#I NEED more winter soldier fanfics

[rabbitgirll]

★

[eclipsedechoesofmywords]

"Do You Want to Dance Too?"

[Bucky Barnes x fem!reader]

Masterlist

Summary: After a very rare date with your boyfriend, it starts to rain and you two find yourselves stuck in a cafe with no way to get home without being soaked.

Warnings: none! Just fluff

Word Count: 1.1k words

(A/n: First attempt at a fanfic. I thought about this when I was trying to sleep and I really wanted to write it down.)

You curse under your breath as James and you quickly run to the small cafe at the end of the empty street. The rain started just a few moments ago, so it wasn't bad now, but you had a feeling it would only get worse.

You finally make it through the door, only slightly wet.

"Nice end to the day," he mumbles, clearly unhappy.

You sigh and take a seat at your usual table when Ella, a good friend of yours, pops up behind the counter.

"Well, this is a surprise," the barista says. "Thought I was finally going to be able to go through the whole day without you showing up."

"Ha ha," you muse, "Get us some hot chocolate."

She rolls her eyes but goes to make the order nonetheless.

James takes a seat next to you, glaring out the window as if that would stop the rain. The rain didn't take kindly to that as it starts a downpour, confirming your earlier suspicion.

He grumbles, and you take his hand in yours.

"Tonight was nice," you say gently.

"It could've been better."

You shake your head, "You can't control the weather, love."

But you could understand his frustration. You rarely got to spend much time together as it was.

You usually only see each other at night but by then are too exhausted to do anything other than eat and sleep.

James and you had started dating a few months ago, but you had known each other for years before then. You used to be an Avenger, but you quit after Steve left. First, it had been out of grief from your best friends; then it changed to you not wanting that kind of life anymore.

James was still very much in it—he was a soldier first, after all—and, as long as he didn't get himself killed, you were okay with that.

You unconsciously trace a small scar on his palm as Ella brings you the hot cocoas.

"Okay, here's the deal," she starts, "I have to close up in 45 minutes. You guys can stay to try to wait the rain out."

"Do you at least have an umbrella we can borrow?" you ask.

"Nope. I even gave mine to an old lady."

"And you can't let us stay?"

"Nada."

It's your turn to grumble, "Fine."

Ella shrugs, "I need to clean up," she says before making her leave.

James is still glaring out of the window when he suddenly turns his stare on you.

"This is why we should've taken the car," he concludes.

You are taken aback, "So it's my fault for suggesting that we walk for 20 minutes to the restaurant?"

"Guess so."

You scoff, "You are on very thin ice here, Barnes."

He raises an eyebrow, "Are you threatening me?"

"Guess so," you mimic.

"What are you going to do?" he asks, amused.

"Do you want to sleep on the couch?"

He scoffs at your threat but doesn't say anything else.

Smart man.

You sip your hot cocoas in silence.

Then, suddenly, you're laughing. James looks at you with an amused grin.

"I can make you sleep on the couch," you say, still giggling.

You poke his chest, and he starts laughing too.

"I know you can, dear. I know you can."

He grabs your chin with his right hand, tilting your head so you look him directly in the eye.

"What would I do without you?" he wonders out loud.

"It's too awful to think about," you joke.

He laughs again before pressing his lips against yours.

You sigh in the kiss. It's difficult to think you were once distrusting of the super soldier you had grown to love. Now you trusted him with everything you had and more.

It took a long time for you to see the ex-Winter Soldier's true nature. His gentle, shy yet annoyingly protective nature.

Too long.

He breaks off the kiss with a small smile.

"We should finish the hot cocoa before it gets cold," James suggests.

"Hot cocoa is more important than kissing your girlfriend?" you pout.

He shrugs, "It's good hot chocolate."

You don't deny his statement.

It's your turn to look out of the window. As rain bangs on the roof and glass of the small cafe, it seems to play out a rather aggressive tune. You don't like when it rains. It brings back rather painful memories, but you've learned that countering the bad memories with good ones helps make peace with the pain caused in a moment.

That gives you an idea.

"Do you want to sprint for it now?" you ask randomly.

The super soldier nearly spits out his cocoa, "What?"

"It's probably only gonna get worse, and we are going to have to eventually."

"Do you want to dance too?" he says sarcastically.

Your eyes light up at the idea, "Can we?"

James' eyes widen, "I meant it as a joke."

"But why not? It's as cliche as dancing in the apartment," you point out, "Besides, it'll be fun."

He shakes his head, "We are not dancing in the rain."

"But—"

"It's way too cold, and the last time you got sick, you couldn't get out of bed for a week."

You try to hide your wince by pouting, "Fine. No dancing."

He sighs, "But maybe we should go soon. It does look like it's going to get worse."

"So let's go then."

~~~

"Wait up!"

James' voice is nearly lost in the rain. You keep running, knowing full well he could catch up with you within a minute.

Or maybe he couldn't. You are pretty fast.

You laugh into the wind, your mouth filling with water as the painfully large raindrops hit your face.

You sprint in the direction you think is your house and try to calm the leather jacket that James gave you by wrapping it around your torso.

While doing so, you accidentally stumble on your feet and go flying forward.

Strong arms wrap around you within a moment, one made out of a now freezing metal.

"I got you," Bucky assures, "I got you."

You hear him loud and clear now despite his voice barely being above a whisper. The drumming of rain seems like an irrelevant background noise.

You turn to him, grinning like an idiot. His hair is stuck to his face. He shakes his head at you but is unable to hide his own smile.

No words need to be exchanged in the moment as his hands rest on your waist, and your arms loop around his neck.

You look at James with possibly all the love you hold and softly press your lips against his. It is easy to forget everything with him, even easier to forget the bad things.

He puts his arm on your neck and pulls away. "You're going to get sick."

"I've accepted it," you confess quickly, chasing his lips.

He shakes his head again but lets you kiss him regardless.

You got sick for a week afterward, but it was well worth it. Especially when you had James looking after you.

[lucysarah-c]

There seems to be a bit of debate within the fandom about whether Isayama stated that Erwin is handsome while Levi isn't, or if Erwin was based on Captain America, and so on.

What I'll offer you is my personal take on the matter, as someone who not only happens to be a woman but also, sadly, a woman who likes men (lol) but also as someone with plenty of friends who share that preference.

Let me preface this by saying that I don't intend for this post to be seen as definitive proof or canon, derived from specific panels or interviews. No, this is simply my humble opinion, based on one thing: my perspective as a woman.

Now, if Isayama believes that Erwin resembles Captain America due to his care for his appearance, and thus is deemed more conventionally attractive, that's fine. But let's remember, Isayama is a MAN. When has a man ever accurately grasped what women truly find appealing?

Sure, Erwin may be tall, handsome, and blond. I'll admit, I even find Erwin attractive. But do you know any girls who go wild over that? No, girls aren't going to Marvel movies for Thor or Captain America (well, maybe some are). They're there for Loki, the Winter Soldier. Men seem to think girls thrist over Captain America's abs, when in reality, I've witnessed more girls giggling over Bambi's dad and his deep voice. Girls don't fantasize about Captain America; they're watching Peaky Blinders or Pride and Prejudice, yearning for a Tommy Shelby to size them up, cigarette and whiskey in hand, with that Birmingham accent asking, "Are you a whore? If not, you're in the wrong place." We want Daemon Targaryen beheading someone who dared insult us.

In my own fanfic, I don't deny that characters like Mike, Erwin, Reiner, Zeke, and all the "conventionally attractive guys" are attractive. But Levi? He's known as the strongest thug in the underground, yet he's also the man who rescued a young girl lost in the streets. In a den of violence and depravity, Levi was both tough and compassionate. I'd wager Levi had the bitches making lines.

The perfect example of this is Zeke admitting he's "not popular with girls." It's like the guy who posts a frustrated TikTok because his gym crush is dating someone edgy. He's the type who wonders, "Why that twig and not me?" Well, sweetheart, because that "edgy" guy is caring and probably knows how to make a woman come better than you. He's so secure in his masculinity that he doesn't need to prove it.

I've said it before, and I'll say it again: Levi embodies the female gaze because he's what girls want. I'm not claiming this as gospel truth or canon. I'm simply explaining why it seems obvious to me that Levi would still be attractive and desired within the walls—just like how many girls these days prefer Cillian Murphy over Chris Hemsworth.

[arcane-vagabond]

Fairy Tale Writing Challenge

Once upon a time, in a land far, far away...

Welcome one and all! If you know me, you know there are few things I love more than a good fairy tale! So, to commemorate 1,500 followers and the rebranding of my blog away from solely being a Top Gun: Maverick blog, I've decided to host a little writing challenge!

Rules:

You MUST be 18+ in order to participate (Your age must be listed somewhere on your blog, I will be checking.)

This writing challenge is open to all fandoms!

This challenge will run continuously.

Send me an ask/message to let me know that you're participating!

You MUST choose both a fairy tale and a word for this challenge! Only one person per word prompt. I will add more if I need to.

Tag/message me when you've posted!

Can be a one-shot, two-parter, or series!

Please use the "read more" feature if your fic is over 500 words.

Please use the hashtag "FTWC" so we can read and reblog your work!

You don't have to follow, but reblogging this post would be nice to get the word out there!

How does this work?

You will pick a fairy tale and then one word from the prompt list. You must incorporate that word somehow whether by using it in the prose itself, or by giving your fic that overall feeling.

If there is a fairy tale you would like to do that is not listed, shoot me a message and I will add it!

Message me if you have any questions!

Entries;

🧸 @arcane-vagabond w/ The Little Mermaid and Desiderium

Fathoms Below - Derek Hale (Teen Wolf)

🧸 @baezen w/ Jack and the beanstalk and Petrichor

A Perilous Place - Isaac Lahey (Teen Wolf)

🧸 @sorchathered w/ Little Red Riding Hood and Apricity

Little Red and Her Wolf - Bucky Barnes (MCU)

🧸 @kissmecaitie w/ Beauty and the Beast and Acrimonious

🧸 @the-aspiring-fanfic-writer w/ Cinderella and Sonder

🧸 @hardlyinteresting w/ Peter Pan and Scintilla

🧸 @goldenseresinretriever w/ The Steadfast Tin Soldier and Adust

🧸 @queenofvelaris w/ Sleeping Beauty and Labyrinth

🧸 @elizabeth-holland24 w/ Beauty and the Beast and Juberous

The Beast Within - Jake "Hangman" Seresin (TGM)

🧸 @devil-angel-winchester w/ Rapunzel and Avidulous

Fairy Tales;

👑 The Little Mermaid

👑 Cinderella

👑 Snow White

👑 Sleeping Beauty

👑 Rapunzel

👑 Little Red Riding Hood

👑 Jack and the Bean Stalk

👑 Goldilocks and the Three Bears

👑 Rapunzel

👑 Peter Pan

👑 The Ice Queen

👑 Beauty and the Beast

👑 Hansel and Gretel

👑 The Frog Prince

👑 Alice in Wonderland

👑 Pinocchio

👑 Rumpelstiltskin

👑 the Six Swans

👑 The White Snake

👑 The Princess and the Pea

Prompts;

⭐️ Acrimonious: Deeply or violently bitter

⭐️ Adust: Of a gloomy appearance or disposition

⭐️ Apricity: The warm rays of sun in the winter

⭐️ Avidulous: Somewhat greedy

⭐️ Desiderium: An ardent desire or longing; especially a feeling of loss or grief for something lost

⭐️ Dyspathy: Lack of sympathy

⭐️ Effervescent: Lively, full of energy, bubbly

⭐️ Epeolatry: Admiration of words

⭐️ Eudaemonia: The state of being lucky

⭐️ Futz: To pass time in idleness

⭐️ Graumangere: A great meal

⭐️ Hiebal: Of or relating to winter

⭐️ Hokum: Out-and-out nonsense

⭐️ Juberous: Doubtful and hesitating

⭐️ Labyrinth: A complex set of passageways

⭐️ Melancholy: A feeling of pensive sadness

⭐️ Peripatetic: A nomad; someone who travels from place to place

⭐️ Petrichor: The smell of earth after the rain

⭐️ Raconteur: Someone who's very good at telling stories

⭐️ Scintilla: A trace or spark of something

⭐️Sonder: The realization that each passerby has a full life of experiences, emotions, and problems just like you

⭐️ Sonorous: A deep and full sound

⭐️ Wassail: Mulled wine

[saiyanprincessswanie]

SaiyanPrincessSwanie Reading List Week 213 & 214

A/N: Thank you again to those who recommended fanfics or tagged me. 💜 This week had me reading 50 fics. Absolutely amazing fics here. This has been so much fun for me and I hope you enjoy my reading lists.

As always these will be listed in no particular order. None of these stories are mine. I’m just signal-boosting them. The author is listed next to the title. My goal is to signal boost writers and spread positivity in the community.  💜💜

Click HERE to see what I will or won’t read. This is very important.

Click HERE for past reading lists.

For my Masterlist click HERE.

Please make sure you’re reading the warnings on every story. They range from dark to fluff. Do Not Read if you are under 18 years old. These stories are meant for adults only. You’re responsible for your own media consumption.

Page-break by @whimsicalrogers

Header by @fictional-affairs

If you can, please reblog these lists so they can reach more people on Tumblr.

I love you 3000 💜 Missy

Need You Now - (Bucky x Reader) - @saiyanprincessswanie

Mafia Bucky Drabble - @angrythingstarlight

Goldi locked - (Curtis x Reader x Ari x Steve) - @biteofcherry

one for you and me - (Bucky x Reader) - @mellowsaturns

no place like home - (Steve x Reader) - @mellowsaturns

Drugged Courage - (Steve x Reader) - @mercurial-chuckles

Berserk Captain Rogers - (Steve x Reader) - @mercurial-chuckles

Out of My Head - (Bucky x Reader) - @navybrat817

Stay - (Bucky x Reader) - @jobean12-blog

Making Time - (Bucky x Reader) - @jobean12-blog

Sunrises and Sunsets - (Bucky x Reader) - @navybrat817

More time - (Brock x Reader) - @nekoannie-chan

somebody else - (Bucky x Reader) - @lunarbuck

Deception - (Andy x Reader) - @stargazingfangirl18

Fate Part 1 - (Curtis x Reader) - @thezombieprostitute

Fate Part 2 - (Curtis x Reader) - @thezombieprostitute

Guilt - (Bucky x Reader) - @deliciousangelfestival

Oh My - (Jake x woc!Reader) - @syntheticavenger

hard drive - (Jake x Reader) - @syntheticavenger

Comply - (Winter Soldier x Reader) - @tumblin-theworldaway

Mafia Bucky Drabble - @angrythingstarlight

A Much Needed Reminder - (Andy x Reader) - @stargazingfangirl18

Hold Me - (Ari x Reader) - @flordeamatista

Losing Control - (Bucky x Reader) - @flordeamatista

till the end of time - (Thor x Reader) - @sergeantxrogers

for so long as you live - (Bucky x Reader) - @witchywithwhiskey

"My King" - (Thor x Reader) - @fluffyprettykitty

Vicious - (Bucky x Reader) - @fluffyprettykitty

Another Ending 1 - (Bucky x Reader) - @deliciousangelfestival

Another Ending - 2 - (Bucky x Reader) - @deliciousangelfestival

You Should've Seen Him - (Steve x Reader) - @buckets-and-trees

I Will Always Come When You Call - (Bucky x Reader) - @eat-limes-bitches

Love Marks - (Bucky x Reader) - @flordeamatista

Betrayed heart - (Brock x Reader) - @nekoannie-chan

Hold You Tight: Part 6 - (Bucky x Reader) - @navybrat817

Cold hearted - Chp 3 - (Multi Pairings) - @missvelvetsstuff

Cold hearted - Chp 4 - (Multi Pairings) - @missvelvetsstuff

Indecent Proposal - (8) - (Stucky x Reader) - @holylulusworld

Leap of faith - (Steve x Reader) - @mostly-marvel-musings

Drabble Roulette: F*ck Machine - Bucky Barnes - @darkficsyouneveraskedfor

Touching - (Steve x Reader) - @nekoannie-chan

Delivered - (Curtis x Reader) - @stargazingfangirl18

Big Pharma - (Steve x Reader) - @ronearoundblindly

Back to the Office - (Bucky x Reader) - @navybrat817

liquor - (Thor x Reader) - @syntheticavenger

I know what you did - (Lee B x Reader) - @tumblin-theworldaway

Chivalry - (Steve x Reader) - @mostly-marvel-musings

So, This Is Love! - (Ransom x Reader) - @americasass81

Life Is Short So Make It Sweet - Chp 10 - (Curtis x Honey) - @sweater-daddiesdumbdork

Your Mark On Me - Part 13 - (Steve x Reader) - @georgiapeach30513

[rightbrainboredom]

An Ah-ha Moment

So I'm watching marvel movies to help do some research for my fanfic, specifically The Winter Soldier right now. I had a realization, maybe people already noticed this maybe not. Well when Steve and Nat are at Sam's place they talk a bit about how they're each feeling with the knowledge that S.H.I.E.L.D. has become Hydra. Nat states that Steve seems fairly chipper considering what they just found out, and considering that he basically 'died' for nothing. And she's totally right. During their conversation Steve actually has a bit of a smirk on his lips, and there is a hopeful light in his eyes. Up until now his expression has been serious and flat, morose even. Steve responds with, "Well, I guess I just like to know who I'm fighting."

Earlier in the film Steve talks with Peggy about how lost he's feeling in the modern political climate and how he feels he doesn't know who the bad guy is any more. But now knowing that the bad guy is Hydra, that puts him back into familiar territory. He's done this before. He knows who the bad guy is, it's Hydra, without a doubt, and he knows how to fight them. This is probably the most normal and 'at ease' he has probably felt since he woke up. He's fought this war before, sure there's more advanced weaponry, and Hydra is much farther spread, but it's still Hydra. He's beat them before, he knows that he can beat them again. All he needs is the right team, an new set of Howling Commandos if you will. He's home, and he has a true and defined purpose.

Anyway, thanks for coming to my TED Talk. Haha

[she-wolf09231982]

Joe Liebgott

“You Nervous?”

Summary: You thought your relationship with Liebgott was complicated…until it wasn’t and it led to an unexpected evening of overwhelming emotions and sexual tension.

A/N: One shot, Mature audience, JoeLoebgottx!FemMedic, WW2, Female Pronouns, Cursing/Swearing, Derogatory Slurs, Womanizing Comments, Military and Medical Terminology, Inappropriate Nicknames, HBO Band of Brothers References, Mentions/Descriptions of Injuries, Weaponry, Smoking. Angst/Conflict, Smut, FOREVER FLUFF

This piece was at the request of @awaterfalls ❤️ hope you like it Nat!

*These stories may not fall entirely in accordance with the TV series timeline. I do not know the real soldiers the actors portray in this series, so please understand I show no disrespect. Some or most of historical events and character interactions in my fanfics are fabricated purely for the sake of the enjoyment of fiction*

~~~~~~~

You weren’t the type to take being treated like a doormat. You were raised to find your place amongst others regardless of gender. You earned your respect because you did your job and you did it well, not because you were pretty and the guys wanted to bed you.

It was heavily frowned upon that women be on the front lines alongside men, but when nurses and medics started to get caught in the crossfire, they resorted to allowing females to do just about everything men did to fill the gaps. You had been assigned to Easy Company right after Toccoa, and most of them were less than receptive to say the least.

Eugene Roe was grateful to have an extra set of hands. Don Malarkey, Skip Muck, and George Luz were very taken with your sense of humor so they warmed up to you rather quickly. Joe Toye, Bill Guarnere, and Babe took some time, but when you tackled Bill to avoid getting blown up by enemy artillery, their demeanor towards you made a complete 360.

Easy accepted you as one of their own…except for one: Joseph Liebgott. He was the most ornery son of a bitch you ever met. He always found a reason to trash talk you, or find fault in anything you did. All because you were a ‘broad,’ as he referred to you. The guys tried to defend you but his opinion never changed about you.

You learned to just avoid him unless he needed medical attention. He did alright not getting hurt up until you guys posted in Schoonderlogt, Holland in October 1944. He had been on patrol late one night and returned with an angry gash on the right side of his neck. One of the other patrolmen they brought back, Alley, had been hit by German gunfire and needed immediate attention.

They set Alley onto a table for when Doc got there

"Boyle, get Doc." Winters instructed then looked at Liebgott, "Where?"

"Crossroads." Liebgott replied. You notice he took a dressing and pressed it against his neck.

"Well, if it wasn't for your loud mouth-" he started to accuse Joe.

"-Hey, you know what? Back off!" Liebgott shot back as Roe pushed through the gaggle.

"Get the boots off, elevate...Lieb use the sulfur... Doc directed but noticed Joe’s neck.

“Lieb, go see Y/L/N and get that checked out.” Doc added.

“Yeah, no thanks, Doc, I’m good.” Liebgott said all too quickly with disdain.

“Joe, I wasn’t askin’ ya. It needs to be cleaned and dressed properly, it can get infected then you’ll have a bigger problem to deal with that will take you off the line. Go. I ain’t got enough hands to help ya.” Doc said sternly.

Liebgott released an irritable huff before pushing through the group to find where you were.

You had already grabbed gauze, dressings and sanitizing fluid when you heard Doc scold Joe about getting his neck looked at. He sat on a bale of straw waiting for you to tend to him. You spread out the supplies and examine his neck wound. You reach out to gently move his head to the left to get more light on it and he dodged your touch.

“What the fuck are you doin’?” He asked harshly.

“I was moving your head where I had more light on the wound. Why are you so squirrely?” You ask.

“Oh, I don’t know, because I just got shot at by a bunch of fuckin’ Krauts!” He replied sarcastically as he glared at you.

“Ok well then let’s get this fixed, shall we?” You returned with as much calmness in your voice as you could muster.

You press the cloth with the antiseptic onto his laceration and he pulled back upon feeling the sting.

“Ack! THAT HURT!” He barked.

“If you’d hold still, it wouldn’t hurt as much!!”You bit back.

You were over his childish behavior towards you.

“Just get it over with.” He grumbled, finally maintaining his composure.

You made your hands busy on his neck, wrapping the dressing like a scarf around his neck after you cleaned it. Thank goodness you didn’t need to stitch it, that would’ve been hell for both of you with his attitude.

“There. You’re good.”

“Fantastic.” He replied without a thank you.

He stood up and trudged off to join the rest of Easy for the return to Crossroads to reclaim the position. The patrol had been gone all night into the following morning, but they had eventually took victory. That evening, Winters allowed the men an evening of enjoyment at a local pub in the town to boost morale.

The men had worn their dress uniforms, each looking handsome and ready to mingle with the local women and vice versa. You hadn’t dressed up since graduating Toccoa and even then, you hadn’t been with Easy Company then, so this would be the first time they ever saw you in dress uniform,

“Hey! Get a load of this!” Toye called out to the guys when you breezed through the front door.

Liebgott standing at the bar looked over his shoulder upon feeling the cold air on the back of his neck. His jaw dropped when his eyes landed on you. He scanned your figure from head to toe.

Hair clean and perfumed pulled back into a neat fashionable bun and a face with fresh make-up and painted lips. And those gams (legs) emerging from the pencil skirt and heels and of course a clean white medic brassard displaying the Red Cross around the left bicep. You almost had the entire room at a complete standstill when you walked in.

“…Woah.” Joe whispered to himself, unaware that Talbert was near by.

“Not bad, eh, Lieb?” Tab teased.

He grimaced at Floyd and turned back to the bar to drink his beer.

The night was filled with laughter, darts, dancing, and liquor. Most of Easy had at least one dance around the room with you to favorites like Bing Crosby, Ella Fitzgerald, and The Andrew Sisters. You had just finished a dance with Toye sometime around midnight when a soldier from Dog Company had approached you.

“May I have this dance?” He asked politely with a slight bow.

Joe, standing with Buck, Luz, Babe, and Toye, watched with intensity from the dart boards.

“Maybe the next song.” You reply kindly, having just sat down for the first time in an hour.

“Come on, doll, ain’t no time like the present, right?” He insisted yanking you be the arm to the dance floor.

Liebgott’s clenched jaw and furrowed eye brows caught the attention of Toye.

“Hey, uh, you ok there, Lieb?”

Joe looked at Toye inquisitively.

“Yeah, why?”

“Well, you look a little…pissed.” Toye said plainly.

“Well, I ain’t.” Joe retorted.

He looked back at the dance floor to see where you were but was suddenly concerned he couldn’t find you right away. He saw the unknown soldier had taken you to the bar to get you a drink.

He handed you a pint and insisted you drink the whole thing.

“You said you could drink me under the table, so prove it!” He said.

“Fine, just this once.” You accepted.

You started to chug the pint, but when you started to lower the glass before it was empty, the soldier tilted the bottom up so you’d keep drinking. You finished and propped the glass open side down on the surface of the bar.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go back to my-“ you started before the soldier grabbed your upper arm.

“Oh we ain’t done here, honey.” He declared.

You tried to pull yourself out of his grasp but he pulled you in by the waist to hold you close.

“Get your meat hooks off of me.” You warned through clenched teeth.

“Or what?” He mocked.

“Or you’ll have half of Easy raining down on you.”

You hear a gravelly voice behind the brute soldier. He turned and there stood Joe Liebgott squaring up to him. Behind him Toye, Malarkey, Guarnere, and Luz.

“Come on, guys, there’s enough ladies here to go around, why can’t I have a little fun with this one?”

“Because she don’t wanna have fun with you.” Joe shot back, “Let her go.”

The soldier released your arm, as Liebgott gently tugged you behind him by your wrist.

“Enjoy the rest of your evening.” Liebgott said to him as they all walked with you to the dart boards.

Suddenly you feel Joe’s hand on the small of your back, guiding you to a more secluded spot in the back of the pub.

“What the fuck is the matter with you??” He sneered at you, positioning you against the wall to talk to you.

“Excuse me?”

“You fuckin’ heard me. Why would you put yourself in a position like that? That guy could’ve walked out with you easily with as much as you drank tonight.” He lectured.

“How do you know how much I’ve been drinking? And what business is it of yours who I’m interacting with anyway?” You returned crossing your arms.

Joe took in a deep breath through his nose as his anger started to elevate in his chest.

“If I wasn’t watching out for you, you would’ve gotten yourself into some real shit.”

He leaned in placing a hand against the wall you leaned on. His face hovering centimeters from your own. You feel his breath on your face, and notice his pupils blown out from what you thought was hate and detestation for you.

His eyes undressed you from your red lips down to your fitted blouse then looked into your eyes. Your breathe started to hasten, causing your chest to heave.

“You nervous?” Joe questioned.

Your breath caught in your throat.

“-no.” You breathed.

He moved closer to you, pinning you against the wall as your chests touched. Your arms relaxed to your sides as your nails dug into the brick behind you. You were, indeed, very nervous. And he knew it.

The scowl Joe had slowly curled into a mischievous grin.

“I think you are.” He whispered confidently as his hand cupped your cheek.

Your eyelashes fluttered, “Wh-what are you doing?” You managed to ask.

His thumb stroked your cheek, “Admiring the view.”

You released an exhale after holding your breath for almost 5 minutes.

“I thought you hated me?”

He brushed his nose against yours, “No. As a matter of fact, I always liked ya.”

“Then why-“

Before you could finish your sentence, he closed the gap between you, locking onto your lips like it was his dying wish.

You snake your arms carefully around his neck as he pulled you into him by your waist. You slack your jaw open to allow his tongue to run along your lips. You nip his bottom lip playfully causing his hips to thrust into you.

You yanked at his jacket, pulling him into you again to feel his hard on against you. He groaned into your mouth.

“What are you doin’ doll?” He asked with a devilish grin.

“I really don’t know but-“ you pull him in again, bringing his earlobe gently between your teeth then whisper, “we can’t stop now.”

“Let’s get outta here.” Joe suggested ushering you out the back door.

~~~~~~~

You snuck off to one of the abandoned homes down the street from where you were and barely got through the door before you were undoing his belt. You kicked of your shoes into darkness then made your way up a flight of stairs leaving pieces of your uniforms trailing the steps as you ascended.

When you were down to your slip and him down to his briefs, you scamper off to an open bedroom hoping he’d chase you…which he did. You kneeled on the bed waiting for him to come to you. He approached standing at the bedside.

You seductively crawled over to the edge of the bed and suckled a trail of kisses from his collar bone all the way down the waistband of his underwear. Joe inhaled deeply through is nostrils as he closed his eyes in ecstasy. You nip and licked at the sensitive area above his pubic line.

“Quit teasin’.” Joe purred.

“Or what?” You ask looking up at him through your lashes.

A joker like smile appeared across his face as he swiftly pushed you onto you back then crawled over you, caging you between his arms.

��You’re asked for it, sweeheart.” He proclaimed before locking onto your mouth again.

His hardened cock grinding into you, you wrap your legs around his waist to feel as much of his friction as possible. He pulls back and began pulling your slip over your head then sat back on his heels to remove his underwear.

He gaped at you laying in front of him. He ran his hand from your stomach up to one breast, groping it then repeating on the other. He hovered over you, enveloping one of your peaked nipples in his mouth. His tongue swirling over the tip while sucking had you writing beneath him. Sensing your pleasure he switched to the other, taking the tip between his teeth.

“Please, Lieb.” You beg.

“Joe.” He corrected.

You look at him.

“I want to hear you scream my name a hundred times before the end of the night.” He growled.

You beam at him, “Please, Joe.”

He palmed himself, pumping a few times before he lined himself up with your drenched opening. He glazed his tip with your wetness, groaning at the amount of saturation.

“I really did a number on you, didn’t I?” He goaded.

All you could do was smile coyly.

He pushed into you deliciously slow. You whimper, both of you feeling every bit of your tightness around him. He embraced you instinctively until he bottomed out. He pulled back gradually, then snapped his hips forward against you with a grunt.

“Jesus Christ, Y/F/N.”

“Please, Joe.” You implore quietly in his ear.

This triggers him as he begins spearing into you roughly. He sits up, propping your legs up where he can hold you around the thighs as he drives into, hitting that perfect spot so deep inside. You push against the headboard to steady yourself onto his dick, feeling that tightening feeling in your stomach as he chased your orgasm.

He watched your face expressions purposefully, feeding off how they changed as he switched up his pace.

“Joe…” you’d moan, spurring him on to go harder.

“Yeah, sweetheart, say it again.”

“My God, Joe…”

He brought his fingers to your clit, using your slick to vigorously rub the vulnerable bud as he continued to plunge in and out of you. He loved watching you get overstimulated as you try to paw at him to pull him back into kiss.

“Right there, Joe…keep goin’.” You lament.

“Yeah? Let it go, baby.” He leered as he railed into you at a heart stopping rate.

“Oh…my GOD, JOE!” You wailed as you dig your nails into his shoulders.

He kept his pace, making sure you ride out your high until the guttural noises that emitted from him as his hips started to stutter and his load coated your insides.

He remained on top of you and inside of you, holding you like a life line with sweat dripping from everywhere. Both of you breathing in sync, each of you trying to steady your heart rates.

After a moment, you decided to break the silence.

“That was…wow.”

Joe chuckled then rolled off of you as he positioned your head on his chest.

“Couldn’t have said it better myself, sweetheart.”

~~~~~~~

[mariaxxxxx]

Boy, I want your attention. (Bucky BarnesxReader!)

Summary: A meeting with the blue-eyed brunette takes you into an obsessive state where your only goal is to have his attention.

Warnings: 18+female masturbation, stalking, toxic, obsessive relationship, mention of psychological transport.

A/N:I've always read fanfics where Bucky was obsessed with the reader. Driven by curiosity, I wrote a version where the reader is obsessed with Bucky.

A/N: English is not my mother tongue. I apologize for any errors.

You know exactly when you fell in love with him; it was at one of the countless Avengers meetings, where Steve appeared accompanied by his grumpy friend Bucky Barnes. You were a little thing in the back of the room, just a viewer, a scientist who worked alongside Tony and Bruce in the laboratories developing technology. You weren't deadly and sexy like Natasha, Adorable and beautiful like Wanda, powerful and independent like Pepper. You were just You; a tiny thing with basic beauty hiding behind a big white coat.

In the beginning, you often bumped into him in the corridors with your good manners. You always said a loud good morning, but it was answered with a strange sound that came out of his mouth. It was stupid, you knew, but having that slight attention from him awakened a feeling in your heart that you had never experienced before. Every day you said good morning and were answered with grunts. Until, one winter morning, Bucky answered you in every syllable.

It was silly, but her heart leapt out of her chest at finally being noticed. From that day on, you established a strict routine to always have a good day. You woke up at four o'clock in the morning to get ready; she carried out a thorough skin cleansing, fixed her hair, shaved her arms and legs, put on makeup and chose beautiful clothes. You arrived at six on the dot, the time you would find him leaving the gym.

"Good morning." You said when you saw him walking down the hallway that morning. He was beautiful, perfect, in his natural element.

"Good morning." He replied.

You worked bouncing that morning having received his attention. The next morning you carried out the same process; waking up at four in the morning, a moment of beauty, going to work, receiving the much-loved good morning. The routine was slowly killing you, waking up so early wasn't doing you so much good and it was necessary to create an excuse for Bruce for you going to work so early.

“Your shift doesn’t start until 9am” Bruce said. “You don’t need to arrive 3 hours early.”

“It’s okay” You said. “I like to arrive early so I have time to be alone and get some things done.”

Bruce didn't seem to believe his excuses, but decided not to argue. You lived close to the tower so arriving so early sounded strange to the others, so to throw them off you created a version of yourself who was addicted to work. The first to arrive and the last to leave. Tony even congratulated you on your professional performance, your colleagues patted you on the back and Bruce exclaimed how useful you were. The routine was taking its toll on your health, but it was worth doing all this to get his attention.

Time passed and his recent compulsion only increased. You watched him and wished he was yours at the same time. You said “good morning” every morning when you really wanted to say how much you were in love with him, You wanted to be his, You wanted to be his girl. You committed yourself to discovering his routine in the hope of having more dates with Bruce's help, it wasn't difficult.

“So…” You started to speak while leaning on an analysis counter. “...Is the Winter Soldier really adapting?”

Bruce typed on the computer and stared at the screen.

“It's been difficult for him, but everyone is helping. He knows how to adapt back to society.”

It was a gift that Bruce was a man so out of touch with real life. It was almost a sin how easy it was to get little bits of information out of him.

“It must be scary to be used as a toy.”

"And yes." Bruce muttered. “He is doing well with therapy.”

“Does he go to therapy?” The question came out too abruptly to the point of interrupting Bruce in his activities.

"Why the interest?" He questioned, looking at you intently.

“I'm madly obsessed with him and I want to know everything.” You said in a sarcastic tone.

"It is clear." Bruce said equally sarcastic. “Please don’t go around selling information to journalists.”

"No." You mumbled. “I just think it's kind of scary to have a deadly, unstable killer living under the same roof. I mean, I would be very scared.”

“We all deserve a second chance.” With that the conversation ended.

You felt happy knowing that Bucky was moving forward with his problems. The atrocity committed by HYDRA against Sergeant Barnes was no secret; for the public, the Winter Soldier was going through a healing process before facing criminal charges for his crimes. There was a strict description of what processes were being taken. Now, you knew two things about him: his morning trips to the gym and his therapy.

(…)

Through Jackie, a nice front desk girl with a big tongue, you found out about Bucky's therapist. To his delight, he consulted in the tower with a therapist with a funny name whose name You didn't bother to remember. The room's corridor was to the north, far from his usual laboratory, which made it difficult to create an excuse to walk through those corridors. The good morning still happened, but you were getting greedy. No alternatives You decided to tell Tony and Bruce how excessive work was giving you anxiety attacks, afraid of losing your best scientist, the duo decided to refer you to the building's therapist. You were happy, indeed. Now he would have something in common to talk about with Bucky and the chances of bumping into each other in the hallway were greater.

The first appointment would take place on Monday after office hours. You got ready in the bathroom, sharing the intention of looking as beautiful as possible for him. Her luck didn't accompany her that day, as she didn't find Bucky in the corridors in the morning and faithfully hoped that he was in therapy. Did not happen. Her disappointed face became apparent when she didn't see him in the waiting room.

"Hello." The therapist said the moment you sat down in front of her. What brings you here today?”

"Anxiety."

The conversation with the therapist was pleasant, but disappointing. After an hour and a half of talking about how anxiety can be neutralized with exercise and regular appointments, you were released. On the way home You reflected on your love, on Bucky. How cruel and painful it must have been to have your autonomy taken away and restored in an unfamiliar world. He must be devastated, You thought. That's why he needed you. You could take care of him, give him a good life and be the perfect companion. You decided to keep going to therapy sessions in the hope of one day meeting him and kept waking up at dawn to look pretty for him.

(…)

“We can go to the cinema tomorrow” Wanda said excitedly. “I'm sure Jennifer Aniston's new movie will be funny.”

"It is clear." You mumbled.

After your fruitless attempts to find Bucky in therapy failed and the hallway encounters ceased to exist You hatched another plan to get closer to him; be friends with an avenger. Sure, there was Bruce and Tony, but it was all very professional and it would be difficult to explain the friendship between a young girl and two middle-aged men. Steve was busy, Pepper traveled too much, Natasha was inaccessible, Vision was a machine and Wanda... It was Wanda, the little girl with no family and no country. It was easy to become friends with her. All it took was one meticulously planned meeting by You in the elevator and BOOM! BEST FRIENDS FOREVER.

Wanda was his free pass to the Avengers floor. It wasn't unusual, or strange, to see You wandering the halls with your newest friend or alone. You saw Bucky more often; sometimes on the sofa with his sulky face, sometimes in the kitchen devouring a sandwich and sometimes in the minibar with a glass of whiskey. You learned new things about him. He didn’t sleep well at night so he went to the gym so early, the therapy was helping, but he hated going to therapy, referring to therapy as ‘’a shitty obligation’’. He was a sentimental man too, with his sullen and closed-off manner he had mixed feelings for his now teammate; he loved Steve and supported Sam, he liked Bruce but hated Tony with his arrogance, he feared Wanda, was nice to Vision and kept his distance from Natasha.

The new discovery kept you immensely happy; Bucky refused to go on dates or even meet other people. You once caught Steve complaining to Sam how Bucky was closed off to the world and avoided the company of the opposite gender. You were happy that your man was so faithful to you.

Meeting Bucky was always a balm for your heart; however he never spoke directly to You. On a good day You could get a good day or good night out of him, but these moments were rare and happened very quickly. You even tried to improve his appearance a little more to please him; He kept his hair always tidy, his clothes were discreet with refined touches, his nails were always done, his lips were always painted. Nothing worked. The man never looked directly into your eyes no matter how hard You tried.

“We should go to the park too.” Exclaimed Wanda, breaking You out of your thoughts. “I’ve never been to Central Parque.”

You held back the urge to roll your eyes at such a silly quote. It was girls' night at the roast, in her room. You were praying for Wanda to sleep and for You to be free to put your plan into action.

“There’s nothing much at Central Parque. Just beggars and rats.” You said to correct yourself immediately. “I promise I will go on a sightseeing tour by your side. Let's get to know all the good parts of New York. Away from rats, squirrels and drug addicts.”

“Are there places like this in New York?” She questioned as she wrapped herself in a blanket.

"Oh yes. There are truly good places in New York. I’ll make sure to take you to all the cool places.”

Around four in the morning, Wanda fell into a deep sleep giving You the opportunity to escape. You walked through the hallways carefree since if you were caught, which could easily happen, you would say you were going to the terrace to get some fresh air. Your feet headed towards Bucky's room, a familiar path but never before explored. According to his information, at this time he would be at the gym using all his energy to combat insomnia. That gave you a few hours to explore his room.

The door wasn't locked and when you opened the door, his woodsy smell reached your nostrils, as if he had pressed his body against your face. You enter the room, closing the door behind you. You sniffed the air, overwhelmed by the multitude of smells that circulated the environment. Bucky was perfect to the point of making his scent addictive.

“Bucky?” You call his name softly, slowly crossing the room and looking at the perfectly made bed.

You knew he wouldn't be there, but you created the fantasy in your head that you were a secret girlfriend and were going to see him in the early hours of the morning. Tonight, You would be his girl; I would put on his blouse, lie in his bed, put her head on his pillow and imagine being fucked until her brain melted.

Her eyes thoroughly analyze the environment around her; it was tidy, perfectly tidy. The room was spacious with large glass windows covered with a long navy blue curtain. The bed was large with white sheets. The closet, his favorite part, had several clothes that ranged from the most casual to combat clothes. You play with some pieces of clothing in the closet; smelling, pressing against his body, running his hands, imagining it to be his transformed chest.

"Beautiful." You mutter when you come across a cabin boy wearing black blouses. Your man liked black and so did you, he looked great in dark colors.

You remove your clothes piece by piece; first the shirt, the pajama pants, the bra. Stripping down to just black lace panties. You take one of the black blouses off the hanger and put it on. A comforting feeling fills your body with the fabric brushing against your skin; it was as if his hands were on your body; passing her hands over her shoulders, down to her breasts, going a little further down, passing over her belly and stopping at her pussy. You turn off the lights in the closet and head towards the bed, where you lay down on his scarves, where your head rests on his pillow.

Your panties dampened at the thought of having Bucky on top of you, on top of you, fucking your pussy with his dick until you reduced your spirit to dust. Resolving to deal with your throbbing clit and neglected pussy, You sat with your back to the headboard, took off your panties, spread your legs and started playing with yourself. You slid your middle finger over her slit, then brought it back and started circling her clit, slowly, very slowly, like he did in his dream. It was torturous, almost painful, to deny himself climax.

You closed your eyes and focused on the sensation, your hips began to move involuntarily in search of more contact, you decided not to torture yourself any longer and began to move your fingers faster. It was close. Her pussy was wet like it had never been before and clenched in anticipation of release. You removed your finger from your clit and moaned at the lack of contact, tears forming in your eyes as your climax was interrupted. You closed your eyes, and started brushstroking again, a movement that provoked yourself. But you didn't do that for long. After a few movements, you started to pick up speed. You moaned softly, moving your finger faster and faster over the swollen organ. His other hand grabbed her soft breast, pinching the hardened nipple hard. It was so close. You squeezed the nipple harder, lifted your hips and came. You moved your hand away from your now sensitive pussy and relaxed onto the mattress. Her body softened with the intensity of her climax. It was the first time you had reached a peak as strong as this.

“Don’t stop because of me.” A deep voice echoes through the room. “Come on girl, keep going. I’m enjoying the view.”

You open your eyes, scared and panting, to find Bucky standing at the foot of the bed with his arms behind his back staring at you. Your stomach tightens in nervousness from being caught and your heart pounds from being so close to him. It was him. Bucky. Your Bucky. The man of your life.

“I...” You try to speak, try to explain yourself, but only disjointed noises come out of your mouth. You didn't want him to see you like this. Bucky was an old-fashioned man, coming from the 40s. You believed he preferred a sweeter, more demure version of a girl willing to be a housewife who would do anything for her man. For him, You would play this role. You'd throw a hundred years of women's rights out the window to be that man's.

Bucky moved to the opposite side of the bed, giving you a sullen look before taking off his shirt and exposing his chest. His eyes fell to the scars on the border between his arm and his shoulder, it was horrible and beautiful.

“You know, I didn’t expect You to have the courage to one day approach me.” He said as he started to push his pants down his legs. Suddenly, he's there, wearing nothing but black boxers. His mouth is almost watering, but his brain is on alert. This wasn’t the Bucky You knew, this wasn’t the low-key, moody Bucky.

"I need to go." You say in disbelief at his action. You push your body off the bed only to be thrown back between the pillows.

“What’s wrong, kitten?” Bucky murmurs imitating a cute voice. “You always wanted this. Do you really think I didn't notice your attempts to get my attention? Even therapy You found a way to go just to be by my side.”

"How do you know that?" You ask in disbelief.

“I'm a fucking trained assassin, girl. I know when I'm being watched.” Bucky puts his knees on the bed hovering over You. “At first I thought she was a Hydra agent, then I realized she was just a crazy little girl desperate for attention.”

Those words really hurt you. Is that what he thought about you? Just a crazy girl clamoring for a man's attention? His heart broke when he realized how Bucky seemed to despise You, hate You. It wasn't supposed to be like this. His eyes started to water.

"Not talk like that." You asked in a sad whisper. Bucky let out a sarcastic chuckle through his mouth.

“Do you really think I didn’t notice your attempts to please me? I noticed his changing appearance and his ridiculous attempts to get closer. At first, I was going to let it go, but I wanted to know how far You would go. I just had to give you the rope to hang yourself.”

"All this time..."

"Yes." Bucky stops you. “I liked the attempts to get my attention. Cum! Waking up at 4am to get ready pretending to have anxiety attacks just to go to my therapist and creating a friendship with an Avenger just to be closer to me. Woman, you are crazy!”

His words really, really irritated you. You tried to push him off the bed and walk away, only to be pushed hard onto the soft mattress with Bucky on top of you, his hands on the side of your head.

"Skirt!" You demand as you push, or rather try to push the man was as heavy as a statue made of marble.

"No." He says with clear amusement in his voice. “I like crazy women. I felt special having someone go out of their way to please me.”

"Did you like it?" You ask in disbelief.

"Yes. You are so dedicated and persistent, I like that. A little obsessive-compulsive, but nothing I can't handle.” Bucky praises, as he looks straight into your eyes. “Now open your legs.”

[recurring-polynya]

In one of my other fanfics, I made an allusion to a story from Rukia and Renji's youth where she got nervous about the size of her chest and made Renji give an opinion on the matter. I was always very charmed by the idea of it, and earlier this week, I felt like writing it, so I did. Originally, I didn't intend to post it, because it skirts a little close to underage sex stuff, but a) they're immortal ghosts and they live on their own and become child soldiers like two years later, and b) it's really nothing. Teens, even human teens, can see a boob. It's fine. Don't read it if it bothers you. Also, if this bears resemblance to multiple stories I have written in the past, it's because I think Rukia is just like that. This will probably not be the last one, either.

Rated a hearty PG-13 for cussing, partial nudity, and some adolescent sexual awakening

| read on ao3 |

"Renji," said Rukia. "I need your opinion on something."

Renji had been breaking up sticks to dry out for firewood around the backside of the broken-down squat he and the gang had been trying to get into shape for their winter digs. He wiped the sweat off his forehead with the back of his arm. "My opinion?" he grumbled. "Is everyone else off somewhere?" It suddenly occurred to him that he hadn't heard anyone else's voice in a while.

"Well, yes," Rukia mumbled. "They went into the woods to try and set some traps and maybe do some foraging. But I'm not asking because you're the only one around. I was waiting to ask you until everyone was busy."

That got Renji's attention. This was not the first time Rukia had cornered him like this. He assumed she did this to the other guys, too, but he didn't actually know for certain. Renji tossed the stick in his hand back onto the pile and turned to give Rukia his full attention. She was standing in a funny way, her arms crossed awkwardly over her chest. She looked almost like she was cold, except that it was early September and still sweltering.

"What's up?" he asked.

"You're going to wonder why I am asking you this," she said, her eyes fixed somewhere off to one side, "and it's because I'm trusting you not to be weird about it. Everyone else would try, but then they would be weird about it, and I know you won't be."

Renji continued to regard her silently. She wasn't asking anything particular of him, just stating what she expected. Renji decided he liked the idea of being a guy who wasn't weird about stuff, and decided he would do his best to uphold that trust. He was also prepared for whatever she was going to say next to be spectacularly weird. This was Rukia, after all.

"Also," she said, "you go around with your shirt off all the time. You're the least self-conscious person I know about. You know. Body stuff."

An alarm signal went zinging through Renji's nervous system. It was true that he wasn't all that concerned about bodies, his own or other people's. A long time ago, he'd had to make a decision about Rukia's body, which he sometimes had to touch and slept next to at night and had seen naked more than a few times. She'd become a little secretive about that recently, and he'd taken care to respect that decision and avert his eyes when he needed to and made sure all the other guys did too. The decision he had made was that Rukia's body was exactly like Fujimaru's and Mameji's and Kosaburou's, which was to say, it was a thing that existed but was none of his business, unless say, she needed an injury patched up or something like that.

"Something wrong?" he asked gruffly.

"Not-- well, I don't know. That's what--that's what the opinion is for."

Renji rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm really not sure I'm the right person to ask. I know the old herb lady is pretty deep in her own brain most the time, but if you catch her on a good day, she knows a lot of stuff about--"

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Renji, I just want to know if my boobs are good or not!"

Renji stared at her. Rukia's face was beet red now.

"Uh…what?"

Rukia made a little huffing noise. "Look. I know you know I've been binding my chest for a while now."

Renji shrugged noncommittally. Rukia hadn't been particularly shy about letting them see her in her chest wrap. A lot of girls in Inuzuri did. Usually, it was a safety measure.

"I think they might be done growing. I'm worried they're…well, they're kinda small."

Renji ran his fingers through his hair and tried not to look at her. "Seems like that would make them easier to bind, no?"

"Well…yes, that's true."

"It's not like it's something you can control. You shouldn't worry about it."

"I just don't know! Maybe they're fine actually! I'm the only one who gets to see them and I think I may have gotten too wrapped around my own axle about it and I just wanted a second opinion, okay?"

Renji sighed. "Okay. Sure. If it'll make you feel better."

Rukia took a deep breath and then lowered her arms. Nervously, she tugged at her yukata below the sash to get it adjusted properly.

There was now the slightest curve in the fabric between her shoulders and her waist. Renji wasn't sure he even would have noticed it if she were just some girl he saw on the street. But that curve was there, and it was doing something weird to the pit of his stomach.

Cleavage was no rare sight in Inuzuri. Both in the streets and the gambling halls, plenty of women kept theirs on display for, uh, business reasons. Renji could tell the difference between the more and less attractive sets, but he'd never been quite as excited by the prospect of a hearty set of tits as some of his peers. He didn't think this constituted any kind of moral high ground. The fact was, he was just mostly into dudes. A pair of well-muscled forearms or a particularly sharp jawline was usually more likely to do him in. But there was something about that mysterious curve, the suggestion of tits, of Rukia's tits…

"They look fine to me," he announced.

Rukia looked down at them and frowned thoughtfully.

A strange, slightly foreign thought, possibly a stray memory from his human life, popped into Renji's brain. "Isn't there even--like with fancy kimono--aren't you supposed to make a smooth profile? Maybe you've just got a fancy-lady figure."

Some of the color had receded from Rukia's cheeks. "Why do you always know these things? Also--fat lot of good that's going to do me."

Renji shrugged. "What kinda good were you hoping they were gonna do you, anyway? I mean, you wouldn't wanna-- that is--" He grimaced, thinking about business reasons again.

"I might like to kiss someone, someday!" Rukia declared, cheeks going hot once more. "I'd like…to be worth looking at. You're going to be ten feet tall and have shoulders for days and you've already got that hair, so I realize that's something you've probably never once thought about."

Renji stared at her uncomprehendingly. "You think I'm good-looking?"

Rukia seemed to be staring at something over her shoulder. "You're certainly striking."

Renji had honestly never thought about himself in that way before. Mostly, he thought he'd stuck out in a way that was mostly pretty inconvenient, given their skulking and pickpocketing lifestyle.

"You have an interesting voice," he pointed out, drawing the words out as he tried to think of more things a theoretical person who was not him might find attractive about Rukia. "And you're good at a lot of things." She also had a pretty face, maybe the prettiest face he'd ever seen in Inuzuri, with big blue eyes that you could just fall into. He couldn't say all that shit, though. It would just embarrass both of them, plus she would think he was lying to make her feel better. He wasn't. It wasn't even, like, his opinion, it was just the objective truth.

Rukia huffed again, clearly unsatisfied.

Renji threw up his arms. "They're under your clothes! Wouldn't you rather kiss someone who likes you because you're cool, rather than because you've got a nice pair of knockers? Which isn't even to say they aren't nice! You just can't tell! They could be great under there. That's it's own kind of allure. The-- the, uh, mystery." He regretted saying it the moment it was out of his mouth. This always happened with Rukia, though. He was always telling on himself.

Rukia stared at him for a long moment. Then she hooked her finger over the closure of her yukata and pulled it away, staring down into the depths.

"Are we done?" Renji asked, trying to sound bored and failing when his voice wavered on the last word.

Rukia looked back up at him. "You've never even see a naked girl-tit, have you, Abarai?"

Renji wrinkled his nose. "Not…not really, no. Not…head-on."

Rukia set her jaw. "Okay. We're doing this."

"What--" stammered Renji. "What are we doing? We don't need to--"

Rukia pulled her yukata wide and shimmied her shoulders loose.

Renji swallowed thickly.

He had changed his mind. He did, in fact, like girls. Fuck, did he like girls.

Rukia's breasts were small, that was just a fact. They were also gorgeous. Smooth and straight on top, ending in a sharp, rosy nipple. They curved gently on the underside back to where they rejoined her body, like two ripe, blushing pears. Renji could imagine cupping one in his hand, the way it would fit in his palm perfectly. He squeezed his hands into fists, reminding himself that they were dirty and covered in small bits of bark from breaking the sticks. He absolutely could not reach out and touch them, even beyond the possibility that Rukia would murder him if he did (would she, though? He wondered). It turned out this was a mistake, because now he was thinking about kissing Rukia's breasts, about the way they would taste, how he could take nearly the whole of one in his mouth. He squeezed his eyes shut. "Fuck, Rukia, put your shirt back on!"

"They can't be that bad," Rukia grumbled.

"They're not, they're really good! Surprisingly good! You should save them for whoever it is you want to kiss! Please put your shirt back on!"

"You're so weird," Rukia laughed, and he was glad to hear the ring of relief in her voice.

There was a long pause with a few rustles of fabric being adjusted. Renji chanced to unsqueeze one eye to see if she was dressed again. He was just in time to see her cross the second side of her yukata over the first, catching a last glimpse of a pretty little tit before the fabric settled over it. A secret once again, but no longer a mystery. Fuck.

"You can open your eyes now, you big baby," Rukia announced, reknotting her sash. Evidently she hadn't noticed him peeking. She wasn't even blushing anymore. "Thank you."

"I don't know why you asked me," Renji mumbled. "You know I'm no good at being reassuring and shit like that."

"I didn't want you to be reassuring," she replied, looking up and favoring him with a brilliant smile. "I wanted you to be honest. Which…clearly you were. I don't know what else that could possibly have been."

"Shut up," said Renji.

Rukia snorted softly. "Do you wanna go find the others and fix their snares for them? I'm sure they've set them up wrong."

"I wanna finish dealing with these sticks first," Renji replied. It took his entire strength of will to unclench his hands and pick up a stick, a long, heavy one. He winced when it broke much more easily than he had expected it to. The sound of it was deafening.

"I can help," Rukia said cheerfully, picking up another stick and snapping the side branches off it expertly, humming while she worked.

Renji picked up another stick, and suddenly wished the pile was bigger than it actually was.

"Hey, Renji?"

"What now?"

"They really are--?"

"Yes. Don't ask me again."

Rukia gave a little chuckle, and so softly that he almost didn't hear it, added, "Huh. Who knew?"

[darth-mortem]

Here is a small fanfic about König and Horangi based on this wonderful art.

Fluff, comfort, drunk Horangi. 724 words.

König carefully sat down on the ammo boxes, settling Horangi on his knees. Hong Jin murmured something in Korean, sighed, and leaned his head on the Austrian's shoulder, trying to hide his face. König had never seen him this drunk and didn’t quite know what to do about it. When he found Horangi near their stash of alcohol, he could no longer stand on his feet, so König carried him in his arms to the armory, where they could sit on the boxes away from the curious eyes of the other soldiers. 

"It's cold." Hong Jin said, snuggling against his big boyfriend. 

König looked at him, bewildered. They could go to their housing block, to the barracks, but for some reason, he didn’t want their comrades to see Hong Jin in that state. 

"It's cold." Horangi repeated and made a sound very similar to a sniffle. 

"Just give me a moment, Liebling." König soothed, stroking Hong Jin's head. 

Looking around, he sighed and, holding his boyfriend with one hand, took off his sniper hood and put it on him. Horangi clumsily tried to pull it tighter, and König helped so he could see his dark eyes through the openings. The Korean quieted for a few minutes and then looked at his boyfriend and laughed in surprise. 

"What's wrong?" König asked. 

"Where's your hood?" Horangi touched the Austrian's face, covered by a black balaclava, and laughed again. 

König smiled too, until he realized that Hong Jin wasn't joking. More confused, he tilted his head, looking into his boyfriend's drunken eyes. 

"Are you feeling warmer?" he asked. 

"Yes." Hong Jin stretched, but the logical chain didn’t form in his head; however, he had already forgotten his question and abruptly changed the subject. "I want you. Let's fuck right now." 

König's face turned red. He felt Horangi's fingers trying to unbutton his pants and quickly grabbed his hand, lifting it to his face and touching it with his lips through the dense fabric of the balaclava. 

"We're outside, Liebling." He muttered in confusion. "Someone might see us." 

"I don't care!" Hong Jin declared too loudly for the nighttime silence on the base. "Don't you love me?!" 

"I love you very much." König assured him. "But it's too cold to do that here." 

"Then why are we here?" Horangi asked in surprise, looking around as if he had just realized they were indeed sitting outside in the middle of this frosty winter night. 

"You’re drunk." The Austrian said as if that explained everything. 

"Absolutely not!" Horangi frowned and jumped off König's knees. "See? I'm completely sober!" 

He tried to take a few steps, but his legs tangled, and he almost fell. The Austrian hurried to catch him and set him back on his knees. Hong Jin snorted and then sighed, leaning against his boyfriend's broad chest. 

"Well, maybe a little." He admitted reluctantly. "I... I was sad." 

"Why?" König asked, tensing as if he were about to get up right now and beat the shit out of anyone who troubled his beloved Tiger. 

"I can't remember." Hong Jin replied desperately, sniffing. 

"It's okay, Liebling." König said as gently as he could, pulling Horangi against his chest. "It's okay now. I'm here." 

"Yes." Hong Jin fumbled, settling in more comfortably. "I'm tired." 

"Then sleep a little." König tucked his fingers under the hood and stroked his cheek. "Rest, okay?" 

Horangi closed his eyes, trustingly pressing against his Austrian. He was big and warm and hugged so pleasantly, continuing to softly speak, and seemed to even quietly hum some simple, calming melody. The Korean couldn’t make out the words, maybe because he was really very drunk, or perhaps because König was singing to him in German. As he began to drift off to sleep, he thought he needed to ask his boyfriend about it later when he woke up. 

When König finished humming the lullaby, Hong Jin was already sound asleep. After sitting for a bit longer, he lifted his boyfriend in his arms and went to the barracks. Other soldiers stared at them as the Austrian tucked his boyfriend into bed, and he glared at them in displeasure. 

"What?" He asked irritably. "He’s tired. And cold."

After exchanging glances, the others returned to their business or to sleep, and König, taking off his hood from Horangi, joined the latter.

[mysweeetbucky]

Bucky fanfics please???

I'm really upset with what MCU is apparently doing to Bucky in Thunderbolts, turning him into The Winter Soldier again and making him a bad guy (they threw some 'bad and worse guys' shit ew). It's even more unsettling to me that some fans believe Bucky wants to kill and fuck up☠ as if TFATWS didn't happen at all? So I just need some soft, real Bucky FFs to keep me sane, hopefully picking up from TFATWS, or even rewriting whatever is the gist of Thunderbolts (like him leaving problematic shit like Congress behind and being happy with MC/YN, him being in the actual Avengers with Sam). Just him being his normal self who has peace with Y/N. Find me some FFs or write some idk just give me something 😭 I already miss TFATWS Bucky

[meetinginsamarra]

Fanfics I Really Liked in January 2024

So. Since I keep a list of what I´ve read anyway (there´s always a list), I will rec all the fics I´ve wholly enjoyed on a monthly basis. Old and new, canon or AU, big or small authors, long or short but nearly always Johnlock (-ish).

carrying up his morning tea by darcylindbergh

After Mrs Hudson's death, Sherlock is lonelier and more depressed than ever. Before she passed, she made Sherlock promise to reach out to an estranged John whom Sherlock has not seen or spoken to in two years. JOhn still does not know what happened dring the hiatus and Sherlock still does not know Rosie.

Very sad at the beginning, the fic slowly but surely lets them finally heal.

Full Mount by ArwaMachine @arwamachine

After Sherlock returns from the dead, John finds himself inexplicably angry all the time. So he joins a Mixed Martial Arts gym. As John joins in on underground no-holds-barred brawls, situations arise that just might force John to face what is really going on underneath all the rage.

Fighting frees the mind and makes room for revelations.

A Midnight Clear by khorazir @khorazir

It’s Christmas Eve, and Sherlock is working because he doesn’t need Christmas or even company. Until a series of strange encounters on his way back to Baker Street makes him reconsider.

Lovely fic that lets SHerlock contemplate life and what is really important to him.

Locked Room by Calais_Reno @calaisreno

John wakes up in a locked room, unable to remember how he got here. The last thing he remembers is his hands covered in blood, trying to keep a soldier from dying. His roommate also seems to be suffering from amnesia, and has decided that John is a delusion.

Suspenseful premise and a cool twist!

Nothing Gold Can Stay and Lying in Winter and A Moment Still Ajar by Raina_at @raina-at

There are so many occasions when John could have said something but didn't. And didn't and didn't until the reader really wants to kick John (or throttle the author) and then - finally - he does. Then the reader wants to high-five John (and kiss the author).

3 fics, best to be read in order.

[saiilorstars]

For Better Days | Ch. 1

Fears Within

One Shot Series || Bucky Barnes x OFC

Story Summary: For some reason, Bucky always keeps Chloe out of their joint missions and Chloe's had enough. It's time for Bucky to explain himself.

Taglist: @ocappreciationtag​ @arrthurpendragon​​​​​ ​​​​ @maaaaarveeeeel​​​​ @stareyedplanet​​​​​​​​ @gloryekaterina​​ @lenonizi​ @averyhotchner​​ @foxesandmagic @kmc1989 @caplanbuckybarnes​​​​​​​​​​​​

Story Masterlist • Chloe’s Masterlist​​

Also available on Fanfic ○ Ao3 ○ Wattpad

If you’d like to be a part of this OC’s work/edits, let me know!

The road was a clear one-way. The target was at the front and there were 3 more tailing it. In a few swift movements, Bucky revved up his motorbike and took the three tailgates out and swerved his bike to a stop. He took aim on the target, readying himself to fire when he spotted something in the distance — a tall blonde figure standing in the middle of the road, all the way across.

Chloe stood tall and confident on the road, watching the car racing towards her.

So many thoughts ran through Bucky's head in those seconds and they all brought him to the verge of a good spiral. The ex-Winter Soldier…spiraling.

And yet Chloe remained like a statue on the road, waiting.

Eventually, the car was forced to swerve violently off the road. A bright blue wall appeared out of thin air and the car crashed straight into it.

The blue glow in Chloe's eyes faded seconds after the blue wall came down. In a few more minutes, the sound of Bucky's bike drew closer.

"Chloe!" His voice was filled with anger. He got off his bike carelessly and stalked over to her. "The hell are you doing here!?"

Chloe wasn't phased by his anger and merely looked to the side. Their targets were climbing out of the broken, crashed car. "Speeding things up, what else?"

Bucky grabbed her arm and turned her attention back to him. "Get out of here!"

"I'm gonna need you to stop," Chloe said calmly, her fingers digging into his flesh hand gripping her arm. "We got what we needed."

Bucky knew she was right. The targets were secured and he would easily transport them back to Valentina, but that was not the point and Chloe knew it.

"She told me the mission and I wanted to help," Chloe said like she had read his thoughts. "The quicker we do, the less you have to see her face, right?"

Her smile, while beautiful as always, didn't help the situation. Bucky still hated that she was there. Unfortunately for him, Chloe was very apt at upholding his hard stares. They no longer phased her.

"I'm bringing them back. You get out of here," he said with a finality in his voice.

"Seriously?" Chloe sighed, annoyed, and watched him head off towards the crashed car. This man and his ideas…

"Go home, Chloe!"

~0~

It would be days later when Chloe heard about Bucky again. She expected him to pop by her place for a better explanation about his poor attitude at work but according to Valentina, he was going to be very busy for a while.

Chloe waited an appropriate time before deciding enough was enough. She tolerated Bucky's choices but not when he crossed lines and this was one of those moments.

She knocked on his door one evening, letting him know that she was not going to leave until he let her in and they talked. Just like she knew him, he knew her and he knew that she was not kidding.

And so Bucky opened the door and there she stood, confident and yet clearly annoyed with him. The fact he was still sporting fresh cuts and bruises did nothing to calm her down.

"Guess that means you finally finished the mission?" she said on her way inside.

Bucky closed the door behind her and walked in behind her. "I was going to…call…"

Chloe turned around, shooting him an 'are you sure about that?' kind of look. "Acting like we've never done this before is not going to get you out of trouble, James." She turned away and walked into the hallway, disappearing.

Bucky sighed to himself and rubbed his forehead. He was in deep trouble, that much was obvious, but he had really hoped he would get at least another morning to come up with better words for her.

Chloe returned a few minutes later with a first aid kit that she herself had left under his bathroom sink. Despite not living together, her touches were still very prominent in the apartment. She had no idea how special they were to Bucky.

"Sit down, sergeant," she ordered casually and pointed him to the couch while she opened the kit.

"You know it's not necessary, Chlo," Bucky said, and yet he was still walking over to the couch anyway.

"Yeah, yeah, 'I heal super fast'," Chloe playfully rolled her eyes, "No need to rub it in."

Bucky half smiled at her. She sat down with him and looked him over. He had several little cuts along his cheeks and prominent bruises on his flesh arm.

"Dare I ask what the hell was Valentina's mission this time?" she said, inspecting the cuts on his cheek. Most of them were superficial (either that or they were already healing).

"A hell of a mess," Bucky said, leaving it at that.

"Bet it would have been less of a mess if you had let me help you," Chloe muttered and shot him a sharp look. He had the good sense to look guilty. She smirked. "You are so adorable when you look like that." Bucky rolled his eyes, but she could see the faint blush on his cheeks. She chuckled. "Come here you dunce."

She scooted closer to him; she already had everything set up with the kit. It wasn't the first time they did something like this. She turned his head to the side. "This might sting a little…"

Her warning was futile as the moment the cotton ball touched his skin, he hissed.

"Suck it up already." Chloe dabbed the pad around his cheek, ignoring every hiss that Bucky gave.

"I get the feeling that this is a form of revenge…" Bucky mumbled, side-eyeing her as best as he could in his position.

"Maybe…" shrugged Chloe, "But you'll never know."

Bucky's lips spread into a smile. Of course. "I am sorry, you know…"

"Mm, and just like the times before and like you'll be when you do the same thing again."

A slipped through Bucky's lips. "Chlo…"

"You do the same thing every time there's a mission for us," Chloe said, replacing the pad with a new one. She turned Bucky's head to the other side and started on his other cheek. "You boot me out of every mission we're put together in. You always find a way."

"That's not true…"

"Then try to sound convincing at least, because you sure as hell don't sound like it. I love you, but I also have my limits."

"I know…"

"You told me to go home…"

Bucky winced. Yeah, he totally had.

"Like I was some little kid." Chloe put the pad down on the table and looked at him expectantly. "Did I do something to make you think that I can't handle a joint mission with you? Contrary to what people think about me, I'm not an airhead. I'm smart, I know how to handle myself on a mission. I know what I'm doing."

"I know, I know," nodded Bucky.

"Then why do you act like I don't?" Chloe raised a brow at him, expecting to hear a perfect answer from him that would explain his attitude every single mission they were paired together. "I don't get it. I thought we were the perfect pair."

"We are, I — it's not you, Chloe, it's me," Bucky said, leaving Chloe to laugh bitterly.

"Because that's what every girl wants to hear!"

"Chloe—"

"No, I-I don't understand you!" Chloe got up from the couch. "We're a team in every sense! We're dating, we're ex-Avengers, we're in sync about everything and yet the moment we hit a mission — boom! — you push me out!"

"You're exaggerating…" Bucky said weakly and he instantly regretted it.

"I am not!" she snapped. "Every single time we get assigned a mission, you either take off before me — like this last time — or you purposely give me something to do that inevitably forces me to stay behind! I can list every single mission but I can see you're exhausted and truthfully I don't want to waste my breath! All I want is for you to give me a reason!"

"You want a reason?" Bucky rose from the couch and seized her left arm.

"What are you doing!?" Chloe exclaimed as he pulled her sleeve up.

"These are a week old!" Bucky pointed at the litter of bruises on her arm.

"Yeah, and?" Chloe ripped her arm out of his grip. "I kicked his ass for it!"

"They're still here, Chloe, that's the point I'm trying to make! Every time you get a bruise or a cut or any other kind of injury, it stays there! It doesn't go away like mine do!"

"Yeah, because I don't have enhanced healing—"

"That's the point!" Bucky shouted irritably and silenced Chloe. "You don't heal fast which means if you get drastically hurt, you might not make it out and I'll be damned if I let that happen!"

Silence stretched between the two afterwards. Bucky seemed regretful about his outburst, not wanting to have placed that kind of burden on Chloe and much less senseless guilt. He loved her to bits and pieces and it killed him every time she got hurt. In their line of work, it was inevitable but he could make it so that it wouldn't happen. Yeah, he would find any excuse to get her out of a mission if he could.

"You are so stupid, Bucky," Chloe said with a heavy sigh, "But you're my stupid boyfriend…"

"What…?" Bucky expected a heated argument after his confession, not Chloe draping her arms over his shoulders and bringing them closer together.

"You have got to lighten up. I appreciate your gestures and your intentions but like I have been saying over and over, I can handle myself."

"I know, but I just want to make sure that you're okay all the time…" Bucky said, pressing his forehead against hers. "Every bruise and cut on your body is a moment where I didn't protect you."

"You're reaching," Chloe said with a light scoff. "We work in a very difficult environment. I'm in it as much as you are. You cannot blame yourself every time I fall and" — she pressed a finger against his lips as he went to interrupt her — "I'll remind you that for every time I've fallen, I have gotten back up."

Bucky nodded silently. She was right. She was very strong and not at all cowardly. She'd insert herself into any fight if she was needed, with or without powers. "I'm sorry, Chlo…"

"I know you are," Chloe whispered, "And the best way to make it up to me is by letting this go. By letting us work together, side by side, like the great team that we are."

"Do I really have to?" Bucky scrunched his nose. "Is there any chance I can interest you in a normal 9 to 5 job?" Chloe deadpanned him long and hard. "Right…" He cleared his throat. "Just had to try one more time."

Chloe rolled her eyes playfully. "You are such an idiot…and I am so in love with that same idiot…" She set her sights back on him and ultimately smiled. "I don't mind you taking care of me every once in a while but I want us to be 50/50 out on the field. Please?"

Bucky nodded at her. When she looked at him like that, with her big blue eyes, he couldn't say no to her. "Dammit…" he muttered.

Chloe laughed and gave him a big kiss on the lips. "Idiot!"

"Yeah, yeah," Bucky sighed.

Chloe pulled her sleeve back up and suddenly smirked. "I mean, if you're that concerned about my injuries, you can always kiss them away, you know?"

"Oh, really?" Bucky raised an eyebrow at her, trying not to laugh.

"Yeah, medically speaking, that works like 90% of the time."

"You are not a doctor, Chloe."

"I'm giving you a full pass to make out with me right now after you pissed me off and you're worried about logistics?"

"Good point." Bucky grabbed the sides of her face and dove for a kiss. He could hear her muffled giggles, feeling it against his lips as well. It definitely healed his injuries quicker as well...

A/N:

As always, I have Fanfic/Wattpad accounts under "noblecrescent" and a tumblr account under "saiilorstars" if you'd like to follow!

[jackiequick]

In fifty years, will all this be declassified? | Agents Of SHIELD Fanfic

Pairing: Amelia M. Parker & Grant Ward (WardParker)

Summary: In other words, suffering is worse than falling down low..

Characters feature/mentioned: Kara Palamas, Melissa Wallace, Marlene Kassdy, The Young Avengers

Timeline: Set a year after Captain America: The Winter Soldier (2014), Agents Of Shield Season 2 (2014-2015)

Warning: Mentions of torture, blood, needles, heartbreak and fighting

Fic Type: Angst

——

A/N: Goodness, someone help them all. Also sorry if it's a long fic! I hope you enjoy it ;) And yes I reference a Taylor Swift song as the title hehe

Inspired by: Agents Of Shield 2x21/22

—

Dry pastel lit color faded between the clouds, as the soft yet grime shades filled the room. 

The air thick with dust and the distant sound of wind howling against the cracked windows. A mild, yet faint screeching pierced the silence, mingling with the rhythmic dripping of water somewhere in the shadows.

The autumn chill that sinked though the cracks of the door made its way towards her body, responding her eyes to slowly flutter open. She squinted her eyes turning her around to see the area she was set in.

Confusion wrapped around her like a mask; the last thing she remembered was sifting through the scattered remnants of an old agent’s life in a deserted apartment, searching for files that could’ve been used for other purposes.

It was darkly and dimly lit when she made herself present in that apartment reaching for the last lines of the forgotten report, hearing a soft thud, a shadow looming behind her—then nothing.

Amelia blinked, forcing her mind to piece together the fragments, but all she grasp was the nagging dull pain against her neck. Her fingers twitching waking themselves up only to hit a wooden board. She glanced down to noticed her wrists were against a table, yet her ankles were tied backwards to the chair.

She tugged against the restraints, but they held firm, the rough fibers biting into her skin. Panic clawed at her throat as she took in her surroundings: the rusted beams overhead, the scattered debris underfoot, and the faint light filtering through the grime-coated windows.

With every strained breath, the cold air seeped deeper into her bones, heightening her senses. The screeching outside grew louder, mingling with the pounding of her heart.

Just then, a door creaked open somewhere in the warehouse, and her breath caught in her throat. Amelia huffed and winced catching sight of who it was.

Grant Ward.

Following behind him was Agent 33, Kara Palamas, an a former SHIELD agent. Her was brain given some deep suffering, due to memory loss from Daniel Whitehall and of course she was helped afterward, tested by Fitzsimmons, then she left again. More or less…

Grant smiled sitting across the table from her. One of fingers lightly pushes a strand of hair away from Amelia’s face to see her clearly. Grant will never admit it but he didn’t like having her kidnapped, but he needed SHIELD to reveal any information that had on the Projects and Daniel Whitehall.

Amelia was one of SHIELD most well known and possibly active agents they had. According to the rumor mill she was loved and appreciated, having help put The Young Avengers together, being his co-captain in the very beginning of Coulson’s team back in 2013 and the list went on.

But he knew that Amelia Parker only scratched the surface, of the people she was surrounded by. He knew that none of the recruits and so-called friends truly cared for her, watched her six. If they did care, they would’ve found her by now. Hell, Agent Hill was the one who pushed her senseless into being the agent she was today. 

The poor workaholic agent who was pushed to the brink of it all, making the choices to see the good in others and step in to put herself in danger for the sake of the people around her. 

For the sake of the mission. 

Pushing down all the hurt and blame for her own sake. Taking the hits, making the kills and watching the ones she cared for suffer. 

All Grant wanted to do was keep her safe, have her join him in the mist of SHIELD’s fall back in 2014 and live on the run. But she refused to stay with him.

Because her loyalty was too high and her trust in others were on the balancing act of being destroy right before her eyes.

And yet, here she sat in front of him, her own green eyes staring right into his brown ones.  

“Hi baby.” He said in a calm low tone. 

She held a tight calm smile as she responded, “Hi.

“I’mma cut to the chase. You do know why you’re here, right?”

“Cause you miss me, hon?”

Kara, who was standing a few steps behind Grant, crossed her arms and held back a scoff at her remark. She knew the two had history, which annoyed her completely.

“Miss you? That’s a bold assumption,” Kara shot back, forcing the humor even as her pulse raced slightly.

Grant leaned forward, the smile fading as he studied her. “You’re in a warehouse, tied to a chair. I don’t want to play games, Ames.”

Kara shifted, her posture rigid as she eyed Amelia. “You don’t have to protect her anymore, Grant. She’s not one of us…”

“Not one of us?” Amelia echoed, the bite in her voice sharper than she intended. “You think that just because you’re playing for a different side now, it makes you less of a traitor?”

Kara bristled, but Grant raised a hand, silencing the tension in the room.  “This isn’t about sides,” he said, his tone even but strained. “It’s about information. SHIELD’s been sitting on something big, and I need you to help me find it.”

Amelia’s mind raced at the thought. The thought of betraying her former team sent a chill through her. “And what if I refuse? What makes you think I will help you?”

He leaned closer, intensity radiating from him. “Then you’ll stay here. And trust me, we both know I always find another way to get what I need. But it won’t be pretty for you.”

“Is that a threat, baby?”

“Call it a promise. I said don’t ever want to hurt you, Ames, not again, but if it comes to it, I will.”

Amelia’s eyes fell of Kara and exhaled, “And her?”

Grant noticed her gaze and leaned backwards. His expression turned serious as he said, “Kara, is none of your concern.”

“Liar. What is it that I did that so wrong to her?”

Kara shifted and met her gaze, leaning forward with a slight glare. “You know what you did, you're responsible for my kidnapping, you and Wallace had my location rigid and led me to Whitehall. When I did escape, Marlene and the others were late to get me back to base. I was tortured and enslaved for what felt like ages!”

Amelia’s eyes darted as she shifted, trying to stand up from her chair. She snarled, “The location was rigid to begin with! It wasn’t mine or Melissa’s fault. It was none of our faults!”

“Then apologize!”

“For a miscommunication? I did weeks ago!”

“It wasn’t enough.”

“..why have it be just me? Not strap Melissa or anyone else to a chair?”

That’s when Kara allowed a small smirk to appear on her face.

“Because. Melissa will just give me a snarky remark and scream, she’s not trained for the physical and mental discomfort across the body. But you are.” Kara explained to Amelia.

Amelia’s eyes darted back to Ward with a warning tone. “Grant.” She muttered. 

Grant stood from his seat and grabbed a device from the wall as he contained the explanation to a minimum, “We’re using you as an advantage here, Ames. If we want SHIELD to give us what they want as well and see a piece of them crumble, why not have one of their finest agents be the representation of it all?”

“Which means?” Amelia asked.

“We will keep you here.” Kara said, “In result, disorient the other agents such as Melissa, Marlene and your precious boyfriend, who I bet has no idea that your gone, into running around in rampage looking for you. The more pain you inflect, will give the others no choice but to give us the information needed.”

Amelia’s heart raced with a mix of fear and defiance as the words hung in the air. 

She scoffed as a small smile broke across her face. A shake chuckle escaped her hips for whatever reason. “You’re both just petty and delusional.” Amelia remarked. “Even if it I am not found by them, and I’m tortured. You realize that The Young Avengers will get concerned and try to find me, right?”

Grant crossed his arms and shook her head, as he strapped a wires and tightened the chair a bit more. Beforehand, he used anesthetic to remove any sensation of pain from Morse-Parker, however the sensation of the shockwaves and needles will be an unbearable pain, hitting her body all at once. 

Kara claimed to many beforehand, that was the pain she felt when she was harmed by Whitehall and when she regained control of her mind once again. 

When no one answered her remarked about The Young Avengers—Liane, Rick, Rochelle, Cole and the others—would grow panicked and try to find her, it was a clear as day response. They were too busy and selfish to care for others’s turmoil to save them. Kara and Grant convey that answer by just exchanging a glance at Amelia.

 Amelia's heart raced, a mixture of defiance and dread coursing through her veins. “You really think that will work? You’re underestimating them.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm, masking the worry gnawing at her.

Grant tightened the straps, his brow furrowed with frustration. “It’s not about underestimating them. It’s about making them desperate.”

Kara’s smirk faded as she stepped closer. “You think they care enough to risk everything for you? They’ve got their own battles to fight. You’re just a pawn in this game, Amelia.”

The weight of her words hit harder than any blow. Memories of laughter and camaraderie flashed through Amelia’s mind, but the shadows of doubt loomed larger. She shook her head, unwilling to let them see her falter. “You’re wrong. They won’t stop searching for me.”

Grant leaned back, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. “And if they do find you, what then? You think they’ll storm in here and rescue you? They don’t even know where you are.”

Kara stepped closer, her voice low and chilling. “They’ll waste time chasing ghosts, and by the time they figure it out, it’ll be too late.”

-----

A silence fell, heavy with unspoken truths. Amelia felt the chill in the air deepen, a reminder of her vulnerability as the hours went by. She felt herself growing hungry and weak by the second, as her eyes tried their hardest to not give into the weight and close themselves.

Deep into the night, the weight of Grant and Kara’s words hit pierced harder than any words. Every moment spent in the room, tied to the chair, her wrists trying to wiggle out of the restrains and the needles digging into her fingers send an engulfing pain across her body. The wires sending shockwaves through her body, were just as bad, she could practically taste the metal in the air, under her skin. 

Amelia was on the brink of giving into the pain and torment, that she was lost caused. She wasn’t going to be saved. That Kara and Grant were right. She was fool to think SHIELD and The Young Avengers—her friends—would care to save her. To release any evidence in hopes of having her come back to them.

That loyalty and trust that tied her to her team was slipping between her fingers.

She could’ve sworn she heard typing of a laptop and invoices being messaged between the two in another room, whenever Kara or Grant weren’t inside with her. She could hear Grant’s low murmur, the occasional sharp retort from Kara. The sound of certain agents from the messages, such as Marlene, her voice was faintly heard, so was Melissa. A flicker of Jeremy’s tone of voice and a few others that she didn’t quite recognize.

She wondered if Jeremy was negotiating a deal to the data on Whitehall or some kind of information in general. She wondered if Melissa trying to relocate the trace of the phone's pattern to her location, or maybe Marlene had just threaten to murder Ward.

Gods know what the others on the line must've been discussing.

However nothing from The Young Avengers.

As for their mouths moving? Conversation between the three echo though the warehouse, a mixture of screams, snarky remarks, and words that were sharper than a knife. Grant was one of the few people, who knew her better than anyone, he had a hand in training her and sense her downfall from a mile away. 

He knew that she knows that there was no one coming from her. And if they did. They would be too late, suffering the lost of someone who they assumed, they care for deeply. It was a twisted symphony of betrayal and desperation that echoed around her, each note driving the point home: she was alone.

Speaking of echos being said, at one point, when Amelia refused to once again to apologize to Kara, the closure to heal according to Grant, the brunette slapped Amelia across the face before she walked around the chair with a wicked smirk.

“If you want a nice view of my ass, sweetheart, that will be...” Amelia said in a slight witty tone, however her voice trailed off, hearing the sound of fabric and a wince of a blade, “..what is she doing?”

Grant didn’t let her swift her neck around to see the damage about to inflect upon her, instead snatching her chin under his fingers, forcing her to face him. For a fleeting moment, his gaze softened, a hint of regret flickering in his brown eyes.

“You don’t have to do this, Ames. We can work this out—” He said in a soft tone. 

“No.“ Amelia cut him off, her tone resolute, almost shaking in a hush tone, “Not like this..”

Before she can even repeat her words, a sharp passing of a knife slide across the back of her knees, her inner knees, as she let out a deep whine. She squeezed her eyes and gasped breathing heavily, her chest rising and fall, due to the action taking place. Her eyes water as she gulped, catching Grant’s gaze as she tried to wipe her face towards Kara.

Amelia’s breath came in ragged gasps, the pain radiating through her legs, refusing to show weakness, however it was clear. Grant’s grip on her chin tightened, his gaze searching hers for a flicker of compliance.

Kara stepped closer, a glint of amusement in her eyes. “You really think you’re in control here? You’re tied up, and your friends are miles away. This is your reality now.”

Amelia felt the weight of her words sink in, but she wouldn’t give in just yet. “And if I break? If I give they what you want? What happens then?”

She shrugged, a cruel smile curling her lips. “Maybe we’ll let you go. Maybe I won’t. It all depends on how entertaining you are.”

Before Amelia could respond, Grant’s expression shifted, a flicker of anger crossing his face. “Enough, Kara. This isn’t a game.”

Kara rolled her eyes, dismissing his concern. “Oh please, Grant. You’re not her keeper. She made her choices.”

Amelia’s eyes flickered between the pair. Despite Grant’s protectiveness over her, he was true as day that he cared for Kara just the same. He may claim to still love her, but his heart had made space for Kara. She scoffed, honestly, with how delusional they both were, they desires each other. 

“Choices?” Amelia scoffed, her voice steady despite the pain. “Um, I didn’t choose to be here, and you know it.”

Grant’s jaw tightened, a mix of frustration and a hint of guilt flashing across his face. “I didn’t want this for you, Amelia. I wanted to protect you.”

“By letting Kara and yourself torture me?” she shot back, her gaze unwavering. “You’re not protecting me, Grant. You lied to me once, you’ll do it again.”

He always said that one thing, she will understand everything he ever done, but she won’t. One look from Kara and Grant, and she realized she was more than a pawn, in this sick game. She’s the queen. The moment she decide to cooperate or her teammates come and find her, give them any information about Whitehall, the game changes. 

If she might even survive this.

----------------------

The hours went by, no help, no hope of salvation—none. 

It was hopeless.

She whimpered and winced, gasping for air as her fingers were being pierced by needles and her body was attached to the wires from earlier. She has been yelled at, bleeding and bruised.

She was purely shaking at this point. At least she was able to convince Ward to release her ankles for some breathing room. However, she was cold. From her feet to her toes, despite the clothing she was wearing, she was feeling the air bouncing against her skin.

As she wiggled her wrists against the restraints, searching for any weakness, the faint sound of footsteps approached. She held her breath, heart pounding, readying herself for whatever was to come.

The door creaked open, and Grant stepped inside. He paused, meeting her gaze with a mixture of concern and resolve. 

“You okay?” he asked, a hint of sincerity breaking through his hardened facade.

Her voice was slightly shaky under her breath, “Is that even a question?”

“Ames.”

“Not even close, and you know it.” 

“It’s gonna be a long night, I knew you’ll be tough. Coulson’s got an eye for talent.”

“So did you..”

He sighed, his harden facade slowly returned, as a tone that was undoubtedly unreadable appeared. He sat down across from her. Her breathing was deep and hitched, her glares softened ever so slightly, before slowly hardening once again.

“You and I are a lot alike, Ames.” He began, his voice simple yet smooth. “Emotions buried deep inside where nowhere will ever find it.”

She shook her head lightly, “Why’s that? Because you know me very well?” “Because the reason why you kill and fight and recruit others..it’s not because you feel it’s a duty.”

“It is..you caught onto that lesson very early on. Being pushed to the prime level, because it hides whatever uncertainty you have..”

“That’s what you think? Are you referring to me or yourself?”

Amelia paused remembering a conversation she had with Skye involving the context of Ward. He kills because of his emotional attachment and his desire to help, not just for his own desire but for a gain. 

But there was something more to that.

After a moment Amelia said under her breath as she admitted, “..it’s not because of nothing, or that it’s a duty to serve..it’s because you feel too much..i feel too much..”

Grant watched her eyes gearing up, the shift in her eyes, at the realization. The pain, the despair, the suffering, the repeated questions and conversation. It was like memories flashed—every laugh, every time she was snapped at, every snarl or glare, every moment of believing in trust and faith—it all came crashing down upon her.

The right push and she can be forced to see the truth, even if she denied it. Hell, the words that Amelia said hit Grant as hard a brick. It wasn’t false, he did care, sometimes way too much. But like he said, he buried it deep, to save himself the heartbreak and torment.

However he did say if Amelia didn’t corporate, or if SHIELD didn’t release information on Whitehall, he will do a certain job. One that she has seen done before..

“Baby, listen to me.” Grant said, bringing her back to the moment holding up needle in-between his fingers. “Kara needs closure. Your teammates are already suffering with no idea where you are, thanks to Kara. But you, just admit you betrayed her and we can end this.”

She scoffed, “You’re such a hypocrite, you know that? Betray her? Honey, may I remind you that you betrayed your whole entire team! You betrayed me.”

“For the—! For the hundredth time, I was loyal to Garrett, not HYDRA!”

“For the hundredth time, I don’t care!”

“Amelia!”

“What?! You always have that excuse or decide to blame Garrett for your choices!”

“We both know, if it was the other way another and you were in my shoes, you would understand! We talked about this!”

“I know! And for the that, I say, screw you!”

That’s when Grant leaned forward against the table, his body dangling among the chair he sat in. Their face were mere inches apart, they can feel the other’s hot breath against one another’s face. Every scare, bump and bruise, laced across their face.

The tension was heating off their bodies, their breathing was thick and hitched. 

“You don’t know me as well, as you think you do.” He growled under his breath, his back arched and his palms pressed against the table.

“Sure I do, baby.” She responded, growling in the same exact intensity.

However she held a light smirk, ripping off her restraints that she spent the last hours  loosing up, grunted as she both hands grabbed the back of his neck and slammed his face into the table.

She held out a breath, snatching the needle from his grasp and stabbing him with it. Grant broke free from her grasp just as quickly, as Amelia stumbled backwards. He launched at her as she jumped over the table and kicked him the chest. 

Before they two knew it, they were dancing around, blocking and trying to punch one another into corners. Spinning, turning and trying to slam the other into a wall. Grunts, pounding from footsteps against the ground, shouts and screaming were heard from within the warehouse, as they broke though the walls and into the hallways.

--------------------------

At one point, Amelia raised her height was going to cause her a real disadvantage, Grant was taller than her by a lot. So just as he was about to launch at her once again, she reached up to a poll, grasping a tight grip before swinging her legs forwards launching Grant to break though the window of the door. 

“I taught you well..” He muttered, a hint of pride in his voice, before grabbing her and swinging the brunette around as they head butted one another hitting against the tight narrow hallway.

Amelia head was slammed backwards, pounding firm near a wall, before her body slid downwards onto the floor as she grunted and let out a groaned. Grant towered over her just as Kara hurried in, holding her gun towards Amelia.

She was ready to shoot her, but didn’t, yet. She wanted to hear the apology, understand her pain. She exchanged a look with Ward.

“Anything you want to say to Kara?” Grant asked, letting out a deep breath.

Amelia’s eyes darted between the door of them, her vision was blurry as she said, “..yeah.”

“She’s waiting.”

“I’m not sorry anymore..” Amelia muttered under her breath. 

Kara exhaled, lowering the gun, “This isn’t right..I’m not feeling, she’s not sorry..”

Grant took the gun from her stuffing it into his back pocket and placed a hand on her shoulder, “It’s alright, baby, I know what to do..”

Her gaze flickered between the pair, one look from Grant and Amelia knew what was coming for her, he going to pull the trigger. The hours were running up. 

He’ll do the one thing she seen him do, only once, years ago. 

It will not just make her suffer but the ones who claimed to love her...

~~~~~~

~~~~~~~

AHH! It was a lot I know but let me know what you think! Thoughts, comments and what you love about it all. Pls like, comment and share for more.

Tags: @gaminggirlsstuff @gcthvile @missstrawbs2001 @djs8891 @starkleila @aidanxsophxoxo @mandylove1000 @yetanotherwells @rickb-chaos @topgun-imagines s @hardballoonlove @buckysteveloki-me @sherloquestea @ximehs @savemewattpad @theonlyblackcanary y @terry-perry @triptuckers @daughter-of-melpomene @superspookyjanelle @infinetlyforgotten and etc

[olive-main]

Two Heads of Hydra

Pairing: Bucky Barns x Fem!Reader

Summary: A secret promise they made to each other, vowing to escape HYDRA and leave their lives as weapons behind. Even when they’d wipe Bucky’s mind, Y/N stuck by him, making that promise again and again. Their shared dream of freedom and a life beyond HYDRA had become their driving force.

Wc: 530

My first fanfic….? More of a background for a potential series…? Its simply experimental to get my writing brain working. I have many ideas, but while I’m working on this my requests are open! Don’t be shy and ask away ;)

When Y/N turned 20, Hydra put her on a mission with the infamous Winter Soldier, Bucky Barnes. The two spent their days training together, fighting side by side, and rarely leaving each other's sight. The efficiency with which they operated together swayed Hydra’s decision to keep them as a team.

As their missions continued, Y/N couldn't help but notice the torment that Hydra put Bucky through. Usually it wouldn’t phase her, but with Bucky it was different. It caused an anger to build within her, a protectiveness she couldn't explain but couldn't deny. Bucky had felt the same way about Y/N. Whenever she was hit or “disciplined” by Hydra's members, he would rush to her protection, holding back from killing anyone who laid a hand on Y/N, and she’d reciprocate without hesitation. The punishments for either of their acts or defiance were brutal – brainwiping and torture – so they both decided that it was better to suffer in silence for each other's sake.

In Y/N’s determination to save Bucky from his tormented existence, she found ways to prevent Hydra from wiping his memory. Y/N claimed that he held information for future missions, and surprisingly, it worked, at least for a while. Bucky would always question why she was helping him, he couldn’t believe someone would show him any kindness. Y/N’s response had always been the same, "We only have each other in this hell hole, and I need you conscious for when we escape."

Feelings had begun to grow on both sides. How could they not, but they both knew that acknowledging them was a luxury neither of them could afford. It was the unspoken kindness and care that was shared that kept them going in their prisons, providing a glimmer of hope amidst the despair.

However, when the time came for their escape, Hydra had already grown suspicious of their relationship. They searched Bucky's room and found his journal, a precious collection of his thoughts and memories. Despite the desperation Y/N felt trying to make sure they both got out, it had been too late. Bucky told her to leave, to get out of Hydra and save herself. It was a gut-wrenching decision, and she had no choice but to follow his orders. Y/N knew if she didn’t get out, they’d both be stuck.

Against her heart screaming at her to stay with Bucky, she made her esparce. Determined to keep the promise she had made to Bucky before they parted – to get him out. Before leaving Y/N managed to steal his journal, the only link to his past and his true self. She knew it would be essential for him when the time came to set him free.

Y/N had stepped foot in the outside world, finally free. But her mind was consumed with thoughts of Bucky and the day they’d reunite. She was dedicated to finding a way to rescue him from Hydra’s grasp, and the stolen journal became a symbol of Y/N’s unwavering commitment to the man who had become her partner, her protector, and her silent source of strength in the darkest of times.

Thank you beauties ~Olive ♡

[luminouslywriting]

Chapter 2: Toccoa, Georgia (The Prophecy)—A Band of Brothers Fanfic

A/N: I am so so so so SO sorry this is out late. This past week was super hectic! I hope that you really enjoy the chapter. I did my best to make it my own and different from other beginnings of BoB that I've seen, so you'll have to let me know what you think! Also, as a side note—I did, in fact, live in Toccoa area for 13 weeks a couple years back, so I actually do love that place!

Winnie could say that she had never been to Toccoa Georgia for any reason in her short lifetime and would probably have no desire to ever return. Though there wasn’t any snow on the ground here, it was just as gloomy as the rest of Georgia was in the winter months.  Everywhere she looked, there were men in uniforms and people bustling towards the wartime factories that had popped up.  

Her arrival at Camp Toccoa was a rather quiet affair, and so there she sat in a wooden chair inside a small waiting area.  Occasionally, Winnie glanced over at the precipitation building on the windows.  When she was a kid, she had long periods of waiting like this one—where her father was in jail or at some bar and she would just wait for him to come back home. 

It would usually rain—and considering how the weather in Georgia changed as quickly as a summer breeze, Winnie had taken to counting droplets of water as a way to keep her focus on something that she could control. 

The simple fact of the matter was that Winnie had precious little control over a lot of the circumstances in her life.  But the things that she did have control over, she kept those things close to her chest; clung to them like they were her most precious possessions and no one would ever come close enough to take that freedom of control away from her again. 

She clicked her heeled shoes together exactly once, eyes straying to the scuff marks on her simple church shoes.  She wondered how her brothers were all faring in their training at the moment.  If they were all coping with the reality of what war would be—if they were prepared to go and be on their own. 

Richie wasn’t the one she was worried about.  He was two years younger than her and was always rather serious.  He worked harder than anyone else that she knew and wasn’t one to get distracted by a pretty face or lofty promises.  Any day now, he’d be shipping out to go to the Pacific as a Marine and it made her truthfully want to follow him all the way down there and have his back with a gun herself.  

They were Allens.  And they trusted themselves and one another.  No one else outside of their circle of siblings had proven to be someone that they would trust their lives with.  But Winnie knew that they would never allow a doctor—and a female one, at that—to go down to the Pacific and be a part of the carnage and horrors there. 

Robbie was in the same boat, proverbially speaking of course, as Richie.  Set to go to the Pacific in a few weeks.  He was always so quiet and watchful.  Winnie hoped that it would serve him well to be on his guard and pick up on the things that the other soldiers wouldn't notice.  They had yelled a lot back and forth before he had enlisted—she had told him to finish his degree and go into the JAG-Corp.  He had told her to go to hell—which he had tearfully apologized for when she dropped him off at the train station.  

Winnie stretched out her fingers over her lap, letting out a breath.  It had been nearly thirty minutes of waiting to be allowed to see the Colonel—and this was just for him to review her application to join the Paratroopers as a Doctor and training officer for his medics.  She wished that the level of urgency the war truly had would transfer over to her wait time. 

Because if she needed to haul everything back to Buford, Winnie would almost certainly rather pick up and move to the Carolinas and try to sign up for a different branch of the military that would, in fact, utilize her. She hated being idle—hated being alone, even more than that.  

The younger three boys were the ones that needed supervision—needed all the prayers of the good congregation of Buford’s Christian Non-Denominational Church.  Nathan was the first problem in Winnie’s pleas to God.  That boy had been raised wolf-wild by herself and Richie and Robbie.  They hadn’t been much, but they had had each other.  He was always picking a fight with an older boy—and she could only hope that this whole army experience was going to straighten him out.   

Then there was Joshua, also set to end up in the Pacific as a medic.  That had granted her a degree of peace, knowing that his evenings helping her study for school were going to come in handy where he was going.  It might, in fact, just be the thing that ends up saving his life.  

But Charlie? Charlie was, in every sense of the word, hers.  She had raised him from the time of his infancy and so to Winnie Allen, Charlie was her child.  Currently, he was in Texas and Winnie had never been more grateful for the fact that the Air Force programs were long.  She would take those 9 months like a sacred gift from God that he wouldn’t be anywhere near the fighting—at least for a short while. 

And then there was her.  Just her—with no idea where she’d end up, with no clue what her side of the war would entail.  Which of course, would be typical of her life thus far. 

Just then, the door opened and a man stepped inside, clipboard in hand.  “Dr. Allen?” 

“That’d be me,” Winnie said, rising to her feet. 

The man piqued an eyebrow, but said nothing about the fact that she was a woman.  He just let out a weary sigh and gestured towards the door with his head.  “If you’d follow me, ma’am.” 

Of course, a moment ago she was Doctor, and now she was ma’am.  God, she loathed the South.  

Winnie obliged, following after the man with quick steps.  As they crossed out of the building and onto a dirt path, Winnie caught sight of some of the trainees—some of them in the field and doing jumping jacks in the field, some of them running towards a trail through the trees.  There weren’t too many of them at the moment, but that didn’t deter Winnie in any way. 

“Are these the officers that are in training?” Winnie questioned, speeding up her stride to match the man in front of her. 

He let out an annoyed breath.  “You catch on quick.  Sink will like that.  Though I can’t account for how he’ll feel about a woman applying to train our medics.” 

“I’m a trauma surgeon and doctor.  I think my credentials speak for themselves,” Winnie retorted dryly. 

No response from the officer this time, just a huff of air as he came to a stop in front of one of the buildings on the camp.  “Wait here, please.” 

Winnie just crossed her arms and waited patiently, inhaling the cool air.  Not even thirty seconds later, the man had returned and gestured for her to enter the room.  Winnie was grateful for the slight reprieve from the cold air as she entered the room.  And there, sitting in a chair and smoking a cigar, was Colonel Sink. 

“If you’d please take a seat, Doctor Allen,” he gestured at the seat across from his desk with his cigar.  Usually quick to follow orders, Winnie slid into the seat, looking at Colonel Sink expectantly.  It was another moment of silence before Colonel Sink set down his cigar and fully looked at her.  “I’ll be honest, we don’t see too many female doctors come through the military.” 

“I expect you’d see more nurses, sir.” 

“Damn right, we do,” Sink stated.  “This whole war—unpleasant business, not really meant for women.” 

“If I can speak freely, sir?” 

“I’d be appreciative of the honesty, if you did.” 

“You’re right, it’s unpleasant.  But those women are still going to bury husbands, sons, brothers, and fathers.  It affects them just as much as it does the men.” 

“I can’t say I disagree.  Your point?” 

“I’m not a married woman.  I’m a trauma surgeon and head of the trauma department in Buford General.  I was the top of my class and as it so happens, I don’t have any children or brothers—they’re all off in training to fight in this war.  I don’t particularly like sitting on my ass or fancy myself a factory worker.  But I can help you train damn good medics, sir.” 

Sink stared at her for a long time.  His gaze reminded her a lot of her mentor’s, from back in college.  He was always trying to figure out her angles too.  Trying to figure out if she was as good as she claimed to be. 

“I’ll be honest with you, Allen.  We’ve got hundreds—thousands—of men coming in the next few months to train to be paratroopers.  Now I want them to be the best of the best.  And if I want them to survive more than five minutes over there, then that means I also need the best of the best doctors to train my medics.  So I’ll concede to your point.  Your application was good—I’m a self-made man myself and I respect that work.” 

“Sir?” 

“But I’ll also be honest with you.  This isn’t going to be pretty.  It’s going to be bloody and long and tiring.  This isn’t the type of place where you can just escape from whatever life you don’t want to live.  At some point, you might be elbows deep in some man’s guts and I need someone unflinching.” 

“October 27th.” 

“Pardon?” 

Winnie shifted in her seat, leaning forward.  “October 27th, a man and his two daughters are brought into Buford General.  Automobile accident.  The man flung his arm in front of his daughter sitting in the passenger seat.  His arm was hanging by a few strands of muscles and he was going to bleed out.  Now the daughter in the passenger seat got impaled by a fence post—it went straight through her stomach.  The daughter in the back was flung through the car and landed 15 feet ahead.” 

“That’s both gruesome and tragic.   Your point being?” 

“I was the surgeon on call that night.  I triaged.  I assessed.  I delegated.  The father lost his arm but he kept his life.  The daughter who flew through the car wasn’t going to make it.  She was 11.  We were short-handed and I had to tell the nurse assisting me that the little girl wasn’t going to make it and that she needed to focus on the other one.  So she did.  We lost the one—but she was mostly gone by the time she had arrived,” Winnie stated.  “My point here is that I can give your men skills that they won’t get anywhere otherwise.  Real life experience teaching practical application of the skills.  Triaging, assessing, not hesitating in doing the work and saving lives.” 

Sink leaned forward in his seat.  “You’d be hard on them?” 

“I’d be brutal. Because that is exactly what they are going to face out there.” 

“You be the hard-ass doctor that trains my medics, then.  But if you’re gonna be here, then you’re gonna train like my men train.” 

“I’m not a fragile southern belle like Melanie Hamilton, sir.” 

“No, I imagine you’re not.  I’ll give you two nurses to assist with actual injuries on base—and based on performance, you and them might just end up traveling with us wherever we end up.” 

“Sir?” 

“What?” 

“Thank you for letting me advocate my case.  I won’t let you down.” 

“You sure as hell better not.  Or lots of good men are going to die and that’s going to be on your shoulders.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Within the first hour of being there, Winnie had selected her nurses from the pile of applications.  It hadn’t been that hard of a choice to begin with—some were just practical eliminations, and the rest were a careful read-through of letters they had sent in along with the application.  

Reba Garrett and Eileen Gray were the two chosen candidates that she had landed on.  Reba was from New England and had been working as a nurse for well over five years now, placing her as one of the older and more experienced women applying for the position.  But it wasn’t her experience that attracted Winnie’s attention—it was the letter, and the way in which she described wanting to do some real good in the war and that started with saving lives rather than ending them. 

That sounded exactly like the type of person that Winnie wanted to have on her side.  

Eileen, on the other hand, was from Savannah, Georgia.  While her experience time of only two years wasn’t quite as well-established as Reba’s was, it was the picture that she had included of her brother that caught Winnie’s attention.  Eileen’s brother had been stationed in Pearl and he had been one of the many men to be immortalized under the ocean there. 

That gave her motivation, it gave her righteous anger—and in Winnie’s eyes, it was exactly the sort of thing that God would do—place Eileen in her path to ensure that justice was seen. 

So Winnie penned her first letters to the two women that would soon be joining her here in Toccoa.  And then she took those resumes straight to Colonel Sink—who wholeheartedly approved of the decision, though it was made in haste.  Just another reason for him to see her as a capable doctor—as someone he could trust. 

And in two weeks time, Eileen Gray and Reba Garrett would be joining her at Camp Toccoa.  In the meantime though, Winnie’s own training was set to begin.  And she’d be damned if she let herself be torn down by any man—her superior officer or not.  She was determined to earn her place amongst the men here—and earn their respect.  Consequences be damned.