavier with each passing minute. 

But at last, he appeared. Effortlessly charismatic as always. Lean and tall, with his hair neatly braided this time. He spotted Josh immediately, but remained standing by the door for a few excruciatingly long seconds before he finally made his way towards Josh’s table. 

Josh stood up and made one hesitant step forward, but Christopher quickly stopped him with his outstretched palm. A simple gesture that felt like having a bucketful of icy water tipped over his head. 

Josh knew that it was absolutely foolish to hope for a hug, but after all those years, it was just like a conditioned reflex. He had spent so much time hugging that man that it seemed unnatural not to do it, even under the current circumstances… “Please, at least sit.” He sounded defeated.

Christopher took the chair opposite to Josh and leaned back with his arms crossed. It wasn’t going to be easy, that was certain. “Ok, spill. What do you want?”

“I… the idea that I’d never see you again was just unbearable…I mean…”

Christopher cocked his brow exasperatedly. “Spare me.”

Josh started to panic. It was so hard to tame the thoughts in his head so that he could transform them into a coherent sentence. Christopher was well aware, but also unwilling to make it any easier for him. Josh had spent hours looking into those eyes. Somewhere behind them, there used to be a place that felt like home. Now he could clearly see that he was no longer welcome there. So, instead of trespassing, he lowered his eyes and opted to tell it to the coffee cup. “No… I mean, without, eh, I cou..couldn’t stand not to see you again and…and not to tell you how sorry I am.” 

A few more excruciating seconds passed before he dared to look up again. Christopher was rubbing his lower lip with the tips of his fingers – something he always did when he was searching for the right words. The silence made Josh’s chest tighten.

“I gave you quite a lot of freedom,” Christopher said at last. 

“I know…”

“And you said you’d never do anything that would hurt me. And I trusted you.”

“I know…”

“And you betrayed that trust… twice!”

“We were no longer together when I… I didn’t expect you to…”  The sound of Christopher’s palm slapping the wooden desk right in front of Josh made him jump. 

“YOU TOLD ME…” Christopher raised his voice menacingly, but quickly tried to calm himself down when he saw Josh’s startled stare. They were in public, after all. He knew the rules, and it affected him too now. So, he took a deep breath before he continued: “You told me that it was not even a possibility, so naturally, I feel like everything you EVER said was a lie.”

“I didn’t lie. I…I didn’t know it was a possibility, Taffy,” Josh’s voice faltered. He squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to fight off the stinging sensation, but it was no use. He was crying. “I’m so sorry,” he sobbed. They sat silent for several seconds; thankfully, it was enough for Josh to pull himself together and Christopher mercifully granted him that luxury. 

“The thing that happened with David…,” Josh cleared his throat and continued, fully determined to say everything he wanted to: “I know no apology could even make it right. The worst thing is that it really meant nothing. I feel like I’ve lost control of my life even since, which…I guess…I fully deserve. Like a drunken boat. You remember the poem? And now she… she’s both the anchor and the sea. And it happened so fast. I… when you came to the hospital  with mom and Jake, I felt like being stuck between two cogwheels. But the thing I said, it hasn’t changed. I never stopped loving you.” 

Josh so desperately wanted him to understand it. Even if he would never see him again, even though he knew Christopher didn’t want to accept it, Josh just needed him to understand that some people are like tattoos, and there’s always enough space for more than one. Sweet Olalla understood…

Christopher slowly leaned forward and, with his elbows now on the table, he put his hand together and started rubbing his lip against the fingertips once more. Josh waited patiently. Whatever the outcome, at least he knew Taffy was giving it a thought. 

“How’s your head? Are you well?” he finally said. 

Josh looked at him in confusion. Did Christopher think he’d gone mental? “I…yeah, it’s healed pretty nicely. I still have headaches sometimes, but… why?” 

Christopher took a deep breath. “Because I’ve been fucking worried, jerk!”

December 22nd, Zakopane; Agnieszka

Just like the last time, she was restless since the early morning. But unlike the last time, she didn’t spend hours waiting in the freezing cold. Also, no separate room for him this time. Joshua was just going to stay with her. Eulalia was basically home to him now. 

Jake and his girl rented a private chalet on the opposite hill, right next the main ski slope. He was supposed to drop Joshua around five and then they’d all meet in town for dinner later. That was the plan. 

It was already half past five when the bell above the main door finally chimed and a familiar figure stepped inside. She quickly jumped out of her seat behind the reception desk and ran right into his arms, nearly knocking him off. 

“Ugh, sweet girl, easy!” he chuckled, hugging her back. He buried his face in her hair and stayed that way for several seconds, which wasn’t strange at all. However, she soon began to wonder about how silent he was… that was definitely strange. 

Breaking the embrace at last, she was finally able to take a good look at him… and froze. 

There was a nasty bruise on the left side of his chin, and his lower lip was split and swollen, making him look like he had been in a fist fight. 

“Joshua, what the hell happened?”

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