#Steve x Lilah

[rustedhearts]

severed lamb: part iii: the sinners (pastor!steve x fem!reader)

summary: you visit the church on a hot summer night to thank pastor steve for his recent gift. you should've known: only the sinners come out at night.

uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.

♰ severed lamb masterlist ♰ ♰ main masterlist ♰

tags: religious trauma/imagery, age gap (steve is 35, reader is 19), manipulation, abuse of power, really just insane sexual tension and steve being icky.

♰ Wyndgate, Georgia July 1981 ♰

You hid the shoes from Mama.

Stuffed beneath old boxes in your closet, buried beneath the mess of your youth left over—the pale pink silk came out only when you were alone in the dark. You crept across the prickly carpet with bare knees, the chitter of grasshoppers in the field, and cicadas in the trees filling the lull of night. Your bedroom bathed in inky darkness, beams of moonlight beaconing across the wood panels of your walls—you slithered off your bed, freeing yourself from the stiff and sticky sheets, and inched open your closet.

There, you held them in your hands. You studied their featherlight weight, their soft satin feel, the solid firmness of their toe. You slipped them onto your feet, warm from a half sleep, and wrapped the ribbons around your calves.

And then you prayed.

Elbows pressed into the bed, hands clasped together, knelt against the scratchy rug. Eyes pinched shut, cross necklace delicately resting against your chest, pointe shoes barely tapped together behind you.

But as you murmured to God, you thought only of Steve.

His wide, warm hands with the tough working calluses. Those round, earthy eyes with specks of mud, braced with long lashes that tickled his thick brows. The shape of his lips, bowed and broad, a shade of pink between rose and scarlet. How he smelled—God, that smell. Smoked with musk, sweet with heat, a hint of something woodsy. He didn't smell like the other boys here—like Camels and beer and truck exhaust. He smelled like heaven.

You prayed for God to absolve you of this sin. Because you knew, despite years of your mother's coaxing to find yourself "a hard-working fella with firm hands," that God would punish you for your mindful wanderings. Lust was a sin, after all.

When you fell asleep, God punished you with dreams of Steve. Dreams that had you writhing and squirming beneath the sheets, mewling into the feathers of your pillows. When you awoke, a torturous ache pulsed between your legs.

First, you must suffer for your sins.

♰ ♰

But still, you were a good Southern girl—or at least you tried to be. Georgians valued hospitality above all, and you'd be doing your daddy wrong if you didn't thank Pastor Steve properly.

Saturday afternoon, you scaled the cherry tree in your backyard. Mama was at her friend Patty's, drinking Bloody Marys on her porch and gabbing about town murmurings. You had to be quick while she was away. You made quick work of plucking the ripest, juiciest cherries and washing them in the sink. You mixed up all the fixings for the dough, kneading the floured, squishy material until it was firm. It chilled in the fridge while you cleaned the stove.

A few hours later, when the sun went down and Mama was on her way home, the cherry pie was perfectly golden, crispy, and bleeding tart cherry. You wrapped it in a plastic bag from the grocery store and freshened up. You'd be lying if you said Steve didn't linger in the back of your mind as you pulled on the thin cotton of your favorite sundress—pink and strappy. It matched the color of your new shoes, hidden once again in your closet.

You passed your mother on your way down the drive. Kicking up puffs of dirt behind you, cradling the warm pie in your hands. Mama staggered on the way up, flailing wildly to find her bearings in the open air. The sinking sun cast a creamsicle shadow across her dull eyes. A cackle left her when she spotted you, and you scuffled to a stop on your way down.

"Lilah! Lilah, my sweet girl, give your mama a kiss hello."

Her hands were clammy and warm on your cheeks, squishing them together, pulling you close, teetering you from side to side like rocking a baby. You cringed away from her, clutching the warm pie tight to your stomach. You'd never forgive yourself for giving Pastor Steve a squished pie.

"Mama," you huffed, attempting to yank your face from her hands. "Mama, I'm goin' somewhere."

Your mother skittered back, movements loose and liquid like she'd been flipped upside down and shaken free of inhibition. Her smile was crooked, eyes drooped, wrists limp where her hands dangled near her hips.

"Alright," she drawled, "Lord, you don't wanna spend no more time with your mama. Wha-dI ever do t' you?"

Watching her hike up the driveway toward the house was like watching a calf learn how to walk. You didn't have the energy to play mother and nudge her to her feet. You just watched, clinging to your plastic-wrapped pie dish, as she scuffed up dirt clouds and stumbled around. She went head-first into the house, and a loud clatter came through the open windows seconds after the door closed.

Sighing, you turned around and drifted down the drive, praying the dirt wouldn’t ruin your white sneakers—praying Mama wouldn’t snoop and find your shoes.

But most of all: praying Pastor Steve would be glad to see you.

♰ ♰

Wyndgate went dark by the time you reached the church. A few cars lingered in the lot, stragglers wandering from their after-work prayers in the back pews. The drunken sinners and the half-beat housewives staggered and skittered out like roaches. You tried not to be so judgmental (that was God’s job, after all) but Mama raised you a little brown on the nose.

Straightening your spine and pulling back your shoulders, you fixed your cross, tugged at the hem of your dress, and walked your way through the church doors. The floorboards squeaked beneath your shoes on your way down the aisle, cherry pie still ebbing with warmth in your arms. Pastor Steve was in one of the first pews, collecting pamphlets from the floor and wiping dirt from the shiny soak seats. The plastic-wrapped pie crinkled when you shifted your hands around the porcelain dish.

“Pastor Steve—“

“Oh!”

You jumped, shuffling back against the aisle carpet when Pastor Steve whirled around with a shout. He smacked a hand over his heart when he saw you standing there, pink paper in hand. Chest heaving with heavy breaths, the man’s cheeks grew a colorful shade close to the pamphlet he clutched, and a sheepish smile breezed over his face.

“Delilah,” he sighed, clutching the pew with his other hand. “It’s just you.”

You gnawed on your lip, toes clicking together on the carpet. “S-sorry for scarin’ you, Pastor.”

Steve waved his hand, straightening to a steady posture. He looked at the pamphlet, now crumpled, and placed it as neatly as possible in the pew shelf, tucked between the bible. It looked like an ad for choir singers.

“Not at all, Delilah. You here for a chat?”

Steve shuffled out of the pew, coming to stand with his hands on his hips before you. He smelled real good today. Like strong, sweet coffee, something nutty and buttery beneath it. His hair was freshly-washed: soft and bouncy, hints of caramel brown in the front coil. You wanted to run your fingers through it. The thought made you ache between the thighs. Please Lord, take these sinful thoughts from me.

“Actually, I wanted to thank you. I made a pie,” you admitted quietly, gazing down at the dessert collecting condensation on the plastic wrap.

Steve followed your eyes, delighted at the sight of it. He thought of those cherries in the field that day behind your house, and how graceful you looked scaling the tree. Like some sort of woodland nymph, foraging for berries.

“Thank me for what, sweetheart?”

Sweetheart. Your chest blossomed and boomed, tendrils of muscles aching at the sound of that word slipping from his mouth. Sweetheart. Were you his sweetheart? Your cheeks felt sore with heat at the thought. Something deep in your gut pulsed and cried.

“We-well fo-for…for the shoes, Pastor Steve,” you whispered, glancing at the other pews. Few sinners remained on their knees.

Steve, still looming above you with his hands on his hips, followed your drifting eyes. The corner of his lip held the whisper of a smile. “Now I’m certain I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, Delilah.”

A bubble of embarrassment boiled hot behind your navel. You shifted your weight, fidgeting with the loose end of the plastic wrap on the underside of the dish. You dropped your eyes to the floor, the tops of Steve's brown loafers particularly interesting. They were perfectly clean, not even a trace of mud. With the dry heat Georgia's been suffering through, you weren't surprised.

Had you got it wrong? Was it not Steve that gave you the new pointe shoes? Who else could it have been?

"But I think," Pastor Steve spoke up, voice a little high with an amused coo. "I might know who's responsible."

You lifted your gaze just a smidge. "You do?"

"Mhm. C'mon."

Steve headed toward the front of the church, the old door to the office upstairs coming into view. You glanced around once more, finding even fewer people remaining. The hunched woman in the back of the room had her eyes shut so tight, you were certain she was worlds away. No one would notice. Your eyes shifted toward the wooden cross behind the podium at the head of the room—the perfectly-carved depiction of Jesus dripping tears and bleeding from his palms and feet. The thorns striking his head.

He would notice.

"Delilah," Steve called softly, standing in the doorway now. He held it open for you, head tipping when you looked his way. "You comin'?"

Steve had a way of looking at you that made you feel like the prettiest girl in the room, even if you weren't. He had a way of looking at you that made you feel like something rare and precious, something worth taking the time to admire. He had a way of pulling you in.

On your way to Steve, you looked toward the cross again.

You could've sworn the tears of Jesus were gone.

♰ ♰

In the attic, the heat was stifling. Even with the absence of the sun, the heat felt palpable. So stiff and thick you could've chewed on it like rubber. You took a deep breath in as Steve closed the door behind you and turned on a lamp. The white wooden walls collected a faint amber glow, collecting in a halo on the arched ceiling. Steve's shoes thunked across the carpet. You could almost smell the dust.

Turning around toward Steve, you prepared yourself for an earnest apology. "Pastor Steve, I just wanted to—"

"You're welcome."

You paused, lips parted in silence. Steve slipped his hands into the front pocket of his trousers—tight at the hips, loose at the calves, the color of midnight. He wasn't wearing a robe, and his shoulders seemed even more broad stretched beneath that crisp white button down.

"Beg your pardon?"

His shoes thunked again as he passed you, steps slow and meticulous. Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. You held your breath in your throat when his elbow brushed your arm. You felt him stop, the size of his heat pushing against your back. You turned to peer at him in the low light. He pulled the rickety wooden chair of his desk back, but didn't sit.

"I said: you're welcome, Delilah."

You closed your mouth, blinking your brows into a frown. "B-but you said—"

Steve eased down into his seat with a sigh, sliding his palms against the arms of the chair until they rested forearms-down. Feet flat on the floor, spine straight against the back, thighs a few inches apart—he looked like a King in his throne.

"I know what I said," he murmured, voice no longer tipping toward a melodic coo. "I just thought we'd speak alone. You know, in private."

You swallowed. "O-okay."

Steve tipped his head, turning his face aside until you could only see his profile. That handsome, princely profile. The heat of the attic gathered on the back of your neck beneath your hair. A pool of sweat collected at the small of your spine beneath your dress. The fabric thinned with the wetness. Steve's shirt grew darker beneath his arms, a glossy shine gleaming over his forehead. Something about that made your mouth water. You imagined what the smell of his heat might be like up close. You wondered how the skin of his throat tasted, coated in sweat.

The silence that festered felt as tangible as the heat. The floor groaned when you teetered.

"Did you like them?"

You nodded meekly, suddenly too small for words. Steve hummed, letting his head loll back in place.

"Hmm. Good."

You swallowed again, throat growing dry in the absence of words and water. The pie in your hands felt a little cooler. You extended it, gripping tight.

"Well, I...I made this for you. S-Since you liked them cherries s' much."

Steve tipped his chin up, but he didn't look at the pie. He kept his eyes steady on you—you: with your meek little eyes that couldn't stand to look at him too long, and your pretty dress with the fabric so thin he could see the shape of your thighs touching under the hem. You: with your shaking fingers and your wobbly knees, and the socks with the frilly lace on the ruffled hems like a girl at communion. You: with your angelic cheeks and your goddess face, and the cross between your breasts that glinted at Steve.

He wanted to devour you. He couldn't wait any longer for a taste of that sinless skin.

"Bring it to me."

You kicked your eyes up, heat lapping at your spine at the sound of his voice commanding you. Tone rigid with demand, crawling up from deep in his throat and appearing with a rasp. But still, no matter what: so gentle. Just a little bit of a salt on the top of a chocolate chip cookie.

You took small steps forward, and Steve was patient. You stopped when your toes touched his, a small stuttered breath echoing from your nose. The pie dish teetered on its way to him. His palms ghosted yours when he collected it. The weight of his touch featherlight, the warmth of his skin scorching. It left the surface of your hands feeling like you'd touched the sun.

Steve placed the dish on the desk. The porcelain clatter sliced through the quiet. With two fingers, he gently peeled the plastic wrap apart. The sweet, tart smell of cherry bled through the heat of the attic. Steve brushed his finger over the firmness of the crust, humming again. You swept your hands behind your back, fingers woven together. You itched for his satisfaction and his unadulterated praise.

His fingers broke the surface, submerging into the gooey warmth inside. He curled them, and they reappeared coated in sticky scarlet jam. A whole cherry chunk sat between his thumb and index, golden crust gathered in his palm. Steve brought it to his mouth, lips closing around the bite ripped from the center of the pie. It was animalistic, it was crude: the way he sucked it down and licked his fingers clean. Each one disappeared into his mouth and returned with a pop, slurped clean of red.

You inhaled, breath catching in stuttered successions. Steve groaned, deep and guttural. The muscles in your stomach squeezed. The apex of your thighs burned hot.

"Glorious, Delilah," he murmured. When his tongue swept his lip, it appeared bright pink.

"Would you like some?" he asked, easing back into the chair again.

The tops of your ears scorched. "O-Oh, um—"

"Come on," he cooed, teeth scraping his reddened lip. "Indulge, Delilah."

Pastor Steve's words from the other day echoed in your mind. Sometimes we have to indulge. Keeps us good.

Weren't you good?

You followed Steve's hand as it approached the pie again. His fingers sank in with an obscene squelch. You squeezed again when he gathered another bite in his hand, this one destined for your mouth.

Steve chuckled, a bounding sound. "I can't reach your mouth up there, sweetheart."

Your attention snapped to his face, the smile gracing it wolfish and all teeth. Your knees gave in easier than you would've liked. You melted like butter in the lamplight, sinking to half your height against the carpet. It scratched your knees and itched your calves, but Steve's thighs pressing against your arms swept any other thought away.

The light was different down here. Darker, shadowed. Pastor Steve's eyes had never seemed so amazed.

His fingers approached and your jaw unhinged, giving way to a wet, writhing tongue and two rows of pearly teeth. Steve's other hand touched your chin, bracing you steady with gentle fingers. Your knees clenched, suctioning together with sticky skin.

You caught his eye as the first biting tang of cherry touched your tongue. They appeared wide and swampy, swimming with colors muddled by the darkness at this height. The air he exhaled smelled fruity. The tartness to the pie clung to your cheeks and made them ache. You closed your lips around his fingers, and your eyes fluttered shut.

The taste of him. Oh God, the taste of him. You licked and lapped, swirling your tongue around to clear away all the pie in search of just him. You gobbled it down, eager for just skin. His hand tightened around your chin, lengthening to cup your jaw. A sting gathered in your jaw from the weight of his hand on your tongue. But you were lost in him.

Steve sat back, watching you inch forward. You followed his lead without thought. You latched around his fingers and sucked them all clean, careful even to clear the crevices. He came away spit soaked and a little sore. He rested his wet hand on his knee, bits of jam and crust gathered on the pleats of his trousers. He gave your jaw a little squeeze.

You heaved for air, chest pumping in time to each desperate breath. The glimmer of your cross met the lamplight with every intake. Steve brought that wet hand, coated in your spit, to the channel of your throat. The pads of his fingers left a trail of cool dampness down the length of your neck and across your collarbones. Breezing down, outlining the shape of you.

Until he found the cross between your breasts. He traced the shape of that next, humming as he made the sign with his index. Leaning forward, elbows on his knees, Steve placed his mouth just above your nose until you looked at him through your lashes.

"I hope you know," he whispered, words warm and damp. "I prayed for this."

When his mouth met yours, all you tasted was cherry. Tart, muddled, violent cherry. It burst in your mouth, tongue ejecting to deliver the taste. His teeth scraped, nipped; his hands took your face. The chair strained with a creak beneath his weight. The floor groaned under your knees. Your palm thumped to the floor for balance. A pathetic mewl echoed into the cavern of his mouth: full of nothing but you and pie.

Steve pulled away with a smack, lips detaching and expelling air. His thumbs rubbed your cheeks, tenderizing them with his callused skin. He huffed once, wiped at the sweat on his brow with his sleeve, and sat back again. He swept a finger across your lip lazily, heavy and soaked in spit.

“Oh yeah,” Steve sighed. “I prayed real hard for that.”

[lostinaseaoffictionalbliss]

Every Rose Has Its Thorn Part 2

A/N: My masterlist is in my bio. If you like this go check it out. I write for a multitude of fandoms

Summary: Fury sent Lilah to recruit Steve for the team. He agrees, but they’re left with some questions after their meeting

Pairing: Steve x reader

Warnings: some language, let the secret pinning begin

Word Count: 1073

Blue eyes clashed with hazel as Steve turned toward me. Those blue eyes were more beautiful than anything I had ever seen in my life. Pictures had not done them justice. It wasn’t even the muscles, which were very nice, that drew me in. It was those deep blue orbs. I had thought him cute and adorable when I had seen pictures of him before the serum. Now that I was face to well chest really-he towered over me- with him I realized he was more than cute and adorable. He was handsome and gorgeous.

It was like when God decided to make Steven Grant Rogers he threw both cute and sexy into the mixing pot and I certainly wasn’t complaining. What single...hell, married straight or bisexual woman would complain? If they did, I'd have to have their head examined.

I smiled softly as he approached me. “Again I am sorry to disturb you. I’m sure you have a lot to work through and the last thing you need is someone you don’t know coming in here and asking you things.”

Steve smiled and used a towel to wipe the sweat from his neck and face. “Well at least it’s you and not Fury. He would be a lot more cryptic or demanding. So what is it you want to ask? Want me back out in the world?” He sipped some water.

I took a seat and slid a file toward him. “Unfortunately I’m asking you to help save it. The Tesseract was stolen by someone named Loki. The brother of Thor, prince of Asgard, god of thunder. Now personally I think the stupid cube should have been left in the depths of the ocean. It’s trouble and way more power than a human has a right to go messing around with. But hey I’m a grunt and I don’t make the decisions around here.” I wished I did, but I didn’t.

He took the file and opened it. He flipped through it casually, barely looking at the information. “I stopped one mad man bent on ruling the world with this thing. I suppose I should help stop another.” He tapped his fingers on the table.

I could feel his eyes on me as he looked me over. It wasn’t in some creepy way, more of a trying to figure me out and what place I fit in with all of this. “Ask what’s on your mind Captain. I don’t mind?” I gave a soft smile to let him know I was an open book.

“Why you? Why did Fury send you and not come himself?”

“Honestly I have no idea. He said it was because we grew up in the same city and I hate bullies, but that seemed cryptic and only touched the surface of the truth.”

He shook his head. “Why am I not surprised?” He took another drink of water. “Clearly there’s something about you that he thought would help you convince me.”

“Captain-”

“Steve. Call me Steve.”

“Alright, Steve.” I like the sound of that much more. “The truth is I think you’d be a big help. You know more about the cube than we do. You fought the man who found it and used it to create weapons. However I also think we’re asking too much of you. You just came out of the ice. All you’ve lost is still fresh in your mind. It wasn’t seventy years for you. It’s been a few weeks.” I sighed. “You should be left alone to process and work through it in your own time. And not by busting punching bags either. But that’s not my call. Fury gave me an order and I’m here to ask for you help.”

He raised a brow and leaned back in his seat. “Oh yeah? You don’t want me helping?” His curiosity was peeked.

I laughed softly. “I didn’t say that. I very much want you to help, but not at the expense of your mental health. But the truth is the other agents aren’t qualified or even capable of taking down a man like Loki. He’s strong, smart, and has one up on us. Now I’m not exactly normal. That much I know you gathered from my file, but I’m one person. I’m not a match for him on my own. With your help though, I believe we can catch him. And with Stark’s...God help us...assistance we can find the Tesseract. That’s also why Bruce is being called in. He knows Gamma like no one else.”

Steve hummed and looked down at the file. It was like he was staring a hole into it. If he wasn’t careful the damn thing would catch on fire from the heat of his intense gaze. “I’ll help. It’s the right thing to do. I wanted to save the world from Hydra, Red Skull, that cube. I went into the ice to save New York and the world. It looks like my fight isn’t quite over yet.”

I reached out to touch his hand in a comforting manner, but pulled back at the last second. We didn’t really know each other and I was afraid to get to comfortable with him. “I’m glad to be fighting along side you. And since I’m calling you Steve, you can call me Lilah.”

“Lilah Shaw...it’s nice to meet you.” His large hand engulfed mine and felt warm. Much warmer than a normal person would. My hand started to glow a soft green and I jerked it back.

“It’s nice to meet you too Steve Rogers.” I smiled and fiddled with my hands. What was that? My powers hadn’t acted up in years. Not since I first gained control of them and now one touch from Steve and they’re acting up. What the hell was Fury not telling me? I knew without a shadow of a doubt that this was most likely the reason he wanted me to meet Steve, but why I didn’t know.

He frowned a bit. “What’s wrong? Why was your hand doing that?”

I sighed heavily and lifted my gaze. “I’m not sure really. They’ve never done that before. I’ve had control for years. I’m sorry. I should go. You need to pack and get ready for the mission. I’ll see you tomorrow.” I gave him one last smile and darted out of there like the devil himself was on my heels.

                                                 * * * * 

Likes don’t spread my work! Please reblog and leave a comment if you enjoyed this! I love hearing from you guys and knowing what you think and hope to see!

[xvnqsb]

of stardust and space. masterlist. [ON HIATUS]

of stadust and space. a steve rogers and bucky barnes and female!oc fanfiction.

IN WHICH emptiness and murder was all she knew, pulling the trigger and wiping the crimson from her skin. until justice and revenge flooded her veins, fingers no longer touched triggers and others caressed her skin.

WARNINGS: descriptions of torture, violence, death, anxiety, ptsd, suicidal thoughts and actions, mentions and descriptions of human trafficking, sex trafficking, child trafficking, cursing, smut, polygamy, male x male scenes, male x female scenes.

chapters below the cut.

______ act one . _______

soulmates pt. 1

the fight, the escape, the punishment

praises and promises

rescue missions and raging fire

choice

telepaths and the tesseract

who knew our faces had so much blood?

PLAYLISTS. (links dont work atm. playlists are privated)

of stardust and space. ☇ all songs from all playlists put in one.

lilah and bucky. ✧ my raging fire.

lilah and steve. ☁︎ love is so foreign, yet when you speak, it's all i hear.

lilah, steve, and bucky. ☾ the world would come crashing down, the sky could be falling, and all i would be praying for is you.

lilah and jonah. ☈ you were always hydra's favorite.

lilah stark. ☪︎ what god would make such a colossal mistake?

steve rogers ♡ when the earth trembles, all i see is you.

bucky barnes ❦ i'm not worth it, i'm nothing more than a monster.

stevebucky ☙ you don't get it! when i'm on that battlefield, all i think about is you!

[glitterylittlesapphire]

All Love Triangles Should End In Polyamory

Polymarine, Ben x Ryn x Maddie (Siren) canon

Rajalagang, Rajan x Kala x Wolfgang (Sense8) canon

SargeRedK, Sarge x Red x 10K (Z Nation) (this is just an edit @lizzysong and made because there are no pictures of them all together. The writers are cowards) Canon IN MY HEART

Wes x Fred x Gunn (Angel the Series) could be canon if the show wasn't made in early 2000s by COWARDS (and you know what, Lilah could have been part of it if she hadn't died)

Jonathan x Nancy x Steve (Stranger Things) listen, though, y'all, it could still happen

Add your Love Triangles that should have ended in Polyamory and complain about how the writers are all COWARDS

[anthonyed]

stevetony: our wedding, our rule

in his entire life - all 106 years included - this is the most pivotal moment. easily beats the time he crashed the valkyrie. or the time he woke up in 21st century, 70 years drawing blank - nothing. including the time he refitted into the captain america costume, wielding the shield, out on his first mission after being frozen, mistaken to be dead. although, that comes close to second.

not because of captain america or shield. no. it's because of whom he met then. the first time, he laid his eyes on his soon to be husband; tony stark.

standing in front of the mirror, steve palms down the pressed vest, feeling the spikes and dips of carefully stitched buttons. the material itself feels sleek. unimaginably expensive, he's sure. but he's not dumb to cross path with the combined force of miss potts and natasha when it comes to his wedding attire.

he smiles as bucky pins the corsage over the breast of his vest. the jacket's an afterthought. only, and only because it's sweltering hot here in tony's private island that even natasha has to exchange her embroiddered magnificience for something more breathable. therefore, naturally the rest of them are excused as well.

"you're not nervous, are you?" sam tips his head curiously, regarding him from the balcony where he'd perched himself on for the last ten minutes. champagne in one hand and phone in another, he looks as dapper as bucky does in his best man's suit, shades on, hiding half of his face in style.

bucky snorts, straightening up as he pats down steve's chest, the grin on his face wider than last month when steve met him. "punk's more excited than nervous" he answers for him, reading steve as easily as he did when they were sixteen and steve tried signalling him to call for help behind an enormous scowl and ego because he might have broken something somewhere. softly, he says, "'m happy for you, stevie"

steve grins back, shoving trembling fingers hurriedly into his pants' pockets. there's half an hour more before they step out. the needles in his brain are ticking, counting each second down.

bucky's grin disappears and he opens his mouth to say something but gets abruptly cut off by the door slamming open to reveal a carefully collected natasha. she's carrying an empty flute in one hand which she promptly refills and steve physically feels the tensed undercurrent sizzling beneath her faux exterior. "is everything okay?" he asks, command voice slipping in clumsily.

natasha regards him above her flute, chugging the alcohol down smoothly before she answers him, voice clipped. "stop being nervous, you're making me nervous."

that's not what steve asked for but she looks less eager to entertain anymore questions, siddling up to sam quietly, although steve doesn't completely miss the quick glance she throws at bucky on her way out. something clicks into places in steve's mind, in the parts where the clock isn't ticking by, and he blinks, curiosity pinging, but he pushes them for another day. today, it's all about tony and him only.

natasha grumpily holds onto his jacket, seated in the front row, next to miss potts who's carrying a matching one, steve notes with bubbling excitement, belongs to tony

he's up front. bucky and sam by his side and he's taking extra cautions from scuffing his luxurious shoes on the ground. natasha's poker face is reminder enough. but that only means that the knots over his shoulders keep tightening painfully with each passing moment in tony's absence; his nervous energy building up with no means of release until -

- until they do. all, exponentially. with a whoosh of breath. just as he spots tony, arm in arm with colonel rhodes, beginning their walk down the aisle

steve's breath embarassingly catches in his throat and bucky has to nudge him, hissing, "breathe, idiot," for him to inhale. sharp and stinging as he realises belatedly that his eyes are stinging and his smile feels wet.

sam slips a hankie behind his back which steve accepts gratefully but doesn't manage to use it because he's suddenly distracted by dum-e, u and buttercup acting flower-girls, three steps in front, whom he had completely missed because he was too focused on the groom.

his groom.

soon to be husband. in exactly six minutes and 35 seconds. "jesus"

in the front row, natasha raises a neatly trimmed eyebrow; you alright? steve nods in her direction distractedly, unwilling to peel his eyes off of the approaching tony

tony, who looks otherwordly. beautiful. clad in similar ensamble to steve's except where steve's in white undershirt and american flag blue vest and pants, tony is in white undershirt but inky black vest and pants. both of their buttons and cufflinks matches. gold and intricately carved out initials: TS on steve's and SR on tony's. the corsage over steve's breast is a mesh of red florals which steve could never learn their names of whilst the one over tony's are white and cream. tony also carries a bouquet with a long trailing pair of wide width pale yellow ribbon, glimmering gorgeously under the morning sun of the caribbean.

"i love you." steve blurts out, when colonel rhodes places tony's hand into his awaiting one. he faintly registers the surprised snort which comes from his immediate right; bucky, but nothing in that moment can steal his focus from tony. not even the soft squeeze that colonel rhodes lays on his left biceps. except -

well, except U. because U just so happens to loose his balance and wheels right over steve's left foot in its enthusiasm to hold out the wedding bands.

"dear lord, they're embarassing" tony hisses under his breath, but the glare he directs at U is softened by amused affection and steve struggles from leaning in and kissing tony right then and there.

the officiant; thor - because despite what tony says, steve does have a healthy sense of humour - clears his throat loudly, like a booming thunder in the broad open space, louder than the ocean kissing the shore in their background, and tony mouths a quick "love you too" to steve before he turns to face him, eyes just as misty as his other half. steve follows his suite with a second to spare

their vow is simple and traditional. they've thought about making it more persobal but life got over them and time zoomed pass instead of crawling so long story short, they didn't manage to compose one in time. miss potts and nat are particularly disgruntled by that but hey, it's as tony had pointed out; "our wedding, our rule"

and it's perfect. where it lacked personal touch, they compensated with their ingrained wedding bands. steve's read: shellhead's and tony's read: winghead's. they really couldn't be more specific and lame. but it's them.

when thor offically announces them married, steve hefts tony off of the ground, wrapped in his arms tightly and kisses him. deep and branding. all those words he couldn't say then; mine, husband, love you so much, forever, love you, i'm yours - he rolls them down his tongue and feeds them into tony's mouth. searing hot.

he can hear several groans, the ones from tony's far left: harley and peter, are the loudest, but steve holds on. grinning as tony does too, into their kiss. honeyed, passionate ones pushed later for lingering, happy ones; simply pressing his outstretched smile into tony's. achingly soft.

it's someone wolf-whistling that makes them part away. and steve spots the culprit; clint, just as quickly. seated with his family in the second row. steve beams at him, arms still wrapped around tony's waist, who's beginning to squirm away from steve, now that he's noting.

"where are you going?" steve squints down at his husband, mirth clouding his blue eyes, making it impossible for him to feel anything other than happiness on this pivotal day.

tony manages a smirk which quickly wavers into a wide grin (looks like steve's not the only one unable to stop smiling right now and isn't he beyond glad to share that blessing with tony). "you can't be holding me all day, steve" tony - his husband, retorts, aiming for sass but teasing along the curb of challenge, making steve ache to seize the oppurtunity to prove him wrong.

"i think i can" he smirks, nosing beneath sharp angled jaw

"yeah?" tony asks breathily and steve pulls him closer in, coiling his arms tighter to prove his point

"watch me"

true to his words, he never lets tony leave his arm throughout the ceremony. not even when tony had to toss the bouquet, which lands in miss pott's surprised hand. or during dining. or greeting and thanking the guests for attending.

"you're impossible" tony tells him amusedly on the dance floor, winding his own arms up and around steve's neck, cheek pressing into his chest; listening to his heartbeat, steve knows without a single doubt.

steve kisses his temple and murmurs into his ear, palm pressed over the small of his husband's back, "our wedding, our rule"

[thats-h0w-th3-light-g3ts-in]

Just a brief overview of couples that absolutely belong together If you have ever shipped at least one of those couples it is your obligation as a fan to reblog this or eternal misery will overfall them!!

[viperbarnes]

Uptown Boy – [Oneshot]

40s!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You've always played into the idea that you were nothing more than an airheaded, selfish socialite, it was easier than facing the rejection of who you truly were. Still, you were never able to fool your loyal driver, Bucky. No, Bucky Barnes saw right through you, and somehow he adored you anyway.

Warnings: lots of smut! reader is a bit of a mess, she's rude af lmao. there is a scene where somebody attempts to assault her, but it is not very vivid and they are stopped. the reader has a name, but it's written as a reader insert. she's described as being steve's half sister, but they are not blood related at all, and i wrote her as a woc, but there are no overt descriptions of her. i think that's all.

Notes: This is another of my old oneshots! This was a direct counterpart to my series Uptown Girl, which was about socialite!bucky, but you don't need to read it to read this.

story below the cut because it starts with smut lol

“Keep going, that’s it, that’s it… holy shit…” You grin wickedly despite your heaving chest and breathlessness. You have a vice grip on Bucky’s shoulders, his rough hands holding your hips just as tight as you bounce on his lap.

The space is small and cramped, but it wasn’t as if you’d never done it before. Your dress is gathered at your waist, out of the way, but pulled open at the front to expose your chest. He always did like to see your body, the very few times you allowed it.

“You feel so good Lilah, so fuckin—” you cut him off with your lips, his mindless sex babble always grated on you a little.

Not really, but it was easier to say that than admit anything else.

“Come on Barnes, fuck me good and proper, like you promised,” You whine, knowing full well he’s putty in your hands. Your own fingers swirl over the bundle of nerves just above where you’re connected, and really, with all the unbecoming grunting sounds he makes, you’re so close.

“Jesus Christ, you’re a fuckin vixen… I’ll fuck you good and proper like you deserve? Little brat,” You half scoff, half-laugh. He always got a little mean when he realised your games but that was just fine by you.

“You gonna teach me a lesson, Daddy?” You pout, gasping when your jaw is grabbed harshly, and yanked forward. You moan into his mouth as he kisses you hard, his cock slowing to give you long strokes that push your limits and you finally come apart around him, your spine arching as your release is pulled from you, around you in soft little waves.

Bucky pulls out of you, and you scoot back to watch as he only palms himself twice before he's cupping his hand over the head, trying to minimise the mess of his cum spurting out. You swallow at the sight but begin fixing yourself before he can recover.

“For the record. I don’t think that’s even half of what you deserve,” His voice, deep and rough, sends a shiver down your spine despite yourself and you look up at him, smirking and raising your brow.

“Oh? Not enough spanking? Maybe next time you should bend me over and—”

“I mean the back of the car. If I had it my way you’d have a bed,” The sureness with which he speaks makes your heart thump but you push it away.

This was only fun. It didn’t mean anything. He knew it as well as you.

You grab your purse and quickly check your hair and makeup, powdering your face and fixing your lipstick.

“I have to go.”

“I know.”

“I’ll see you later.”

“Will you?” You look up at him, smiling lazily at you and you bristle.

“Not with that attitude you won’t. Fix it first, driver,” It’s snarky, needlessly so, but it soothes over whatever soft feeling arises at the look he gives you.

“Have a good evening, Miss Langley.” You scoff and push open the car door.

You suppose the attitude is to be expected. It’s what you get for fucking your driver, some fella not nearly as high on the social ring as you. But maybe that’s why you liked doing it, he was rough, not afraid to grab you, to push you around a little… and maybe you liked that more than you’ll admit.

You fix your hair one last time as you step up along the gravel driveway toward the main house. Your parent’s butler opens the door for you as you near, and you give him a small, genuine smile.

“Stan. Good to see you well.”

“And you Miss Langley! It’s been too long!”

“I don’t like to leave the city, you know me,”

The older gentleman takes your coat you'd only just put on and your gloves, and you give him one last friendly smile.

“You go sit down, I know my way.”

“Thank you, Miss Langley, Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Stan.”

You turn back to the main foyer and roll your eyes at the laughter you can already hear coming from the drawing-room. You steel yourself and take a breath, before moving forward.

“Ah! If it isn’t my darling daughter! Gentlemen, let me introduce her!” You stand still as your Father approaches you, hand gliding over your back as he ushers you further into the room. You hadn’t been aware your parents had invited anybody but you.

“My youngest child, Delilah Langley. You might have seen her exploits in some of those gossip magazines–”

“–But I wouldn’t believe a word!” your mother adds sharply from the couch, and you look back to the men in front of you.

“Of course not. I’ve never swum in a chiffon dress. It's strictly silk or nothing,” your father bristles and coughs, but the gentlemen laugh kindly.

“Delilah, this is Mr Reginald Gorman and his son, Andrew Gorman,”

“A pleasure,” you shake their hands politely. Andrew is around your age, handsome enough but not really your type. Not nearly rough enough, with his perfectly combed hair and pristine suit. Your mother stands then, clasping her gloved hands together, her rings clinking against one another.

“Delilah, why don’t we powder our noses?” you want to roll your eyes, but instead, you smile politely at the two men.

“If you would excuse me,” you let your mother hook your arm around her as she leads you off to the nearest powder room.

The moment you’re alone, you take the time to pull out your lipstick, reapplying it once again and looking yourself over in the mirror.

“You need to pull yourself together,” your mother says, and you do roll your eyes this time.

“You smell like filth, like—like sex,”

You fix her with a bored look.

“That’s because I just let my driver fuck me in the backseat of my car. He’s very good at it, you see.”

She looks scandalised and glares harshly.

“That isn’t even funny. Don’t say stupid things,” she hisses, pulling perfume from one of the draws in the counter, and spritzing it over you.

“What did I do to deserve a daughter like…”

You stop speaking and you glower.

“The Gorman’s are well connected and they would be an excellent partner for your father to have in the business,” she says then, and you frown.

“Okay...”

“Andrew is your age. He’s handsome and—”

“You aren’t seriously trying to set me up, are you?!”

“Why not?”

You stare at her incredulously before she huffs and shakes her head.

“Delilah, you need to get over yourself. All you have to do in this life is to marry well, whatever you want to do on the side is up to you. You’re such a selfish girl, you’d have everything you’d want!”

“Oh, except for a loving marriage, excuse me!” you seeth, you can’t even believe she was suggesting this.

“What year is it?! 1789?!” you continue.

“Look who you were born into, look at the family you have and that of those around you. You don’t get to make those choices,” your mother scolds and you know just from her tone she’s not going to listen. Whatever you have to say she’ll ignore.

“Fix your hair and when you come back out, I expect a different attitude,” she breezes past you and you glare at her in the mirror and when the door shuts, you glare at your own reflection and the fact you’d told Bucky the same thing ten minutes ago.

All your life no matter what you did, the grades you got, how smart you were, nothing ever mattered to your parents aside from the way you looked and presented. Your brother was kind, he knew his parents ignored your education in favour of his, and he’d try to stand up for you, but he had his own issues. You don’t blame him for leaving the country the moment he could.

You played into who they wanted you to be. A socialite they wanted, a socialite they got. You partied too hard, flirted with every man in a ten-foot radius. It was fun, if you were honest, being the smartest person in the room at any given moment, playing them all for fools while you got what you wanted.

But it was biting you in the ass now.

It was too late to change your direction, you were a little past the normal age women settled down, it was now or never really. But you don’t know Andrew Gorman, and if you did know him, you doubted he’d be any different from every other rich boy with a rich father who lived off of their money.

You quickly fix your hair, making it a little messier even, and make your way back to the dining room.

You flirt heavily, almost too much with Andrew, your mother glaring at you across the table.

When dinner is over and the small group retire to the drawing-room once more, you excuse yourself to the bathroom but instead glide out of the home.

Bucky is waiting for you, opening the door and you don’t acknowledge him beyond a nod, sliding into the backseat.

The drive home is quiet. You’re lost in your thoughts.

You’d flirted with Andrew, but you hadn’t really paid him much mind. He was boring, a banker. Ugh. And your parents wanted you to marry him.

You imagine it, being married to him, having boring sex, living in a boring house, boring children. You half want to vomit.

You arrive home quickly, and you step out before Bucky can get the door, ignoring him as he calls a goodnight after you. You bathe and change and you’re halfway through brushing your hair when there’s a tapping on your window.

You ignore it, only looking up in the mirror as you go about pinning your hair back from your face and wiping your lipstick off. The window jiggles and then pops open, and you quickly look away, focusing on your own reflection as Bucky steps through the window, his foot landing on your bed briefly before he steps down, turns and closes the glass again.

“How many times do I need to tell you not to step on my bed with those disgusting boots?!” you huff, and finally, meet his eye in the mirror.

“Come off it, Lilah. What’s gotten into you tonight?” Bucky crosses his arms over his chest. You bristle at his concerned frown and finish wiping your face.

“You know I never like spending time with ‘The Langley’s’,”

Bucky shakes his head.

“No, it’s more than that. You’re upset.”

Again, you bristle, because he had absolutely no right to know you that well.

“It’s nothing.”

“Is it nothing? Or is it nothing that you want me to worry about?” he challenges, and God, you hate him sometimes.

You stand, letting your nightgown fall open, fully aware you hadn’t put pyjamas on yet.

“Both,” you purr, stepping to him, letting your hand slide over his chest. His eyes follow you and you know you’ve got him distracted enough that he’ll stop asking about your business. You push on his chest and he stumbles back, catches himself on the edge of your bed and you pounce, following him down.

You sink to your knees in front of him, fingers tugging at his pants already, the buttons coming apart fast and you’re pulling his cock from the confines of his briefs.

“Jesus, sweetheart…” Bucky breaths above you, his hands trailing over your shoulders and up to your hair as you lean over him.

Your lips settle around him quickly, and you know it's probably not a good thing, but you always loved the rebellious thrill you felt when you were fucking somebody.

It felt wrong, and that felt right.

You bob your head quickly, swirling your tongue over and under him, listening to his gasps and grunts of approval, your core tingling whenever his hands tighten and pull on your hair.

“God, you’re so good at that, baby, keep going, all the way….. Fuck!”

You genuinely preen at the praise, push yourself until you feel him hit the back of your throat and you hold there for a moment before pulling back completely, gasping and breathing hard. Bucky groans, watching you, one hand still in your hair, and the other moving to take himself in hand.

“Here, sweetheart lemme see…”

You open your mouth, still breathing hard and lick around his head, the velvety skin hot and throbbing under your lips and you watch him watching you.

“Fuck, you’re so good, hmm? So good, darlin’...”

You sink over him again and keep his eye contact. His free hand pushes your gown open, down your shoulders and he reaches forward, palming a breast with a groan. He pinches a nipple tightly and you whine around his cock.

“Yeah, do that sweetheart, fuck, make some noise for me,”

You do as asked, really the only time you obey anybody when they tell you what to do. You moan around him, helped by the fact he keeps pinching your nipple, and you can tell now with how he twitches that he’s close.

“God, you’re so pretty like this, so pretty when you ain’t talking back. Should just put my cock in your mouth next time you mouth off, mhmm?”

You whine at the thought of him pushing you to your knees, his length heavy in your mouth. You whine at the fact you have him between your lips now.

“Would you like that? Bet you would, filthy little brat,” he always gets more talkative the closer he is and you fucking love it. His hands tighten in your hair, pulling and you moan as he comes, the back of your throat coated in hot white and you swallow around him, relishing in the feel. You pull back a little and suck on the head of his cock until he’s jerking back from you, half a chuckle out his lips already.

“Fuckin’ hell…”

You pout up at him, watching as he recovers, and duck under his slightly softening length, lips wrapping around one of his balls and you suck lightly, wanting more from him, but he’s pushing you away again.

“You’re gonna need to give me a second, christ,”

You scrunch your nose and sit back.

With your small rebellion completed and the past five minutes committed to memory, you don’t feel much like any more tonight.

You hum and pull your nightgown closed again as you stand.

“I have an early morning,” you say, turning away from him and moving to your bathroom. Bucky shifts and watches you, blinking.

“Oh… I thought…”

“Not tonight. You got what you came for, now I need to sleep,” you can’t see him from where you stand at your sink, and for some reason, you feel nervous.

Bucky frowns a little, but tucks his cock back into his briefs, pulling his pants up and buttoning them.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then, Miss Langley.”

You don’t reply, can’t bring yourself with how quietly dejected he sounds.

It was only fun. It didn’t mean anything. You both knew it.

You hear your window open and close and when you finally exit your bathroom, you lock it, turning out your light, and wishing he’d fought you on staying.

“Is Catherine really wearing Chanel with those Balenciaga’s?!”

You turn to look over your shoulder, to a table some ways away and stifle a snort.

“You know how much she likes to remind people how rich daddy is,”

“Regardless of class.”

You chuckle at that, and lean back in your seat, sipping your champagne.

Another day, another breakfast luncheon.

“Have you seen that Andrew Gorman, Delilah?”

You turn back to Renee, rolling your eyes.

“He’s here? Christ, my mother’s relentless,” you down the rest of your glass.

“Wait, your mother? Is she trying to set you up with Andrew?!”

Your other friend, Susie leans forwards, and you roll your eyes again.

“Trying. She thinks she can just tell me who to marry and that’s that.”

Renee and Susie exchange looks and you frown.

“What?”

“Well, why wouldn’t you want to marry him?”

“What?”

“He’s handsome—”

“—rich—”

“—What more do you need?”

You stare at the two in front of you before leaning forwards and grasping the champagne bottle by the neck, pouring yourself another glass.

“Perhaps love? Is that so foolish?”

“Oh come on Delilah, when have you ever wanted love?!” Renee laughs and you notice for the first time what an ugly sound it is.

“Perhaps when it comes to marriage?” you shoot back. A hand comes to rest over yours.

“All a good marriage requires is money and a blind eye,” Susie says matter-of-factly and you glare.

“Oh, yes, because being forced to spend your days with someone you despise, while a lover sneaks around truly fathering your children is much better,” you hiss, and she bristles, smoothing down her dress.

“There is absolutely no pro—”

“—shut up, Susie,” you snap. You were hardly in the mood anymore.

You have no idea why you spend your time with either of the women, they were so shallow and conceited and— 

Well, you suppose you are too. If it walks like a duck…

But you know you aren’t. Not really.

Well, maybe a little.

But you were more than that. You knew business, you’d studied with your brother, not officially, but he’d lend you his books, encourage you in your learning. You weren’t dumb, regardless of popular belief, and regardless of how much you encouraged it.

Once upon a time, you’d dreamed of going to Paris, studying fashion, perhaps opening your own boutique, but after your brother had left the States, your parents had insisted you stay.

You don’t want to marry Andrew. You don’t want to be a trophy wife with a string of children who all look suspiciously like your driver.

You quickly finish your glass, standing abruptly and grabbing your purse.

“Where are you—?”

“—I’ve had my fill of bourgeoisie for today,” you turn up your nose at the two women, even as they gasp in offence, and take your leave.

You exit the hotel ballroom without much flair, breezing past several older society ladies who scoff at you as you go.

In the lobby, you spy Bucky sitting on one of the couches, newspaper in hand. He looks up as you step past him, double-taking before he hurries to stand, folding the paper and rushing after you, getting the door before you reach it, but only just.

“They run dry already, Miss Langley?” he asks, following you down the steps of the hotel.

“Not everything is about drinking and dancing,”

“Well, no, it isn’t. But it’s usually a pretty good guess when it comes to you.”

You shoot him a deep glare, but don’t reply as you both wait for your car to be brought around.

“Home, Ma’am?” Bucky asks, looking at you in the rearview mirror.

“My father's building,” you correct him.

“His�� The Langley Holdings building?”

“Is that not what I just said?” you know you’re being snappy, and truly he doesn’t deserve your ire, but why must you explain yourself to everyone?!

Bucky raises a brow, but nods and you stare out the window as the city begins to move slowly by.

You arrive in good time, it was still near midday and if you were lucky, your father won’t have finished his lunch hour yet.

“Shall I wait?”

“You know I love it when you wait on me,” you smile slyly at Bucky as you pass him, your hand briefly playing against his lapel and he snorts as he closes the door.

“Don’t I know it.”

Being your father’s daughter means the moment you step into the building, you’re escorted wherever you want without question. You ride the elevator quietly as it takes you all the way up to the twentieth floor, and when the doors roll open, you step out without waiting for your escort.

“I can show myself, George,” you dismiss the man with a wave of your hand and continue past the receptionist who sputters at you as you push through the large mahogany doors of your father’s office. You close them behind you.

“Delilah? What are you doing here?” Your father grins brightly from behind his desk, standing as you move forward.

“I want a job,” you tell him, your voice steady and your hands clasped in front of you. Your father’s brow raises high and he fixes you with a highly amused look.

“A job?! Why on earth would you want a job?!”

“Because I believe I could be a valuable asset. You know I’m not dumb, you’re always telling me in your lectures. I don’t want to—”

“—Delilah, I’m not going to give you a job.”

Your mouth shuts with the firmness in his tone and you blink. You weren’t used to being told ‘no’ from anyone.

“Think of all that stress and time…” he moves around his desk to wrap an arm around your shoulder, and you frown up at his condescending demeanour.

“All you need to worry about is making it work with Andrew Gorm—”

“Oh for god’s sake!” You tear away from him, throwing your hands up in the air.

“You can’t just— Tell me who I’m going to marry!” you explode, and your father’s face turns furious, he raises a finger to point at you.

“I can and I will if you want to live off of my money!”

Your mouth shuts again, and you stare at him incredulously for a moment.

“You’re not going to continue to laze about on my dime. You can either marry Gorman or you’ll be cut off. That is final—”

You don’t stay to listen to anything else he might say, storming out of his office as fast as you’d come. You manage to keep a straight face all the way down to the lobby, right until you climb back into your car, slamming the door as hard as you can, making Bucky jump.

“Drive.”

“Where?”

“Anywhere! Jesus, just drive! It’s your damn job!” you yell, and immediately feel awful. It wasn’t Bucky’s fault.

God, why were you always so awful to him.

He blinks but you feel the car pull away. You sink into the corner of your seat, unable to stop yourself as you begin to sob into your fist. You slouch down and try to curl yourself up as small as possible.

This was your own fault really.

You’d spent so many years playing into the idea that you really were as dumb as everyone thought, and now you weren’t so sure it really was all an act. Nobody truly smart would limit their own options like you had.

You really were nothing but a selfish, spoiled, little rich girl. No real education, no prospects, just your father’s money. and stupid Andrew Gorman.

You don’t hide your crying as well as you hoped you might, because after a few minutes you feel the car pull to a stop. In your misery and self loathing, you’re about to snap at Bucky to drive again, but before you can, he’s climbing out of his seat and into the back with a slammed door.

You sob more, realising even after how terribly you treated him, he was going to try to comfort you. You don’t deserve it.

You’re engulfed in warmth, the comfort only another body can offer and you don’t stop yourself from wrapping your arms around his neck, holding him tightly as you cry.

Bucky doesn’t seem to mind that you’re crying all over him, which makes you cry more, he just adjusts his hold on you, arms soothingly running up and down your back as you weep.

“Shh, it’s alright Li, I’ve got you, let it out, sweetheart…”

You want him to hate you, for how mean you are to him, but he can’t even do that with how good he is.

“What’s wrong, baby? What happened?”

You can only shake your head, any words you have dying into a sobbed babble.

“I’m s-sorry… I-I’m sorry,” you snivel after a while and Bucky pulls back, looking down at you in both genuine sympathy and shock. His eyes soften after a moment though and he cups your face, wiping away your tears.

“Now I know something’s really wrong…” he says quietly, a tiny smile playing on his lips.

“When my unapologetic little brat apologises to me…”

You can’t help but snort, trying to make it sound like a scoff but you fail, and he smiles wider, having made you smile.

He removes his hand from your face and you whine quietly, only for it to return a moment later when he pulls his handkerchief from his jacket pocket, wiping your eyes.

“You’re alright, Lilah. Whatever it is. You’re the smartest, most capable dame I know. You’ll get through, Sweetheart.”

You nod, wanting him to ask you what is wrong, but he doesn’t, having learnt his lesson from last night, and it’s nothing you don’t deserve.

Bucky holds you for a while longer, before driving you home, and you spend the rest of your day ruminating in your room, thinking over your options.

Your mother, ambitious as she is on your behalf, arranges a date for you and Andrew Gorman, and thanks to her knowing you’d never agree otherwise, you don’t realise until you’re standing getting into the car.

Gorman has only smiled sheepishly at your barely contained surprise, and before you could even get back out again, he’d raised his hands in surrender.

“Please, Miss Langley, hear me out! I just want to take you out once, I promise you, you’ll change your mind.”

You’d only huffed, and raised an eyebrow. You highly doubted that.

He had surprised you somewhat when you’d exited the car sometime later only to find yourself all the way out in Coney Island, standing in front of Luna Park.

“An amusement park?” You ask dryly. Andrew straightens his coat jacket and smiles in the way only somebody who had a reason to do so could.

“I might have heard you think bankers are boring,” he says, offering an arm to you.

“I do. They are,” you reply, eyeing him gingerly before looping your hand through his elbow.

“Let me show you I’m not,” he smiles boyishly again and when he looks away, you roll your eyes.

It was as if he’d made a list of places that would make him seem relaxed and carefree, and yet while in line you spy him scrunching you his nose at the sight of screaming children and families.

Andrew pays for your tickets and you move around the park slowly, every so often offering comments on an attraction, or food that looked positively middle-class.

You’ve narrowly escaped an attempt to persuade you onto the Ferris wheel, and you’re looking around you for a place that might sell you something with an alcohol content above that on the breath of the food tenders as they exhale over their wares, but you see none.

What you do see, however, makes your skin crawl.

Bucky, dressed not in his usual black suit, but in shades of brown and white, his sleeves rolled up slightly, and his jacket slung over his arm. This alone wouldn’t upset you, it was his day off after all, except that he’s handing his jacket and hat to a pretty girl, winking at her as he does so, and further pushing up his sleeves as he grasps the hammer of the game they’re stood in front of.

A date?

Bucky was on a date?!

Jealousy overcomes you and you have the urge to run over and slap the girl across the cheeks. And then him. Twice.

How dare he?

Well, because he wasn’t yours, that’s how, the rational part of your brain argues, and you seeth.

Andrew directs you to a place to sit and eat, and you spy Bucky and his date moving to another restaurant seating area nearby too. He leaves the girl with a smile as he moves over to inspect the food options and your eyes quickly snap to your own date.

“Would you excuse me for a moment?”

“Oh, sure! I’ll watch the table.” Gorman says, looking around for a waiter, and you roll your eyes again. You disappear into the crowd easily, following Bucky until you spy him nearing a stall nearer to the edge of the rows of food stalls and tents.

By the time you’ve cornered him behind a tent, pulling him by the hand and shirt, he’s blinking in surprise at you.

“Lila—”

You cut him off with a kiss, a reminder more than anything, and for a moment he relaxes, kissing you back. You spin a hand around the nape of his neck, flicking your tongue across his own before you pull away just slightly.

“Does she kiss you like this? I bet not,” you scoff, dragging him back to you and for one more blissful second his mouth slots perfectly against yours.

That ends when he suddenly pulls away from you, stepping away, glaring down at you.

“What?” he spits. You coo, purring as you step forward into his space again, dragging your hand over his chest.

“Your date,” you say, jerking in surprise when Bucky takes your hand and pushes it off him, stepping back again.

“What is wrong with you?” he demands, and you feel the words slice through your stomach, spinning it around in confusion and embarrassment.

“What?”

“You can’t just— Delilah, what I do on my own time is up to me. You’ve made it perfectly clear that us— what we do, is just fun. That’s all. You can’t— you can’t insert yourself wherever you want!” Bucky seethes. You blink at his angry words, though you can tell he’s restraining himself, like he’s explaining to a disobedient child, and it makes you even more annoyed.

“‘Insert’ myself?!” you repeat, ready to chew his ear off, but your words die in your throat when he raises a hand to quiet you, shaking his head.

“Go home, Miss Langley.”

Bucky leaves you open-mouthed in the spaces behind the tents. Your anger at his scolding helps you not to cry, and you straighten your dress, fix your hair briefly, before stepping back out into the crowds.

Fine. If he didn’t want you, you’d find someone who did.

Then he’d be sorry.

You sights set on Andrew as you saunter back to the table, and you briefly catch sight of Bucky, his gaze following you for just a moment until you sit back down and you know he’s seen Andrew now.

Good. Serves him right.

You lay it on thick. You don’t even feel bad about it, because Andrew seemed more than happy for you to hang at his side as you walked, laughing girlishly at his bad jokes. You flirt terribly, all your inner turmoil disappearing slightly every time the man blushes just slightly. But it always comes back again, so you keep going.

You stay out with him all day, longer than you’d intended to, and when the park finally begins quietening down, you make your way back to the car.

“I’m glad you had a good time,” Andrew says, and you laugh.

“Eventually, at least.”

“Have I changed your mind?” he asks, opening the car door for you, and you turn to him, humming in a faux deep thought.

“I’m not sure yet,” you reply. Really, you didn’t want to give the guy the entirely wrong idea. You had no plans on seeing him again.

“Oh? I should try harder then.”

You almost smile at the words, but it’s cut off when he grabs your face, pressing his lips to yours clumsily.

At first you’re in shock, not quite knowing what’s happening, but it doesn’t last long, and you’re pushing him away as best you can.

“Andrew! Get off me!” you scold. Some men just needed to be set on the right track forcibly. Andrew’s brows raise, but he doesn’t let you go, his hands now sliding down to hold your body to him.

“You seemed so interested earlier, touching me, smiling, laughing… come on sweetheart, don’t leave a fella hanging…”

You gasp, struggling again when he’s kissing you once more, but his hold on you this time is too strong for you to push away.

Still, you squirm as much as you can, trying to rip your mouth from his, and when you do for half a second you scream.

“Help!—” you’re drowned out by his hand slapping over your mouth and you’re shoved back into the side of the car.

“Shut up, and get in!” Andrew growls, already pushing you down.

You kick at him, try to scratch him with your nails, but you’re blindsided by a powerful thwack to your cheek, your vision spinning for a moment as pain blooms in your jaw. 

Anger, fury overcomes you then, and you kick out even harder at the man trying to crowd you, his hands gathering up the bottom of your skirts.

“Get off me! Get the fuck off me!”

“Such a filthy mouth, we’ll have to do something about that,” Andrew chuckles. A pit opens in your stomach then as his hand latches onto the front of your dress, ripping it open and you can’t help it, you cry.

“Stop it, Andrew! Please! Get off—” you choke out, scared of how pathetic you sound to your own ears. However, before Andrew can get his hands on you further, he is suddenly yanked back, away from the car.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” a familiar voice growls, and you push yourself up, covering your chest, watching with wide eyes as Bucky steps between you and Andrew, his shoulders squared, his face the most furious you’d ever seen it.

“I think there’s been a misunderstanding, pal, my wife is just being diffic—”

“She’s not your wife,” Bucky cuts him off, and Andrew bristles and seethes, looking him up and down then.

“I’m warning you buddy, get lost now,” Andrew attempts to threaten, but Bucky only steps even closer, finger prodding harshly into the other man’s chest.

“No, I’m warning you; you ever even think about touching her again, and they won’t even know where to start looking for your body,” Bucky hisses, his voice dangerous, and you’re briefly reminded of why exactly you’d hired him. Andrew’s face flashes with fear, and you see him swallow. You finally gather yourself enough to clamber to your feet, holding your torn dress together.

“You got that, kid?” Bucky’s still threatening, still crowding the other man’s space when you stumble forward to grasp his arm, tugging slightly.

“Bucky, please, can we go?” you sniffle, relieved when he wraps turns from Andrew and immediately throws his arm around your shoulder, however he doesn’t break his eye contact with Andrew for another moment or so, until he’s guiding you away from the car.

You’re shaking involuntarily still sniffling when suddenly Bucky freezes, and he looks down at you, searching you over.

“Are you alright?! I heard someone scream, I didn’t— I didn’t realise it was you until I saw him…”

You nod, wrapping your arms around yourself as the evening chill sets in on top of your shaken nerves and ripped dress.

“Aw Jesus, what the fuck…” he laments, looking you over again, taking in your torn dress and you shrug.

“It’s fine, I’m fine,” you deflect, but his eyes only darken. Before he can say anything however, a shout from nearby makes you both look up.

“Bucky?! Buck what happened?!” A young girl, the same one from earlier you realise, runs over. You can’t help but bristle as she nears and Bucky steps away from you and toward her.

“Becca, pass me my jacket, her dress got ripped up.”

The girl, Becca, holds out the brown coat as she nears, and Bucky quickly takes it from her, turning back to you and wrapping it around your shoulders, fussing with it for a few moments like a mother hen.

You pull your arms through the sleeves and adjust it to cover you properly.

“Thank you,” you say quietly, eyeing them both as the girl comes to stand next to Bucky, and he places a hand on her back.

“Lilah, this is my sister, Rebecca,” he tells you, eyeing you knowingly.

You blink.

Sister?

You didn’t know he had a sister! You’d thought she was his date!

You feel utterly foolish for your display earlier, but try to not let it show as Becca smiles obliviously, and more importantly, kindly at you.

“Oh, I know who you are, my brother talks about you—” she’s cut off by Bucky nudging her, and you look between the siblings for a moment before clearing your throat.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Becca… I’m– I’m sorry for ruining your evening,” you sigh, wiping your face and she rushes forward, making you jump when she takes your hands in her own, as if you’d known her for years.

“Of course not! We heard your crying, I’m just glad Bucky found you!”

“As am I…” you sigh, looking down at yourself before you straighten.

“Well, I will walk back to the main office and ask somebody to call me a cab—”

“Like hell, you will,” Bucky says, receiving a nudge of his own from Becca.

“I’ll take you home. Come on.”

You aren’t given much room for argument, not when Becca wraps her arms through yours and pulls you along.

“I have to drop Becca home first, or Ma will hide me for making her miss dinner, but then we’ll be on our way,” Bucky tells you once you’re settled in the car, looking at you in the rearview mirror. You only nod silently, and he frowns.

As the Island meets the mainland, and you begin driving through Brooklyn, you find yourself mesmerised with the sights you’re met with.

You’d never really been to Brooklyn before, not these parts anyway, and as the houses get older, the clear level of wealth does as well.

Bucky lived here? Your family paid him well, you don’t know what exactly, but it wasn’t like you couldn’t afford to, so why was his family home in such an area of town?

You pull up at last to a house tucked next five to identical homes, all of them in various states of disrepair. The paint was slightly chipped, and you spy a rip in the flywire as you’re led up the steps, Becca having convinced you both to come inside first.

“Ma! We’re home!” Bucky calls out, closing the door behind him, and once again you’re mesmerised. You’d never seen a home that looked so cluttered and yet, organised and clean. The couch had patches sewn into it on spots, the radio sitting above the fireplace was old, even for the model type, and the curtains were similar, but mismatching.

A woman steps around the corner from the kitchen, apron on over a simple dress. Immediately, you see the family resemblance and can’t stop  from smiling to yourself.

“There you are! I was wondering when you wer—” she stops, eyes landing on you, before she looks between her children for a moment.

Bucky steps forward, his hand on your back.

“Mama, this is Miss Lilah Langley, I drive for her, remember.”

“Oh! Well, it’s lovely to meet you Miss Langley, I’m Winnie, Bucky’s mother! I’m so sorry, I’m afraid I’m not dressed for company!” she smooths out her apron nervously, and you wave her off, opening your borrowed jacket just a little.

“Neither am I, Mrs Barnes,” you tell her, and her eyes bug out.

“Wha— What on earth! You look like somebody dragged you through a hedge backwards, If I may say!” she hurries over to you then, buzzing around you in full mothering mode as she smooths down some of your hair, and cups your cheek, her thumb brushing over a rather sore spot on your cheek.

You feel your face warm at such tenderness and are glad when she looks to Bucky and Becca for an explanation.

“The creep she was out with, I found him tryna…” Bucky trails off awkwardly, looking to Becca who crosses her arms.

“He was tryna force himself on her, that’s what! Bucky ran over and told him what!” she says proudly, and Winnie gasps.

“I… I didn’t, I just told him to get lost…” Bucky rubs his neck, and it's sweet for you to see him in this environment. Clearly he was cursed to be surrounded by strong-willed women in every walk of his life. Or blessed, you aren’t sure.

Winnie looks back to you and strokes your cheek again.

“Oh darlin’, how awful, thank god for my boy, huh? How about we get you into something else for dinner, and then after I’ll fix this up? Hmm?”

You’re a little taken aback by how quickly she welcomes you fully and you stutter, your mouth a little dry.

“Becca, take Miss Lilah upstairs and find her something to put on, put her dress in the sewing room. I’ll take a look after we’ve eaten.”

You glance back at Bucky nervously as you’re directed up the stairs, and he watches you as you go, giving you a comforting nod.

“I’m afraid we don’t have anything quite as lovely as this…” Becca says once you’ve removed your torn dress, holding it to her face as she peers over the fabric and the stitching.

“It’s alright. I’m not allergic to lesser-quality—” you cut yourself off, face growing warm as you look at the younger woman.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

Becca eyes you, but shrugs.

“My mama will be able to fix this perfectly. Is this really Dior?” her voice sounds disbelieving and you frown a little as you pull the replacement dress up your hips, and fiddle with the buttons up the front.

“Of course. I bought it in Paris last year,” you tell her, and Becca sighs dreamily behind you. You turn, finding her pulling open a drawer that clangs slightly.

“Paris… how dreamy…”

You feel a little bad, maybe you shouldn’t have mentioned it, not when you can clearly see she and her mother share a bedroom that is the size of your shoe closet.

“Do you like fashion?” you hear yourself asking, as you step closer to see what she’s doing and find her rifling through a small collection of belts, all in various stages of wear or disrepair. She grins up at you with the brightest eyes you’ve ever seen.

“I love it! Sometimes I go to Mr Gorseki’s newsagent and read through Vogue. He always catches me though. But he does sell me the old issues for half price!”

You smile at the story and cock your head as she pulls out a belt and compares it up to the simple sky-blue day dress you wear.

“Hmm…” she puts it back and you watch her work for a moment, before pointing to a red belt.

“Why not that one?”

“Red? With blue?”

“It contrasts. You wear belts to accentuate your waist anyway, by wearing a contrasting colour there, you do more to draw the eye,” you say, and she stares up at you listening intently like you were a preacher.

“I see!” she pulls the red belt and you lift your arms so she can wrap it around your waist, buckling it at the front. She steps back and nods.

“I wish I could get away with wearing an outfit like that,” she sighs and you frown.

“You can.”

“Oh no, you don’t wanna dress too flashy round here. It’s just askin’ to get robbed,” she tells you, turning away to grab a hanger that she puts your dress on, before leading you from the room, down the hall.

“Oh. I see,” you say, swallowing curtly.

She opens another door, and moves in, hanging the dress from the curtain rail. The room was obviously a bedroom but had been converted into a sewing room, a desk with a simple machine set up on one side, and an ironing board and baskets of clothing littering the rest of it.

“Mama got so much work from the neighbourhood, she had to turn her bedroom into this just so she had enough space.”

“Work?” you ask, as she ushers you out again, turning off the light and closing the door.

“Yeah, she’s an amazing seamstress, she made the dress you’re wearing now!”

You look down at it, reconsidering it again. It was lovely, simple, but well made and designed.

“But, people started asking her to do their ironing as well, and now that’s mostly what she does. I think it upsets her, but she’ll lie and say honest work is good for the soul no matter.”

You hum and Becca delivers you to a small, cramped bathroom.

“Wash up your face. I’ll tell Mama to get some ice ready for you downstairs,” she tells you and you frown.

“Ice? For what?”

“Your cheek.” And then she closes the door.

You blink and turn to find the mirror, approaching it and gasping.

The left side of your jaw and cheek is mottled with a purple and blue bruise that blooms across your skin. You lean forward to poke at it and hiss, unsure of what you had expected.

Andrew had punched you. He’d actually hit you.

You move to sit on the edge of the bath and stare down at your hands. Anything could have happened if Bucky hadn’t heard you, if you hadn’t had that moment to scream. You imagine what might have transpired, what you would have done to get away. Tears sting at your eyes again and you jump with gasp at a gentle knocking on the door.

“Li? It's Bucky… Becca said you might need some ice…”

You stand, wiping your tears and putting on a brave face as you move to open the door.

“Thank you. I didn’t realise… I didn’t know how it looked…” you step back and take the offered bunch of ice, wrapped in a tea towel, but he doesn’t release it.

Bucky stares at you for a moment, before he sighs.

“Come on, sit down, lemme see.”

You obey quietly, unsure of what else you’re supposed to do, and hand him back the wad of ice as you sit on the bath. You stare straight ahead as he steps closer, gently tipping your face back with one hand, and pressing the frozen water to your cheek with the other.

“What your mother must think…” you shake your head just slightly and Bucky scoffs.

“She’s seen worse, trust me. Are you alright?” his question tucked on the end of his words makes you pause and you want to tell him once more that you’re fine, of course you are, but you can’t, your mouth disobeying your brain.

“Not really, no.”

Bucky stops moving then and the ice is replaced with his thumb, gently stroking your skin. You close your eyes at the threat of more tears, and lean into his touch.

“I’m sorry,” he speaks so softly you wonder how you’d even heard him.

“For what?” You let out a humourless laugh.

“Look at me. Lilah, look at me.”

You force yourself to open your eyes, and find Bucky crouched in front of you now, his own eyes boring into your own.

“I’m sorry for what I said earlier. It wasn’t… I shouldn’t have said it. I was upset, I thought you’d followed me…” his eyes dart down for a moment, but he looks back to you, and you can’t help but roll your eyes.

“As if I don’t have better things to do than to follow you on your day off, Barnes,” you sniff. His face scrunches into a grin, and he chortles.

“There you are. The quiet, thankful act was startin’ to worry me,” he jokes and you roll your eyes again. He stays smiling for a moment before he turns more serious again.

“Nobody's gonna touch you like that again, okay? You come and tell me, do you hear?” Bucky squeezes your hands, his voice low and dangerous again, but it doesn’t scare you. You nod, unable not to and Bucky lets out a breath.

“Good,” Bucky nods, and raises the ice back to your cheek, his other hand moving to smooth out and fix your messy hair. You find yourself conflicted between feeling unworthy of his concern, but preening at it all the same.

Dinner with the Barnes’ is a warm affair, Becca and Winnie asking you about your trip(s) to Paris, and fashion in general. You ask them about their own work, learning that Winnie was teaching Becca how to sew, but their day jobs often interfered. You laugh and smile more genuinely and more often than you have in years, and by the time you’re putting your repaired dress back on, your cheeks hurt, but not from Andrew’s slap.

“I would never have known it had been ripped, this is incredible work, Mrs Barnes!” you gush, and the older woman simply waves you off with a bashful smile.

“Oh it’s nothing, just some careful stitch work!”

“Do you take commissions?” you turn, and she flounders for a moment.

“Well– well I would, but I have so much to get done… I’m afraid I just don’t have the time.”

You grin and take her hands in your own.

“One commission from me, and you won’t have to get anything else done,” your eyes twinkle as you take in Winnie’s surprised expression.

Bucky drives you home, but you could have floated with how light the evening has made you feel. You almost forget how it all started.

“Becca likes you,” Bucky says, opening your door, and you shrug, taking his offered hand as you step out.

“Don’t worry, she’ll get to know me and get over it.”

Bucky shakes his head with a smile, and walks you up the front steps.

“Will you come up?” you ask, coyly, not quite wanting him to leave yet, still floating.

“I still need to thank you properly for saving me,” you purr, and Bucky’s breathing skips ever so slightly as you press your hand against his chest like earlier, but unlike then, this time when he takes your hand, he just holds it there, squeezing.

“Not tonight,” he says softly. You frown, stomach sinking a little, and you think for a moment that perhaps you really had screwed up everything in your life by waiting too long. Before you can speak however, Bucky pulls you near, leaning in until his lips delicately meet yours.

For a minute you freeze, memories of the afternoon flashing through your mind.

But Bucky wasn’t Andrew, and he’d never hurt you, so when your mind comes back to you seconds later, you sigh into him fully, wrapping your hand around the nape of his neck once more.

His own hands glide over your sides before he envelops you fully, curling you tenderly into him. Your heart thumps wildly in your chest, and you half expect him to change his mind, for his hands to start travelling, for him to push your door open and take you right there in the entryway of your home.

But he doesn’t.

He pulls away after a moment, ignoring your soft protests, but keeps you close, kissing your forehead.

“Goodnight, Miss Langley,” he says lowly, finally untangling from you, but only so he can lean past you, to unlock your door as you stare, utterly bewitched.

“G-goodnight, Mr Barnes…” you swallow thickly, reluctantly letting him pull away from your hold, and watching as he walks back to the car.

No man had ever just kissed you goodbye at the door.

No man but Bucky Barnes.

“Is this all?” Bucky asks, loading one last hat box into the trunk of the car, and you hum, pushing up off the front gate where you’d been watching him for the last ten minutes. He wipes a bead of sweat off his forehead and turns to look at you, hands on his hips, chest heaving.

“Yes. But we still need to stop on the way,” you inform him, and he moves in sync with you, opening the car door and helping you climb inside. Summer had officially begun, and you were on your way to the Hamptons, to stay in your family’s chateau for a few days.

And more importantly, to attend the Summer Soiree. Less of a celebration for the Summer, and more of an excuse for all you rich people to show off and get drunk while judging one another for various tresspasses.

Bucky gets in the driver’s seat and starts up the car.

“Where are we stopping?” He asks.

“Forster & Son. On fifth,” you inform him and watch as he gets the car in gear before pausing, looking at you in the mirror.

“Isn’t that a menswear store?”

“Yes. You can’t expect to go to a ball without a half decent suit, and you will absolutely not be wearing that,” you nod to his work uniform of a simple black suit. He turns around fully to stare at you.

“What?”

“Well, you can’t be my date and show up in anything less than Dior, but they don’t do tailoring on the day.”

“Your date? To a society event?” Bucky blinks and you roll your eyes.

“Yes, Bucky. Now go! We’re already running late!”

Bucky stares for another moment before he turns back around, exhaling sharply as he begins driving.

“Hmn, is there a more fitted jacket, Gertrude? I think we should be emphasising his figure more. It is such a nice one…” you wink at Bucky over the older woman’s shoulder, watching from your nearby seat as he stands stiffly up on the podium. Gerty hums her agreement and moves to pick a different jacket from a rack of hangars.

Bucky carefully removes the one he’s wearing, his eyes flickering back to you every so often. You’re almost certain he’s never been fawned or fussed over this much before, let alone in a designer shop.

“Here,” Gerty hands him the new coat and he slides it on gingerly.

“Oh, yes. Yes, yes, yes. That is perfect!” you breathe, standing and moving toward him.

“Gertrude? There’s a gentleman who would like to ask you about his tailoring…” the shop girl pokes her head into the mirrored room you stand in and the older woman excuses herself.

“S’okay?” Bucky asks, and you nod slowly, eyeing him up.

“Oh yes. I think this will do nicely…” you take his jacket and do the buttons up, never breaking his eye contact. From where he stands on the podium, you’re even shorter than usual, staring up at him from his bellybutton. You see him swallow thickly when you run your hands over his front, and then down his legs, and his eyes flicker to the door.

“Uh… Won’t she be back…”

“Not for a while… She’s being asked about tailoring, any man who has his suits tailored is thorough,” you purr, and lightly palm his cock through the designer pants. Bucky jumps, biting back a groan when you continue with harder strokes.

“Lilah…” he warns, and you look back at him innocently.

“Don’t you trust me?”

“Not in your goddamn—” his words choke off into a strained whine when you pull the pants apart, letting them fall to his ankles along with his briefs.

“Turn around,” you coo, and with an exasperated sigh, he shuffles to face the half circle of mirrors, arranged so customers could view themselves from multiple angles. You had a better idea for use of them though.

You slink around to his front and hum in approval, before you lean forward just slightly, resting your knees on the edge of the standee, taking his hips in your hands. With little fanfare, you take him in your mouth once again, eyes flickering up to his face where he looks down at you, jaw clenching.

It doesn’t take long to lick him to full hardness, and even less time for his hands to find your hair, careful not to mess it up.

“Shit, shit!” he cusses as you bob back and forth over his length, staring up at him as you do.

“Look at you, jesus, fuck!” his eyes trail to the multiple reflections of your in the mirrors, but his eyes are back on your face in seconds.

“You’re so perfect, Li, best thing in the world…”

You slow for a moment and pull all the way back, just to suck on the head of his cock, letting your tongue swirl in circles and he groans, head falling back a little.

“Jesus, Jesus! Come here!” 

You let him drag you back over his length again, but this time he leans over slightly, a hand gently wrapping around your throat and your eyes widen when he thrusts his hips forward. You can feel him feeling himself and it only makes you moan around him. Bucky hisses,  fucking your mouth quickly, in short, deep strokes that have your nose pressing to the base of his cock and your eyes watering.

“That’s it, can’t get anything on the suit, sweetheart, you gonna take it all?”

You whine again, and do your best to nod, staring up at him transfixed as he draws closer, until finally he’s cursing lowly, hips jerking him even further down your throat as you feel his release spill down you.

You remain like that for a moment, staring up at him as he groans quietly. He really was beautiful like this, you were lucky, really. His eyes open up to yours and he swallows, carefully pulling away from you, a hand coming to gently stroke your hair, and then the side of your face.

“You’re so beautiful.”

You’re about to roll your eyes and retort when a knocking on the door sees you yanking his pants up, both of you scurrying not to give poor Gertrude a show.

You buy the suit, and continue on to the Hamptons, and before you know it, you’re gazing upon Bucky once more in his lovely suit. You stay arm in arm with him all night, refusing to let him go, but if he minds or notices he doesn’t mention it, instead staying close by choice, his hand resting at the small of your back, his shimmying fingers sending shivers up and down your spine.

All night, when you’re met with so-called-friends and other acquaintances, you’re asked who Bucky is. Everyone knew everyone in New York, and they did not know Bucky. Every time you’re asked, you reply the same thing, and each time, it makes Bucky look at you softly, his hand squeezing your hip.

“And who might this be?”

“My handsome date for the evening; Bucky Barnes.”

“Oh, I don’t believe we’ve met, Bucky… are you visiting from Europe?”

“No. He’s from Brooklyn.”

And then you’d feign desperacy for a drink, and he’d usher you off again.

“You know, people are going to talk about you,” he says softly, a tiny frown on his face as you move to sit at a nearby table on the edge of the dancefloor.

“People are always talking about me,” you sip champagne and Buck’s eyes crinkle.

“Yeah, but—”

“Lilah! How pleasant to finally catch you!” Your mother’s voice cuts off Bucky’s words and the both of you stand stiffly as your parents approach.

“And here I was really trying my best to remain uncaught. I guess you win,” you deadpan, giving them both empty hugs and kisses. You move back to stand next to Bucky and your parent’s attention turns to him with varying degrees of visible dismay.

“Bucky,” your mother greets coldly, your father just as rigidly shaking his hand.

“Have you seen Andrew tonight, dear? Doesn’t he look handsome?”

You’d already had to stop Bucky from going over to the man when you’d arrived, so you stiffen a little when he’s mentioned, but simply turn your nose up.

“I thought he looked rather dated, actually.”

Your mother bristles and your father glares outright.

“So this is what you’re choosing?” he demands gruffly, displeasure clear in his voice. You square your shoulders, ignoring Bucky’s curious frown as you loop your arm though his.

“Yes.”

“I need a drink,” is all your father says, before he storms away, your mother eyeing you one final time, before she follows after him.

You breathe a sigh of relief, all your pent up anxiety leaving your body now. Bucky turns to you then, one hand on your arm, his other still around your back.

“What was that? What did you choose?”

You roll your eyes and wave him off, stepping to the side a little to grab more champagne, and you down it.

“A few weeks ago my father told me I was to marry Gorman or be cut off,” you reveal with a shrug. Bucky starts.

“What?!”

“Well what did they expect? Have I ever done what I’m told?” you huff, rolling your eyes. Before you can settle too comfortably into your nonchalance, Bucky brings your hand to his lips, his other curling around your waist once again.

“You do what I tell you,” he points out, and you scoff.

“That’s only because you don’t put up with me. Or maybe because you do, I haven’t fully figured it out yet. Either way, you put me in my place,” you shrug again, and he hums, pulling you closer so you’re forced to wrap your arms around his neck. He starts to sway you gently.

“Is that what you want? Someone to look after you? Put you in your place?” He sounds innocent enough, but he knows your body is lighting up, your core buzzing between your thighs at his words.

“Maybe… but only when it’s you,” you breathe out, and you’re about to close your eyes, his lips only a breathe from yours when—

“I hope I’m not interrupting?”

You pull apart with a certain amount of shock, looking to find your brother standing nearby, hands in his pockets as he gazes knowingly at you. You pull away from Bucky with a grin, jumping into the blonde’s arms.

“Steve!”

He catches you with both arms, holding you tightly for a moment.

“Lilah… you look beautiful,” Steve says when you’ve pulled away.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming home?!”

“It was kind of sudden… I’ll tell you about it later,” his face darkens just a little, but then he’s smiling, looking up to Bucky who stands behind you.

“Hi. Steve Rogers, Lilah’s half-brother,”

“The half doesn’t matter, ignore him,” you scold, watching as Bucky and Steve shake hands. You’d grown up with Steve, even if he’d been several years older than you, he’d never let you feel like just a ‘half’ sibling.

“Bucky Barnes. I uh—”

“–Bucky is my driver,” you say and Steve raises his eyebrows and whistles.

“I pity you,” Steve chortles, making you scoff and move back to Bucky’s side, watching as he shrugs.

“It has its moments,” Bucky shoots you a soppy grin as he places his hand back on your hip. You scoff again.

“Say, you like cars, Bucky?” Steve asks, and Bucky nods.

“I do.”

“Lemme get a drink, and I’ll tell you about this project I’m workin’ on in Paris…”

You sigh as you hang your dress up, moving to remove the last of the pins from your hair. It had been a long night, but not necessarily a bad one. After you returned home, you’d need to sit down and figure out exactly what you were going to do. Steve was home now though, you could always return to Paris with him… but you’d be leaving behind Bucky…

A wrapping at your window makes you jump, and in fright, you turn to stare at the curtains. It comes again a moment later, and you swallow, moving to them, and pushing the coverings apart, gasping when you do so. You hurry to unlock the shutter, and push it open.

“What the hell are you doing?! Your bedroom is down the hall!” you scold as Bucky climbs through, shutting and locking the window behind him.

“I’m not sorry,” he says, straightening up and you frown.

“You will be when you fall four stories to your dea—” your words die when he tugs you toward him, mouth slotting over yours hungrily. You don’t fight him, melting into his touch right away, having thirsted after it all night.

“You never answered me,” he says, lips dragging over your cheek, and down your neck. You sigh, clutching at his arms and tipping your head back to give him all the access he could want.

“W—what question…?” you manage, and squeak when your nightgown is pulled apart, and his lips move to your collarbone.

“You want someone to take care of you? You’re always begging for me to teach you a lesson, put you in your place…”

You stutter and pull back slightly to look at him. Bucky just stares, eyes intense on your face.

“... No.”

He freezes and you take his face in your hands before he can pull away.

“I don’t want someone, I only want you.”

Bucky stares down at you, disbelief flashing over his features and you shake your head.

“I’ve been terrible to you Bucky, nobody else would have come back again and again, I don’t— I don’t deserve you, I don’t,” you swallow harshly, a lump growing in your throat as you struggle through your words.

“And—and I’m so selfish, I am, but I want you. Not climbing through my window, or in the back of the car, I want to walk down the street with you, and hold your hand, and—”

“How much have you drunk?” Bucky puts a hand to your forehead, and you laugh, pushing at him when his eyes crinkle and he rests his head to yours.

“I chose you,” you say quietly, and he looks back at you nodding softly.

“Oh, sugar…”

You close your eyes as his lips find yours again, softer this time, sweeter.

You let him pull your gown apart fully, watching as he goes about discarding your underwear, before ridding himself of his own clothes, and laying you down on the plush sheets. Lips drag over your chest where he’d left off last, and you cradle his head in your hands as he moves further and further down, stopping at your breasts for a moment, sucking firmly at a nipple and making you gasp.

You'd never actually let him fully undress you, fully appreciate your body, and despite having had him inside you countless times, it all feels new.

“Li…”

“Mhmn?”

“M’gonna take care of you…” He murmurs against your stomach, and you nod, eyes closed now.

“Please, daddy…”

You gasp when your thighs are hoisted up, and look down to watch him situate himself between your legs, holding you under the knees. He leans low and presses a kiss to your core, making you suck in air quickly, your belly fluttering violently. He repeats the action, leaning over and pressing his lips to your folds, using his tongue to push and pull the silk skin and you grasp at his hands on your legs, shaking just slightly.

“Buck…”

“Mhmn?”

You growl and lift your head to glare at him.

“Hurry up!” You demand and he lifts a brow, leaning up.

“How quick you start mouthin’ off again,” he tuts, and you glare harder. He slides a hand from under your knee to where his mouth just was, and you swallow thickly as he dips a finger inside slowly, his eyes trained on yours. You’re frozen in place, even when he pulls out again, pushing two back in.

“Gonna have to learn to hold that tongue of yours sweetheart,” his voice is low and your eyes flutter when he adds another finger, pumping into you carefully.

“Or what?” you manage to gasp out and his fingers stop, but don’t leave you.

“Or I’ll have to find something better for your mouth to be doin’,” he tells you.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” you sass and Bucky sniffs.

“If I didn’t love you so much, I’d shove your face into this mattress so you couldn’t fuckin’ talk,” he growls, bringing his movements again, pressing his thumb to your clit and making you jerk.

“Please, you’ll do that if you do love me,” you gasp and you hear him chuckle warmly.

His mouth returns to your core, his fingers still working your hole as he flicks his tongue over your clit relentlessly. You have to remind yourself to stay somewhat quiet as you writhe under him, hands fisting in the sheets as you come, losing all sense of everything except his mouth on you.

“Jesus Christ, baby… fuck…” Bucky breathes, looking down at his fingers, still plunging into you as your muscles squeeze and contract.

You mewl when he crawls back up your body, fingers glistening with your cum and you open your mouth when he brings them to your lips.

“Good girl. That’s a good girl, sweetheart.”

You suck diligently, holding his eye contact until he looks away, taking himself in hand and judging your leg further open with his knee.

“Come on, darlin’, open up, there we go…” he coos, finally letting his fingers fall from your lips as he slides the head of his cock through your soaked folds.

“You gonna finally fuck me good and proper, daddy?” you ask, hooking a hand around his neck, watching him closely.

“You’re goddamn right I am,” he growls, pushing in deep and you choke for a moment as he fills you, not waiting for you to adjust. Your nails pinch his skin, and you swallow a cry when his hips meet yours. You lift your knees more, bring them up so you can wrap yourself around him.

He lowers his face to yours as he starts moving, his tongue seeking yours immediately and you tug at his hair slightly with each thrust that sends you reeling. Despite this though, you can’t help but stoke the fire.

“Come on daddy, I thought you said good and proper?” you whine, and Bucky leans up to look at you, his eyes narrowed.

“Sometimes I think you like pissing me off, honey.”

“You fuck better when you’re angry,” you say, almost regretting it when he stops moving all together just to stare at you a moment.

For a split second you think maybe you’ve gone too far, but then he’s snickering, and before you can register it, you’re roughly tossed over to your front.

“You’re such a fuckin’ brat,” he scolds, kneeing your thighs apart enough for him to slide back in and you cry out, but your face is pressed into the pillow, muffling it.

The angle is foreign, almost too right and too deep, almost painful, but that also sends shockwaves of delight down your spine.

“You’re gonna lie here and I’m going to fuck you. If I hear anything outta you…” he pressed the back of your neck and your face is engulfed in a pillow again.

“Got it?” you nod, cunt hot and throbbing at his words and you keen in response to his lips pressing to the back of your shoulder.

“That’s my good girl.”

You suck in air when his hips pull away from yours, pressing back in all too quickly, and you clench your jaw at the feeling. You wanted him so badly your pussy was already clutching on to him, and the position only further exaggerated the sensation of fullness, making you feel like if he pressed any further you’d come apart at the seams.

But you live for it, need it even, and so even after his warning, you babble for him cheekily, damn near weeping as his cock pounds into you, and Bucky growls, playing his part dutifully and shoving your face into the pillow.

“I thought I told you—” he grunts as he shifts his knee, allowing him better access and you squeal into the pillow, his cock sinking even further and your back arches.

“—I didn’t wanna hear a fuckin’ word.”

You’re caught off guard when his hand releases the back of your neck and instead slides around to the front, lifting your face from the pillows. It’s just as effective though, his fingers squeezing at your throat cut off anything you have to say, and you choke. He lessens his grip after a moment, allowing you a few short breaths before he’s clamping down again and you wheeze out a moan.

“You like that don’t you, sweetheart? Like when I’m rough with you? Want me to put you in your place, don’t you, sugar?”

You nod the best you can, and gasp when he lets you breathe again.

“Please, Buck, please…” You sob, everything so good at once is too much, but you want more.

“I should just gag you next time. Tie you to the bed and gag you. Fuck you senseless and leave your cunt dripping in my cum, yeah? Would you like that?”

You don’t have to reply, your pussy convulsing around him and your body quivering slightly as he lets you don’t to the pillow again are answers enough. Bucky smooths a hand over the back of your head, cooing as you shake under him, clutching the pillow as you steadily release short, choked moans.

“That’s it, good girl, there we go darlin’...” his voice is softer now, and he pulls out of you, turning you to your side gently, hooking your thigh over his leg, he pushes back into you.

He holds you closer, presses his lips to yours as you reach out for him, anchoring yourself around his neck. He still fucks you hard, relishes in the continued sounds you make, your lips roaming his neck as you catch your breathe again. He clutches your backside firmly, pressing as far into you as he can with each thrust and steadily he feels his own pleasure rise.

“You’re so sweet, Li, you feel so fuckin’ good,” he murmurs, hearing you mewl under him, where your lips are sucking at the place under his jaw.

“Wanna make you feel good, daddy…” you coo, and Bucky grunts, going slow and deep again.

“Gonna let me cum inside you? Lemme fill you up?” he isn’t quite expecting you to moan so headily in response, but he certainly isn’t expecting you to push him to his back, your legs falling around his thighs as you start bouncing up and down on his cock enthusiastically.

“Come on daddy, please…”

Bucky doesn’t need to be asked twice, not when you’re begging for it like you are, so he grips your hips in his hands, curling his own up into you until he’s gasping, sucking in air sharply as his head lolls back.

“Lilah… Fuck… Sweetheart…” Anything else he has to say is drowned out by the pulses of pleasure that wash over him, and he holds you firmly in place as he empties inside you, groaning when he feels you grind down on him more.

After a moment you fall forward to rest against him, and Bucky wraps his arms around your back, holding you tightly.

“I love you,” you mumble against his chest, and Bucky chuckles, lifting your chin so you look at him.

“I love you too.”

You smile happily, and blink away any tears that might spring to your eyes, resting your head back against his collarbone and you sigh contently.

“Also, I forgot to tell you, you’re fired,”

Bucky starts for a moment, before he relaxes and huffs.

“How does it feel to be poor, hmm?”

You whack him in the chest, and he laughs, holding you tightly as he rolls you over, lips meeting yours once again, and he continues to make love to you until the early hours of the morning.

“Oh, I’m useless! The only thing you’ll be able to use me for is dying the fabric red!” You exclaim in frustration, tossing the needle and thread down on the table in front of you.

“We’d have to bleed you more than a pin-prick for that, dear,” Winnie looks at you over her glasses and you glare.

“You’ll get the hang of it. You don’t have to be an expert overnight.”

Your frustration soothes with her words and you sigh.

“I feel so useless that I can’t help more,” you say softly and she chortles.

“You spend until the late evenings with your nose in that sketch pad, dreaming up new designs and you think that’s useless!” She continues to laugh and you shake your head.

“I’m going to put the kettle on. Would you like a cup?” Winnie hums in approval and you make your way from the workroom to the mezzanine office, setting the hot water to boil and staring blankly into your empty mug.

How your life had turned from exuberant parties and a life of excess, to hard work and a day job you had no idea.

Well you did. It had started with a business idea.

Your brother had invested initially, and you had begged Winnie and Becca to join you. In two years you had turned nothing into something, and now you were sitting on your very own relatively large pile of money.

You designed the dresses with clients, and Becca and Winnie would make them. It was simple, but had proved wildly successful. You’d even sent Becca to Paris with a collection of prêt-à-porter designs a Parisian boutique had been interested in selling. She’d come home speaking broken French and sighing dreamily and you were thinking perhaps you might need to set up a boutique over there yourself…

You’re pulled from your thoughts by a bouquet of lilacs that suddenly crowd your vision and you jump, spinning around.

“Bucky! Don’t scare me like that!”

He chuckles, and you take the flowers, smelling them briefly before placing them on the desk.

“Nothin’ scary about some lilacs for my Lilah,” he grins, leaning in to chastely kiss your lips. You roll your eyes but let him pull you into the kiss anyway.

“You have… grease all over you! Don’t you touch a damn thing in my shop!” You warn him, but he only runs his hands over your sides, stopping to squeeze your waist, thoroughly ruining your frock.

“Only thing I wanna touch is right here…”

You shake your head and sigh.

“Have you been having fun, grease monkey? Steve’s not bored you to death yet?”

Bucky smiles and hums.

“No, not yet. Besides, you know how he is, he gets so excited you don’t even realise he’s getting you excited about oil pumps or what have you…”

You chuckle and smooth your hands over his chest, cocking your head when he stays quiet for a moment longer.

“What?” you demand and Bucky sighs.

“Your brother wants to go to Italy… we’ve been invited to look at a new type of engine over there. It might be good for the company to invest…”

You frown and purse your lips.

“How long?”

“He says a couple of weeks but…”

“No!” You say, unwilling to live without him for so long.

“That’s unacceptable!”

“Come with me,” Bucky shrugs, knowing you were all dramatics and no pragmatics.

“I can’t. We’re moving into the Summer, and all our regular clients have me booked out for the next three months!”

“Let Becca take the meetings… you know she’s been shadowing you for ages, you’ve been saying yourself you think she could start consulting.”

You bite your lip.

“Maybe a short holiday might be nice… Italy, you said?”

“Sicily,” he adds and you sigh.

“I love Sicily…!” you whine, and Bucky leans in closer, bumping his nose with yours.

“Come with me. We’ll find a little cottage to stay in, you can take a break… maybe I’ll come home at midday and find you strolling around fully nude, just waiting for me, and I’ll kiss you stupid and—” despite his silly fantasy, you’re enthralled with the idea right up until Winnie meanders past the both of you.

“—and you can finally give me some grandchildren?” She asks as she makes her own cup of tea that you’d forgotten.

Bucky’s face turns bright red and you chortle, patting his chest.

“We’re working on it, aren’t we?” you grin at Bucky’s deepening shade.

“Well, work a little harder, won’t you?”

Bucky shakes his head as his mother disappears with her tea out the door and turns back to you.

“Whaddya say?”

“Well, we can’t let the old lady down,” you sigh dramatically once again and Bucky nods, his face drawn into faux seriousness.

“I promise you, come to Italy with me, and I’ll make sure we don’t.”

You laugh at that, head tilting back as Bucky grins mischievously.

When you sober again, you caress his cheek softly, and Bucky takes your hand, bringing it to his lips and kissing the small, simple wedding ring on your finger.

“Alright, Uptown Boy. I’ll come.”

[chiefduckgarden]

Can't forget about you.

Wanda Maximoff x reader

Summary: You wake up in a hospital room knowing nothing about yourself. No name, no age, no family. You can't remember anything. Except for one thing. One person. Her.

Words: 1816

A/N: Soo this is the first chapter of my first series, the summary sucks but i hope you like it! Also thanks for your follows, I really appreciate your comments and reblogs! Still figuring out this app but thank you!

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Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1 / CHAPTER 2

First thing you see: Black.

Your eyes are closed and slowly you regain consciousness. The sounds around you start to pound in your head. A very high-pitched, rhythmic beep and multiple voices a little far away.

You open your eyes but the light is too bright and makes you shut them again. The beep sound starts to sound faster.

Your throat is dry and your hands and legs feel numb. You make another try on open your eyes slower this time. A blurry figure is in front of you, it seems to move but you can't focus your vision to see who it is. You groan and the person in front of your notice your awakening.

- Oh God! - you hear them say - Your awake - You seem to notice is a feminine voice.

You can see more clearly now and you move your head to see your surroundings. It's all white and you notice some machines around you.

- Are you feeling okay? Let me go get the doctor, don't worry I'll be right back.

Without saying anything more the woman un front of you leaves the room and you blink a couple of times to final focus your sight.

You clear your throat and cough a little of how dry your mouth is. Finally, catching what the woman just said, you realize what is that place. Let me go get the doctor.

You're in a hospital.

In that moment a man in a white coat enters the room and walks straight to you.

- Hello young lady, I'm doctor Simon DeLuca - he says gently - Right now I'm the doctor in charge of you and I'm going to make some questions and test to validate your health state okay? - he questions but you're confuse about it - Please just nod if you can understand what I just said - the doctor tries again and this time you nod in affirmation - Good - he answers and gives you a smile.

The nurse on your rigth begins to check on an iPad and answers what the doctor ask her about: your vital signs, your blood pressure and oxygen.

- Okay miss, I'm going to check on your eyes to see that everything is functioning normal okay - he says and you nod again - Can you tell me what is your name? - he asks as you follow a ligth in front of you.

You try to think about it but all in your mind is black. You want to answer but you can't seem to remember anything. Not even you're name.

- No - you finally say and the doctor stops for a second.

- You can't remember it? - he asks again.

You shake your head and he takes a deep breath.

- Okay, now please open your right hand - he request and you obey.

- Water, can I have some water? - you say softly.

- Yeah sure, Lilah bring some water and food, and did you call Mr. Stark? - he talks to the nurse.

- Yes, he's on his way - she says.

- Great, thanks.

Doctor DeLuca asks you to do some more test and you can even take some steps.

- Can you remember how you ended up here? - he asks you but can't answer.

- No doctor.

- Can you tell me if you have any family, your mom, your dad or perhaps a brother or sister?

You're start to feel irritated with the questions. You can't remember anything before waking up, not even your own face.

- No doctor.

He stares at you for a second before getting interrupted by a knock on the door.

- Dr. DeLuca Mr. Stark is here along with Mr. Stephen Strange and Mr. Steve Rogers - the nurse says and three men walk in the room.

- Good afternoon gentlemen - the doctor speaks standing to shake hands with the men - As you can see, we have some news for you and your team.

- Good afternoon doctor - the blonde man says - Thanks for calling.

- It's my duty Captain, but before you talk with her I want to talk with you first, about her health condition.

The three men accept and they walk out.

- I'll be right back, eat something please - Dr. DeLuca says and you nod.

The nurse brings you food and she stays with you while you eat.

- Excuse but who are they? - you ask her.

- Well you'll find it out soon, but they are here for you - she says handing you the Jell-O on the tray.

You nod and just eat. Your mind is empty but a total mess at the same time. You want to remember something but nothing pops out. When you try harder you kind of can see something. Someone. The face is blurry but the red hair of that person comes to your mind.

- When you finish your juice please take this pills, okay? - the nurse says and you nod.

After some minutes Dr. DeLuca is back along the men and the nurse smiles at you one last time before taking your tray of food and walk out the room.

- How are you feeling? - the doctor asks.

- I'm fine, thank you - you answer and he nods.

- I want to introduce you some people, they are here for you, because they care about you - the doctor tells you and he points to the men in front of you.

A tall man with black hair with white stripes on each side, a blonde tall one and a shorter man with blackish hair and sunglasses.

- They are Mr. Stephen Strange, Mr. Steve Rogers and Mr. Tony Stark

You wave at them and they wave back at you except for Mr. Stephen Strange, who just stares at you.

- Excuse me but, who are you? - you ask shyly.

The men look at each other and then at the doctor.

- They are here because they brought you here a few days ago - he says.

You feel a little relieved hearing that.

- Are you my family? - you ask again but the sudden change on their faces worries you.

The blonde man clears his throat and he walks to your side.

- No, we're not, but we know you Y/N - he says.

Y/N. Is that your name?

He notices your confusion and talks again.

- Your name is Y/N - he says - You can call me Steve.

You don't know him but you can instantly feel trust towards him. He seems nice.

- Thanks Steve - you say - My name is Y/N... Y/N - you speak out loud - Do you know who am I? - you ask Steve, but he looks up to the other men.

Dr. DeLuca gets in the conversation.

- Listen Y/N, these men brought you here four days ago because you had an accident and fell in a coma. This is the New York Hospital and I'm Doctor DeLuca. I've been taking care of your case and keeping these people updated. Besides your first name they know nothing about you either and they are here today because they want to know more about who you are - he explains.

Wow. That was a lot to process.

- So you just know my name? What kind of accident did a have?

- Well that's a conversation we can have in another moment, we'd like to know about you, actually - now the man with the sunglasses tells you - Oh you can call me Tony by the way - taking off his glasses he smiles at you.

- Thanks Tony but I don't think i can tell you much about me, I can't remember anything - you say

- Yeah we know, Dr. DeLuca told us but we were expecting that by now you could've, maybe... You know, remembered something - he says

You look at him and then think about the red hair you remember. Maybe you should tell him.

- No pressure Y/N, we just want to help - Steve says.

- Well, actually, before you walked into the room again I saw something in my mind - you tell them.

- Okay, what did you saw? - Dr. DeLuca asks.

You keep silence for a second.

- Well, it's more like someone. The face is blurry but it looks like a woman, with red hair - you say and everybody seems to hold their breath.

- A redhead? - Mr. Stephen Strange talks suddenly after being in complete silence - What else did you saw?

You feel intimidate, he looks angry.

- Strange - Rogers says - Give her some space.

- She's talking now, this process needs to be quick Captain - he responds severely.

- What process? - you ask scared, that man wasn't like Rogers at all.

Strange gives you one last glance before going back to the corner he was before talking.

- Don't care about that, it's just a term, now why don't you tell me more about that redhead you remember - Steve tells you.

You doubt about saying more, even though Steve and Tony look friendly Mr. Strange looks angry.

- Y/N, know that these men are trustful and they are here only to help you - Dr. DeLuca says.

You hesitate a bit more but begin to speak again.

- Well I don't know who this woman is but her presence it's the only thing remember, the only thing I get to see whenever i look inside my mind - you tell them.

- Wanda - Tony says in a whisper.

- Tony! - Steve scolds him and Stark covers his mouth with his hands.

- Sorry, sorry, I didn't mean to... Sorry - he apologizes.

But your mind...

Wanda Maximoff

Your head completes the name that slips out the man mouth.

- Wanda Maximoff - you say without thinking.

Everyone looks at you astonished.

- Do you remember who Wanda Maximoff is? - Strange talks to you again.

You shake your head.

- No, no but the name popped on my head - you say, your breathing is becoming heavier, it's kind of difficult to breath properly for you now.

Strange sighs frustrated.

- Do you know who she is? - you now ask them, your voice is shaking.

They don't answer for a couple of seconds and Dr. DeLuca takes the word.

- Y/N, the name Wanda Maximoff, does it tell you something about the girl? Like, something else besides her hair?

The beep on the monitor starts to sound faster. Your pulse is racing. Your head is spinning and images of the girl appear in your mind.

She has green eyes, now you can see it. You notice her smile, she smiles at you. A laugh echoes in your ear.

Y/N...

Her voice.

- Okay, please breath Y/N, calm down - Dr. DeLuca says - You need to breath.

- I can't - you say crying. You're having a panic attack.

- Maybe we should call Wanda - Tony says to the other two men.

- No Tony, she's is the one responsible for this, we can't let her get close to Y/N - Strange tells him firmly.

- Gentlemen, please, don't argue now - Dr. DeLuca says.

You stop hearing your surroundings after that and your sight becomes blurry again. The last thing you see is the nurse coming inside the room and the doctor putting the oxygen mask on you, but you faint.

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[wild-lavender-rose]

Kiss You Better

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Category: One-shot

Summary: Your best friend Steve comforts you after your breakup. 

Warning: Language, making out

     “What are you doing, the game’s about to start,” Steve’s voice died as he took in your appearance, wet mascara, sitting on the school bathroom floor leaning back against the wall, hugging your knees to your chest. “What happened?”

    “Go away, Harrington.” You wiped your eyes on the sleeve of your newly ex boyfriend’s jacket. “I can’t deal with you right now.”

    “Is it Derek?” Steve closed the door behind him, checking to make sure you were alone. “You said you were going to ask him about last weekend.”

    “Shit.” You squeezed your eyes shut as another wave of tears washed over you. “Shit, shit, shit.”

    “Oh god,” Steve groaned.

    You didn’t resist when he came to sit beside you, his shoulder pressed against yours a welcome sensation. It had been so long since Derek had touched you. Weeks, months even. You should have seen it coming. You were just the girl he could take to family events, the future trophy wife for after graduation when he went off to law school. You didn’t want to believe that he was bored with you. Didn’t want to see the way his eyes wandered.

    “Who is it?” Steve asked, voice soft as he looked at you. “Lilah?”

    “Lilah, Jane, Mary, Beth,” you covered your face with your hands. “I’m such an idiot.”

    “No you’re not. He’s the idiot.” Steve grimaced. “Here, let’s get this off.”

    You wiped at your eyes again, allowing him to touch you, to slide his hands down your shoulders as he pushed the jacket off and threw it aside. “What the,” he touched your chin, shifting your head to see the faint bruise beginning to form on your cheek. “Did he do this to you, baby?”

    Your heart flipped at the pet name. “Yeah, he didn’t, he just, wanted me to be quiet,”

    “I’m going to kill him.”

    “Steve, shut up.” You put your hand over the one touching your face and pretended that the feel didn’t make your insides melt. “Go watch the game, I’ll be fine.”

    “You shut up, cause I’m not leaving.” Steve’s eyes searched yours, his touch featherlight. “I’m not leaving you.”

    A tear ran down your cheek. “Steve,” you breathed.

    “Shh, it’s okay. You’re okay.” He wiped the tear away. “We’ll figure this out, okay? I’ve got you.”

    “Steve, please,” you choked back a sob as you forced yourself to push his hand away, hiding your face against your knees. “Don’t hurt me like that, please, not now. I, I can’t take it.”

    “Baby, I’m just trying to help.”

    “No, you can’t,” you closed your eyes tight, voicing the thought you’ve kept in your head ever since middle school. “Don’t pretend to care about me like that when you don’t.”

    Steve was silent for a moment, giving you all the time in eternity to regret saying anything. He was going to get up and leave. He was going to pretend like nothing happened so that you could go back to hanging out like the best friends you were and always had been. And always would be. You would go back to aching for him, aching for anyone. God, that was how you started dating Derek. Just a distraction from the pain of silently loving Steve.

    “Look at me.” He whispered.

    You shook your head.

    “Look at me, baby, please.” Steve touched your knee, the contact combined with his begging enough to make your thoughts spin. “Come on, baby, I want to see you.”

    You lifted your head. “I don’t see how that’s going to-,”

    Steve cut you off with a kiss, so deep and hot and consuming that you whimpered against him. His hands were on you, sliding around your back, your waist. You closed your eyes and fell into the sensation, hand running up his chest and tangling in his hair. Steve moved you easily, pulling you closer. He knew how to kiss. Knew how to angle his head and move his lips in such a way that had you craving more. Craving to belong to him.

    Desperation took over your judgement, whimpering again when he broke for breath, chasing his lips so he could consume you again. “Steve,”

    “I’ve got you.” He met your mouth eagerly, breath stuttered in his chest, his grip tightening.

    You moaned when his tongue entered your mouth, reality fading as you pulled at his shirt to bring him closer. Steve’s hand came up to hold your cheek, caressing the bruise as he kissed you better. Kissed you brand new again. You felt something like pain when he pulled back for air again, hair falling in his eyes as he leaned back against the wall. “How, how long have, have you wanted to do that?”

    “Kindergarten.”

    He laughed. “I ate bugs in kindergarten.”

    “I like bugs.” You shrugged, laughing when Steve rolled his eyes.

    “You would, wouldn’t you?” Steve tried to look grossed out but was grinning too much to be successful. “Here, come with me,”

    “To the game?” You looked up as he got to his feet and held his hand out to you.

    “To get ice cream.” Steve pulled you up easily, his hand staying interlocked with yours.

    You blushed and smiled. “I really like you, Harrington.”

    He smirked, leaning forward to kiss your head. “I love you too.” 

Fanfic Masterlist

[ao3feed-daredevil]

The Apocalypse is here

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/3A5YRNS

by Aragorn_II_Elessar

The Avengers, Scooby Gang, Team Angel, X-Men, Defenders, Agents of SHIELD and various other heroes unite to battle their most dangerous and powerful foe yet, while meeting allies and enemies old and new, with faces familiar and unfamiliar. The grand finale of 'Spider, Slayer, Vampires and Avengers'.

Words: 1634, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Series: Part 8 of Spider, Slayer, Vampires and Avengers

Fandoms: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV), Angel: the Series, Daredevil (TV), Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), X-Men (Original Timeline Movies), The Defenders (Marvel TV), Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: F/F, F/M

Characters: Peter Parker, Matt Murdock, Faith Lehane, Buffy Summers, Dawn Summers, Angel (BtVS), Spike (BtVS), Cordelia Chase, Willow Rosenberg, Tara Maclay, Rupert Giles, Steve Rogers, Thor (Marvel), Tony Stark, Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Clint Barton, Bruce Banner, James "Bucky" Barnes, Sam Wilson (Marvel), Logan (X-Men), Ororo Munroe, Stephen Strange, Lilah Morgan, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce, Lorne | Krevlornswath, Winifred "Fred" Burkle, Illyria (AtS), Felicia Hardy, Charles Gunn, Agents of SHIELD Team, May Parker (Spider-Man)

Relationships: Faith Lehane/Matt Murdock, Peter Parker/Dawn Summers, Angel (BtVS)/Cordelia Chase, Tara Maclay/Willow Rosenberg, Spike/Buffy Summers, Lilah Morgan/Wesley Wyndam-Pryce, Steve Rogers/Winifred "Fred" Burkle, Steve Rogers/Illyria (AtS), Steve Rogers/Winifred "Fred" Burkle/Illyria (AtS), James "Bucky" Barnes/Natasha Romanov

Additional Tags: Sequel, Epic Battles, Friendship, Romance, Tragedy, Tara Maclay Lives, Doppelganger, Multiverse

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/3A5YRNS

[uncomicmas]

Nuevas portadas alternas de MARVEL'S VOICES: PRIDE # 1 el 23 de junio Marvel Comics se enorgullece de honrar el Mes del Orgullo con MARVEL'S VOICES: PRIDE # 1, una celebración de personajes y creadores LGBTQ +, y algunos de los mejores artistas de la industria se unirán a la celebración con impresionantes portadas alternas para este histórico one-shot que destaca a algunas de las estrellas LGBTQ + actuales de Marvel. Karolina Dean y Nico Minoru de Runaways comparten un beso en una hermosa portada del artista insignia de la pareja, Kris Anka. Iceman, actualmente miembro del equipo marinero de X-Men en Marauders, se congela en una pieza de Russell Dauterman. Karma disfruta de un raro momento de inactividad debido a sus desventuras en New Mutants en la vibrante portada de Ernanda Souza. Y el aclamado artista Jeffrey Veregge representa a Northstar, el primer héroe gay de Marvel y líder del equipo de investigadores mutantes de Krakoa en X-Factor y la próxima serie Trial of Magneto, en su icónico estilo Formline. MARVEL'S VOICES: PRIDE # 1 (APR210808) Escrito por KIERON GILLEN, ALLAN HEINBERG, ANTHONY OLIVEIRA, STEVE ORLANDO, TINI HOWARD, LEAH WILLIAMS, MARIKO TAMAKI, TERRY BLAS, CRYSTAL FRASIER, VITA AYALA, J.J. KIRBY, LUCIANO VECCHIO Y LILAH STURGES Arte de JAVIER GARRÓN, JIM CHEUNG, KRIS ANKA, JEN HICKMAN, PAULINA GANUCHEAU, JETHRO MORALES, BRITNEY WILLIAMS, J.J. KIRBY, LUCIANO VECCHIO, JAN BAZALDUA, PAULINA GANUCHEAU, DEREK CHARM, CLAUDIA AGUIRRE, JOANNA ESTEP, JACOPO CAMAGNI & SAMANTHA DODGE Portada variante de KRIS ANKA (APR210810) Portada variante de RUSSELL DAUTERMAN con colores de MATTHEW WILSON (APR210811) Portada variante de ERNANDA SOUZA (APR210813) Portada variante de JEFFREY VEREGGE (APR210812) Fuente @marvel #pridemonth #gay #rainbow #love #makeup #pride2019 #art #instagay #lgbtq #lgbt #bisexual #pansexual #transgender #lesbian #queer #pride #loveislove #trans #gaypride #equality #lovewins #asexual #lgbtpride #genderfluid #marvel #avengers #captainamerica #marvelcomics #spiderman #ironman https://www.instagram.com/p/CPKItC_nCcU/?utm_medium=tumblr

[lostinaseaoffictionalbliss]

Every Rose Has Its Thorn Part 1

A/N: This is the first part in the series. I’m not sure how many parts it will be yet, but a new part will come out every Sunday. I don’t have a taglist for this yet, but if you wish to be tagged in just this or be on my forever tags just send me an ask

Summary: Lilah is an agent of SHIELD. For years she’s had powers that only a select few knows how she came by. She’s had them under control for sometime. But there’s something about the blue-eyed captain that makes them go crazy and pulls her in. Just what is their connection and what will come of it?

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OC

Warnings: Some language. Nothing major.

Possible future warnings: violence, torture, maybe smut(it’s like I can’t avoid it when it comes to a series)

Word Count: 1131

Pain. White hot, blinding, intense pain. Every nerve was on fire. It felt like my skin was literally going to melt off my bones. It was such a bone deep, throbbing searing pain. And it was all I felt. I wanted to scream and cry, but my throat was raw and my eyes drier than the desert. I honestly felt like I was dying and at this point I would have welcomed death. Anything to make this stop.

But I couldn’t. There was something I had to do. Something I had to finish. I wasn’t entirely sure what it was at this point because my brain was fuzzy from the pain. I tried to think and figure it out. Remember what had led up to this point. What was it I was supposed to be doing?

“Lilah? Lilah do you come in?” There was a faint voice in my ear. Someone was calling my name...or at least I thought that was what was happening. My ears were ringing and I could only just make out the worried tone coming through my earpiece. That’s when everything started to come back. But I couldn’t move and I didn’t have the strength to answer the person who was now screaming in my ear.

Right. Left. Duck. Haymaker. Right. Left. Dodge. Right. Left. Uppercut.

Shadow boxing was one of my favorite workouts. It got the heart racing, worked the muscles, and helped me stay on top of my game. While kickboxing wasn’t the only tool in my tactical belt it did come in handy. Especially when I was trying to be more covert and not let people know about my powers.

Nick Fury had managed to find me after a few slip ups taking out some neighborhood criminals. I apparently wasn’t flying as well under the radar as I thought, but it didn’t matter. Now I had a good paying job as a shield agent. I had high security clearance. I was trusted and best of all I was getting to do what I wanted...take down bullies.

“Agent Shaw...a moment.”

I pulled my headphones out and turned to Nick. “Yes, Director Fury?”

Nick crossed his arms and sighed heavily. “We need...I need you to speak to Captain Rogers. If anyone can get him to come in it’ll be you.”

I frowned. “Me?Why me?" I grabbed my water bottle and took a big gulp. “If you don’t mind me asking, Sir.”

He gave that smile, the one that says he knows more than he’s letting on. “Because you both grew up in the same town and you both hate bullies.”

“As you say Sir.” I sat the water bottle down and took the file he was holding out. I flipped through it and hummed. I knew what he was proposing...the Avengers initiative. I had only agreed to join it if he actually went through with it. And now it seemed he was. All because of the Tesseract.

From the moment they had found that stupid thing I thought they were making a mistake. It was clearly not from our planet, it had way too much power, Hydra had used it to make weapons, and SHIELD assumed they could control it. I had called bullshit, but no one listened to me. That was a mistake. The thing had acted up and was now in the hands of Loki.

The man had killed so many members of SHIELD. People I considered friends. The building holding the Tesseract had disappeared. It was gone and the man responsible had taken someone I considered family. Clint had been compromised and I wanted him back. Just as I knew Natasha would want him back.

We had to pull out the big guns on this one. And by big guns I meant Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Bruce Banner, and myself. No doubt Natasha would join us to get Clint back and while she had a unique set of skills she was still human. She didn’t have a suit like Tony, didn’t turn into another person like Bruce, didn’t have super soldier serum like Steve, and she definitely couldn’t do what I did. But she would be a good addition to the team if we could get everyone together.

I grabbed my gym bag and headed home. Before going to Steve, I was taking a shower and thinking this over. I needed to say the right thing to get him to agree. He had been through a tragic ordeal and Fury wasn’t exactly giving the guy a chance to adjust.

Steve had only been awake for a short time. For him mentally he was still back in the 40s, in the war. He was most likely still having nightmares and flashbacks. Personally I thought the poor guy should be left alone for a bit longer. However it wasn’t my call and the only thing I could do is tread lightly and hope that I didn’t say the wrong thing.

As hot water poured over my body I looked up at the ceiling. Fury thought I was the right one to do this, that I was like Steve. But the way he had said it, that smile on his face made me think there was more to this. Yeah, I had grown up in the same city, hated bullies, got in more fights than I could count before even graduating high school, but what else was there?

Was he talking about the fact that Steve and I were both stronger than the average person, that we both had a strong moral sense of right and wrong? I groaned and started washing my hair. I was too tired to try and figure out Fury’s cryptic messages. Besides I had my own problems to worry about.

I finished my shower and headed to the gym I knew Steve would be at as quick as I could. I could hear the tale-tell thump, thump, thump of someone hitting a punching bag before I even took two steps into the place. I watched for a moment as sand went flying through the air. The punching bag was destroyed.

Steve hung another one and went back to hitting it. He was so tense and into beating the bag that it was obvious to anyone with half a brain that he was working through something. I felt bad for disturbing him, but orders were orders.

“Steve...I’m sorry to bother you. I’m Agent Shaw. I was hoping we could talk for a moment.”

My breath caught in my throat as the most dazzling pair of blue eyes I had ever seen locked with my hazel. I was in trouble and I knew it. What I didn’t know was what kind of trouble or how much.

[lovealexhunt]

Everything I write for...

🖤 Recent Fics: April - June 2024 🖤

Blog: @theartoflovingthomashunt​​

☆ Red Carpet Diaries Universe

☆ Baby Hunt     Red Carpet Diaries Universe : Twins — Felicity & Vincent

☆ The Bogart Diaries      Red Carpet Diaries Universe: The Hunts get a puppy

☆ Hollywood U Universe

☆ Love & Scotch : a Hollywood U/Open Heart Crossover      featuring Ethan Ramsey (and OH!MC Ellie Shepherd)

☆ #HollywoodHacks : a Hollywood U/#LoveHacks Crossover      featuring Ben Park

Blog: @storyofmychoices​​

☆ Beckett Harrington & Emma Carlyle 

☆ Bryce Lahela & Olivia Hadley 

☆ Ethan Ramsey & Ellie Shepherd     These stories are companion pieces to the Love and Scotch series 

☆ Justin Mercado & Mari Bishop

☆ Levi Schuler & Laura Day

☆ Mal Volari & Daenarya + The Orphanage Series

☆ Troy Hassan & Astraea Callen

☆ Trystan Thorne x Lilah Rose

☆ The Unexpected Heiress (VIP book)

☆ Assorted Characters >> ( King Liam & EmoDrake) , (ROE Bartender x MC), (Thomas Mendez x MC)     Writing that does not have it’s own masterlist

Blog: @loveofafangirl​ 

☆ Steve Rogers / Captain America (Marvel)

☆ Baron Zemo (Marvel)

☆ Laszlo Kreizler (The Alienist)

☆ Masterlist of everything I’ve commissioned or been gifted

     This includes art posted on both blogs above

☆ Masterlist of all the things I’ve attempted to draw

Drabble Series (I’ll make a title card eventually)

Just Because: Forehead Kisses

A Hand to Hold 

Mental Health Matters

a masterlist of various mental health and social emotional wellbeing posts

Other Things

Birthday 2021

Birthday 2022

CFWC Writer of the Month: March2022 (me!)

CFWC MC/OC of the Month: May2023: Daenarya!

[amandaoftherosemire]

Bulletproof -- Part Thirteen

Fandom: Marvel/College AU

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Reader, Platonic!Steve Rogers x Reader

Characters: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers

Author: @amandaoftherosemire​

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 5,147

Format: Series (Complete)

Warnings: Smut, NSFW, 18+ only, fluff.

Summary: You and Bucky end up back in bed, but you talk, too.

A/N: More communication! Considering how many people loved the little bit that was in the last chapter, y’all are gonna like this. We’re heading towards the end of the story now, but I’ve still got a few loose ends to tie up, so expect more fluff in the meantime. It’s the least I can do after all the angst in the beginning.

Banner by @hellzzzbelle

Part Twelve here

 Part Thirteen

You were lost in a world of soft touches and even softer sighs. Bucky's bed had become a golden paradise where you were the center of the universe. At least, he was making you feel like you were, like the world had become a place where Bucky's heart had run away with him. He was currently worshipping the back of your neck and shoulders with his lips as his fingers traced gentle adorations along your spine. But it was the words he was whispering against your skin that made you tremble.

You'd already ridden you both to a swift but joyous climax in the recliner, fully clothed, underwear merely pushed to the side. You'd hardly caught your breath before Bucky was scooping you up and carrying you to his bedroom. Once he'd deposited you in his bed and locked the door, he went about beginning the job of slowly making love to you.

You were still mostly wearing your dress because after Bucky had unzipped you, he'd stopped you from rolling back over, spreading the fabric wide to press his lips to the skin he'd bared. He wanted to take his time, savor everything as he started making all of the promises he’d been saving for you. He could give them to you now; he was almost sure you'd accept them.

"You have the softest skin, babygirl," he murmured as his lips sent goosebumps rippling out from where he was speaking against the nape of your neck. "It haunts my dreams." His voice was warm with appreciation, making it clear he didn't mind. "You don't need to worry about anyone or anything, y/n, least of all Lilah Robbins." He scoffed a little. "I can't even see anyone but you."

He pressed soft, generous open-mouthed kisses along the back of your shoulders and the nape of your neck and damned if you knew why it was sending shivers down your spine to your clenching core. His hand, however, was traveling up the backs of your thighs and under your skirt.

"Bug." You said it firmly, almost swept away in the velvet of his voice, the promise in his tone, and needing to get some things clear before you got distracted by how sexy he was, again. You rolled to your back to find him looking surprised and worried. "Steve and I gossip about you."

His face relaxed into an unsurprised half-smile. "And Steve and I gossip about you," he retorted, leaning over you, braced on his metal arm under your neck, his other hand sliding up to your neck to tug at the bodice of your dress. "Water is wet, fire is hot. Your point?"

You crossed your arms to stop the dress from going any further, but Bucky seemed content to trace the curve of your collarbone with the tips of his fingers for the moment. As a matter of fact, he was. He’d never be able to explain his thing for your shoulders, aside from he simply thought they were pretty, but that didn’t change the fact that he had one.

"He told me," you said sternly, needing to clarify this point before you let yourself fall any deeper, "that you said you didn't get involved because you didn't think you could be faithful."

"Not as long as you exist, babygirl." His eyes flicked up to yours and though the words were flirtatious, the tone, his expression, were utterly sincere. At your look of confusion, his face melted into a grateful smile. He could see on your face that you were really listening to him, that you'd believe what he said. The joy of it was almost painful.

"I don't get involved because I couldn't promise anyone that I wouldn't go running if you ever looked my way." At your look of wry disbelief, his eyes narrowed, and his hand tightened around your shoulder. "In a New York fucking minute, doll," he growled. "I'm yours. I've always been yours, even when I wasn't ready to deal with that yet."

You held your breath, afraid to speak, afraid to move, hardly able to believe it'd be this easy. You'd never expected to be handed everything you wanted simply because you dared ask for it.

Bucky mistook your silence for skepticism, continuing to speak in the hopes that he could make you understand, help you see. "But you?" It seemed his heart was in his eyes, but you couldn't be sure you didn't have stars in yours. "Even if I could imagine wanting anyone or anything as much as I want you," he broke off to press a kiss both passionate and tender to your mouth, "I'd never hurt you like that." The word never was a promise, spoken against your lips, his trembling with emotion, before he was sinking in again.

You were breathless, your heart pounding like a drum. You were drowning in the warm golden glow of your personal paradise, seduced in all new ways by Bucky's mouth. Only one thought drifted to the surface to distract you. You broke the kiss, bracing your hands against his shoulders to push him back a bare inch.

"Why didn't you ever say anything?" You asked the question without accusation, the confusion real. You wanted to believe Bucky, wanted to believe that he was sincere in his feelings for you, but his behavior made no sense.

Bucky's face flamed when he thought of the conversation he'd had with his best friend about you. Steve had done a terrible job of hiding his exasperated amusement when he'd discovered he'd been an unintentional rival, at least in Bucky's head. Discovering that you and Steve had long ago placed your relationship on a firmly platonic footing had made Bucky curse himself thoroughly.

Having most of the information had allowed him to re-examine the last several months with a new perspective. From the sketchbook he’d found to the many conversations he’d overheard from your living room, once he looked at everything anew, he had been forced to come to an unfortunate conclusion.

He was an idiot who had absolutely no idea what was going on. The only thing for it was to tell you the truth and hope for the best.

"I thought Steve was in love with you." He hated to admit to it, felt like an asshole, but he knew he had to be honest with you if he wanted you to give him a chance. The sneer forming on your face made his lips twitch, regardless. "You seemed like you'd be so good together; I didn't want to get in the way."

You weren't angry, simply baffled. "Why would you think that?" Your voice held a wealth of confusion, as you couldn't see that you or Steve had ever seemed the least bit interested in one another, at least after your mutual obligatory high school crushes were over.

Bucky laughed a little and took his courage in both hands. He could tell by your reaction that you were no more in love with Steve than he was with you. If he didn't tell you how he felt now, he'd regret it the rest of his life. His hand resting lightly against the side of your throat, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw, he looked into your eyes and spoke only the truth. "I know how easy it is to fall in love with you. I started the first time you smiled at me, and I don't think I've ever stopped."

Your breath caught. There was no mistaking meaning or sentiment in a statement that baldly honest. Your heart began to gallop as you pushed an astonished Bucky Barnes over onto his back to climb on top of him. His look of confusion was replaced by a burning adoration as you settled down, a knee on either side of his hips as your mouth came down onto his.

As you began to devour him, his hands closed around your hips. He wasn't disappointed by your reaction, but he had been hoping you might respond in kind. You may not love him yet; he was simply grateful that you seemed willing to be persuaded.

Bucky reminded himself to be patient, even as he basked in the experience of being devoured by you. He’d never thought to have you kiss him like you needed his breath to live. Now that he had, he was certain he was living his best day ever.

He was so busy reminding himself to be patient, glorying in you, he didn't understand what you were saying at first when you tore your mouth from his to kiss and suck at his throat. Your hands slid up inside his shirt to start working at getting him naked, as you sighed into his ear, your voice an ache. "I told myself a thousand times not to fall in love with you."

Once you started talking, you needed to say it right. You lifted up until you were looking into Bucky's eyes, bracing your hands on his stomach to trace the ridges of muscle there, but close enough that you could tempt yourself with his mouth. He gazed silently up at you, mesmerized by the smile on your face as you brushed your mouth over his. "I told myself a thousand times you weren't for me." You laughed a little, huskily. "I'm so glad I don't listen to anyone, even myself."

Bucky was having a hard time understanding you were saying what he thought you were saying. He wanted so badly to believe that you might someday feel how he felt, he couldn't easily accept it was already be within his grasp. Until your eyes were burning into his and he was seeing everything he'd dreamed of, he hadn't known love could feel like it could stop the heart.

"I love you, too, Bucky." Your voice was nearly a whisper, but in it he heard everything he'd been aching for… "Sometimes I feel like I've been in love with you my whole damn life.” …his whole damn life.

Bucky's arms banded tight around you at the same moment your mouth came down on his once more, his hand cupping the back of your head to tilt your mouth for the best angle for his. He didn't realize he was tearing at your dress until you were dragging it off over your head and flinging it away with a laugh and love was stopping his heart again.

"Can't believe you thought me and Steve could be a thing," you snickered as he tumbled you over onto your back. He could only stare in delighted wonder as you lay in your miniscule bra and underwear, making retching noises as you giggled. He was certain he'd never been happier in his life than he was in this moment.

“Why not?” Bucky grinned down at you, his hand coming up to cup your laughing face, his fingers gentle against the skin of your cheek. The sight of you, happy and shining with love, laying in his bed, his arms, dazzled him. “You're both hot. You told me last night you love him.”

“I do.” Your face took on that same sweet purity he'd seen in Steve's smile when he spoke about his love for you. He couldn't help but note that your face had not been pure, but full of earthly, earthy lust when you'd told Bucky you loved him. His heart soared as he finally understood the difference, understood that he’d never been able to stand between you and Steve because it wasn’t about that. You could love them both, with all of your generous heart; it didn’t have to be a competition.

The next moment, you were dissolving into amusement, snorting, “That doesn’t mean I want to nail him.” Your eyes widened in dismay as you looked up into Bucky's grinning face. “Please don’t tell me you came back here and confronted him.”

Bucky's eyes flicked away and back at the reminder of things he wasn't supposed to know. “Not exactly.” He could feel the heat climbing up his neck as he tried to avoid selling out his friend while also being honest with you. “We talked it out.” That was putting it mildly. Steve had reacted with some amusement but plenty of compassion once he understood that Bucky was crazy-stupid-head-over-heels-in-love with you and that he’d been torturing himself with guilt that he was stealing his best friend’s girl.

That meant Steve had leaked like a sieve. He hadn’t divulged anything you’d said or confided, but he’d told almost everything about the project itself. He’d also tried to be as encouraging as he possibly could without breaking your confidence, but he was about as subtle as neon. Bucky’s insecurities had been the only thing standing in the way of seeing right through Steve.

Until you showed up at his door looking like high-class sin and given him everything. Hindsight gave him a much better understanding of his friend’s words and demeanor. He would never betray Steve, no matter what.

Your eyes narrowed. Between the blush and the averted eyes, you immediately suspected he and Steve were up to something. You knew him too well to not know when he was keeping secrets. You rolled your eyes, but your heart was racing as you asked a half-serious, half-teasing question, a little terrified you were misinterpreting. "Are you sure you're up for being my boyfriend? I already know all of your tells and you’re not telling me something.”

The word 'boyfriend' had Bucky's breath catching. He leaned over to kiss you, his mouth firm and warm against yours. He felt like his heart was in this throat but also like it was shining out of his chest. When he lifted his head, your eyes fluttered open to smile into his. Sultrily, you linked your hands behind his neck. "Kissing me won't distract me, but you should definitely keep trying."

The teasing light in your eyes drew him in until he felt like he was falling in love with you all over again. He kissed you again, quick and happy. His bright blue eyes beamed into yours, the crinkles at the corners making his smile so sweet it made your throat ache. His voice was firm, and completely serious, however, as he purred, "Babygirl, I am absolutely up for being your boyfriend."

Your smile as you drew him down was bright and happy, as was the sweet, generous kiss he willingly sank into. He devoured you gently, his lips clinging to yours, his tongue sweeping between your lips to deepen the kiss with a hum of pleasure. You buried your hands in his hair to comb your fingers through the thick, soft locks, the scrape of your nails over his scalp making him purr.

He brushed his lips over your cheek, pressing soft kisses to the underside of your jaw on his way to the tender spot on your neck behind your ear. You arched your throat into his mouth with a tiny moan, your mind clouding in the heat coming from Bucky's body, the heat he was stoking higher with hands and lips and teeth. His palms were moving over the skin of your waist, hips, and thighs, setting fires under your skin everywhere he touched.

Bucky wanted to crawl inside this moment and live there forever, enchanted with the murmurs of pleasure he was urging from you with every touch, enthralled by the way your hands moved over him with both tenderness and desire as you slid your hands up inside his t-shirt to push it up and off over his head.

Once Bucky lifted away from you to toss his shirt to the floor, you brushed your hands and eyes over his chest with both love and appreciation. Gently, you slipped your arms around the barrel of his chest to pull your mouth to his skin. Your lips barely touching him, the kiss a bare breath of sensation, you finally gave in to a years-long impulse and brushed your mouth over the scars on his chest as your hands traced the ridges of the muscles of his back.

When you lifted your head to look into Bucky's face, the blaze of love in his eyes took your breath away, as did his lips as his mouth took yours again. You kissed him back fervently, lost in the joy and the rapture of not only being loved by Bucky, but believing it. You'd asked, and Bucky had answered with everything you wanted. You'd never take it for granted.

"I love you so much, babygirl," he rasped against the skin of your shoulders as his hands began to race over you, his fingers gripping tighter as with moans and equally desperate hands you urged him on. "I'm gonna make you happy, I swear."

"You already do," you said, the bright tone to your voice only underscoring your words. "Bucky," you crooned, your hands coming up to cup his face and draw it to your mouth. You brushed kisses over his cheeks, the corners of his mouth, his eyelids. “You love me.” You said the words with a kind of joyous wonder and laughed breathlessly. “It’s all I ever wanted.”

Bucky was lost in the shine of your eyes, the softness of your lips as they explored his face amongst whispered words of devotion. He’d tortured himself with fantasies like this from time to time over the years. Once again, fantasy couldn’t hold a candle to reality. You were so much more vibrant than he could have ever imagined. Being loved by you was so much better than he could have ever dreamed.

Bucky responded to your sweetness in kind, but with a burst of exuberant joy. He scattered kisses all over your face, making you giggle. "You're too easy," he laughed.

"I agree," you laughed back. "You should definitely work harder. Give it over then." With that you pushed him over onto his back and clambered on top of him, your hands diving under his waistband to push his jeans and underwear down.

You buried your face in his neck once he laughed and took over the job of getting him naked by kicking his remaining clothes off and jostling you. Fortunately, this left your hands free to slide appreciatively over the velvet skin of his chest. Your fingers dug in for purchase, and to test the muscle, and you giggled as he bucked under you. Never one to let an opportunity go to waste, he used the excuse of that wild motion to slide his hands up your back to press you close.

"You're the boss," he chuckled, his metal hand sliding back down to close around your ass and rock you against him, his other hand deftly unsnapping your bra.

You sat up to let your bra fall down your arms, but your expression was mock unamused. With a lifted brow and a half-smile you’d learned from Natasha, you bent back over to nip at his lower lip. "Show-off."

Bucky couldn't help but laugh a little as his hands came up to cup the back of your head to hold you in place for a long, warm kiss. "All just practice for you." The laugh under his voice made it clear he didn't expect you to buy it for a second. He was right.

"That's what we're going with, huh?" You snorted and dug your fingers into his belly, making him laugh and squirm.

He retaliated with clever fingers digging into every weak spot he remembered from your youth until you were breathlessly giggling on your back and the light of your happiness was making his throat ache. He stopped to gaze down at you, equally breathless thanks to your excellent memory for his weak spots and lifelong willingness to exploit them.

"It's plausible enough," you teased, sliding your arms around his neck and grinning up into his face, "but I'm pretty sure it's bullshit."

"I'm not sure about that," he murmured. The sight of your face softening with love, adoration beaming out of your eyes, drew him even further under your spell. If he’d known he could shower you with affection and see you bloom like a flower in the sun, he’d never have done anything else.

The next moment, his mouth was on yours and he was once again taking your breath away. This time, however, it was the generous way his lips clung to yours, the deliberate strength with which his hands gripped and held that left you shaken. Every touch made you feel cherished, every kiss felt like a promise.

He slowly slid your underwear down your legs, caressing your skin as he went. His warm palm felt like heaven against the outside of your thigh, the back of your knee, down the curve of your calf as he slipped the last of your clothing from you. Once you were both completely naked, he looked down the length of your body in something akin to awe.  He was trying to memorize what you looked like in this moment. He wanted never to forget this image, from the night you first told him you loved him.

You squirmed a little under his searing gaze, feeling vulnerable and a little self-conscious. It didn't matter that you'd been naked with Bucky before, or that you knew for a fact he appreciated your body, thought you were sexy. Under such a piercing stare, you couldn't help but feel shy.

You didn't know it, but the look you were giving Bucky was his favorite. Shy but sultry, he was certain you were the sexiest woman in the universe. With a growl, he rolled until he was on top of you, settling between your thighs and bracing himself on his elbows to cup your head with his hands and take your mouth in a passionate kiss. His cock pressed against you, sliding through your folds and making you moan.

"I want to go slow, make love to you, baby," he rasped against your mouth as he nipped at your lips and rocked slowly against you. "I thought that go in the chair would take the edge off." You were moaning as Bucky's mouth traveled down to your throat and his flesh hand traveled down to your breast. You arched into him and wrapped your legs around his waist to rock back up into him, his cock sliding along your clit and driving you gradually insane.

"But you're just too much," he breathed just before sinking his teeth into your neck with just enough pressure to feel amazing. "And all I can think about is being inside you." He tilted his hips so that his cock was at your entrance and slid his hand under your back to arch you into him. He took your nipple into his mouth with a hum but didn't move to press into you.

"Yes," you panted, delirious in the heat from Bucky's hands, mouth, body. "Please, Bucky. Inside me."

Bucky lifted his head to look into your eyes. He loved to see you like this, breathless and boneless in rapture he brought to you. "Anything you want, y/n," he murmured, in that sex-charged voice that starred in all your sex dreams now, as he slowly pushed into you. You were soaking wet both from arousal and the previous bout, leaving you soft and hot. Your walls tightened and rippled around him and he thought nothing in the universe could feel better. "Anything you want," he repeated, lost in the feeling of being inside you. "All you have to do is ask, babygirl. I'll give you the world."

Bucky was rock hard and almost too big to fit but it felt divine to stretch for him. You were drawn tight as a bow, waiting for Bucky to move because you were certain once he did you would fly into a thousand shards of ecstasy. Waiting on the knife edge was an almost painful rapture. You held on to Bucky's shoulders with a tight grip, your nails sinking into his flesh. He was kissing and biting your breasts in retaliation. You never wanted it to stop.

Then he was pulling slowly, deliciously out of you and though it felt amazing, you moaned, "More," fretfully, wanting him back inside of you immediately.

With a low chuckle, he was shoving back into you. "Whatever you say." He thrust harder and faster into you, to your enthusiastic encouragement. "You're the boss, babygirl." He dropped his forehead to yours, the feel of you clenching around him pushing him to the edge of his control.

The friction had you mindless and moaning, not a single coherent word to be had from you as the feel of him thrusting into you, the slide of his skin against yours, the heat of his breath as he rasped sexy words of love and praise sent you over the edge with a sobbing cry of his name.

The sound of you moaning his name in pleasure was Bucky's new favorite. He could spend eternity making you do it again and again and again. One of your hands was clenched in his hair, tugging and driving him higher, the other scrabbling against the skin of his back, trying to find a handhold while you came apart. Your legs were tight around his waist, your cunt tight and rippling around his cock, and he was holding on by his fingernails, not wanting it to end yet.

Still, he could only respond by thrusting harder and faster when you started to rock up into him. Your orgasm had calmed, but only slightly and the relentless pace of Bucky's hips had you climbing back up to peak, the need becoming an ache. "Oh," you breathed, and using your leverage in his hair, pulled his face to yours to rub your cheek against his, "I love you."

To Bucky's astonishment, the sound of your voice in his ear, sighing in both devotion and desire, had him losing his grip and coming inside you with stuttering hips and a groan of equal parts pleasure and dismay. Shaking, he held tight as he let your orgasm coax him through the most intense moment of his life. You held him equally tight, reveling in the sight, the feel of Bucky overtaken by you the way you so often were by him.

You'd already been about to come when Bucky's orgasm took you both by surprise. You shuddered over the peak right after him, delighted and devastated by the sensation of Bucky shivering in your arms.

Bucky lay a moment against you, gloriously surrounded by you, savoring the softness of your body under his, the tangle of your limbs around him. He was pretty sure he hadn't lost control like that since his first time, but like he’d said, you were dangerous. He hadn't been lying when he said you should come with a warning sign.

Once he had his breath back, he lifted his head from where he'd buried his face in your neck while you destroyed him. "Fuck," he said, before kissing you quickly but with lavish appreciation, "I love you, too."

You dissolved into giggles at the enthusiasm in his voice and the lecherous eyebrow wiggle he gave you. He grinned at you for another moment before he made himself roll off you, too aware that his weight had to be crushing you. You rolled with him, curling into his arms to rest your head on his chest and listen to his heart calm. "That was the hottest thing that has ever happened to me," you purred as you nuzzled into his chest.

"Oh, yeah?" Bucky replied, grinning at the ceiling. "What had the record before?"

"We set it last night," you retorted, then tilted your head back to wink cheekily at him.

He chuckled softly, his arm pressing you close as his hand came up to cup your face. "Stay?" His eyes tightened anxiously at the corners as he asked, afraid he was pushing too far, too fast in his need to adore you. "I've wanted to wake up next you for a long time," he explained.

You could swear your heart was singing, and not some anemic, breathy little thing, a but full-throated hundred-strong gospel choir singing hallelujah, the kind of song that lifts you up. You opted not to remind Bucky that it was around 8:30.

You snuggled up and slid your hand around the back of his neck to pull his face close for a kiss. "Anything you want, Bucky-bug," you murmured against his lips before cuddling against his side again, slipping your arm around his chest to snug yourself against him. "All you have to do is ask. I'll give you the world."

Bucky laughed a little, awe-struck at how his life had turned around in such a short time. That laugh faded quickly into adoring chagrin, however, when you smiled against his skin and said, "A for effort, my love, on the distraction." You kissed his shoulder affectionately. "But why don't you give in and tell me what you guys are up to?"

He knew a chill should run down his spine at how easily you saw through him combined with how single-minded you could be, but he couldn't stop grinning as he turned onto his side to pull you close. He wouldn’t betray his best friend, not even for you. "I guess I distracted myself," he replied with a winning smile, "because I don't know what you're talking about." 

"Steven. Grant. Rogers."

Steve had been whistling as he walked through the door of his apartment early Sunday afternoon. He was just getting home from the single best date of his life and yes, it was because the spectacular Peggy Carter had invited him to stay the night. He was on cloud nine.

Until he heard your voice, carrying through the apartment from the living room, speaking his full name in tones both angry and disappointed. He inched into the living room warily.

Even though you were glaring at him with an ire that he found terrifying in its coldness because you were always most likely to take revenge in this state, he couldn’t help but grin at you and Bucky. The two of you were snuggled up on the couch, surrounded by textbooks and papers, tablets and laptops, but you were sitting between Bucky's legs, his arm tight around your waist and snuggling you against him while he held a book with the other hand. He was smiling sheepishly at Steve, but the apology was almost drowned by the joy.

Steve knew he was in for it, but to see his two best friends, finally, happy and together more than made up for it. Whatever punishment you devised, he was certain it would be worth it.

Part Fourteen here

Taglist:

@learisa @angieptt @mia-at-work @midnightdream83 @wwecrazed2010 @allandoflimbo @emaywhyayy @cheekygeek05 @lovely-geek @diinofayce @suz-123 @hellzzzbelle @olukewarmo @fairchild21 @thefridgeismybestie @fandomsstolemylife00 @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @australianhorrorstory @buckybarneshairpullingkink @c-ly-g @wishingforahome @strangersstranger @whiskeyandwashitape @eyesfixedonthesun22 @ingenue-q @joe-mazzello-is-my-dad @irritated-bisexual @fashionworld12 @lbouvet @rishlo @bibliophile1773 @miraclesoflove @nerdy-bookworm-1998 @destiel-is--endgame @peaceinourtime82 @badassbaker @walkingtravesty97  @firefly-in-darkness @sleepingspacedragon @lydklein1 @marvel-lucy @supernaturalvikingwhore 

[thelookingglassalice]

Generations Pt. 1

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/The Winter Soldier x Taya/OC

Warnings: Mentions of medical experimentation, nothing graphic

Word Count: 1342

Square Filled: Next Generation @star-spangled-bingo

Summary: A woman with a cloudy past...and a baby comes into Bucky’s life, things get complicated.

A/N: @avengerscompound @lillianfromaccounting @https://patzammit.tumblr.com/

“Why are we in charge of checking on a civilian for Natasha?” Bucky asked as he and Clint sauntered down the sidewalk.

“Because she asked me to.” Clint yawned and took a long drink from his coffee.

“But…why I am I here?” Bucky gestured with his hands.

“You were free.” Clint shrugged.

“I was in the middle of something important.” Bucky protested.

“You were playing Mario Kart.” Clint tossed his empty cup and immediately went about looking for another coffee shop on the street.

“You mean, kicking your ass in Mario Kart.” Bucky corrected. “The target’s building is across the street, see anything?”

There was a sudden commotion as a body was thrown from a window of the building across the street.

“I don’t have spidey sense but I think there may be something going on.” Clint nodded.

“Yeah.”

They rushed across the street, Clint calling for clean up over the comms. They entered the building and started up the stairs. 

“Fifth floor,” Bucky told Clint. The other tenants were casually making their way outside to see the dead body. From above them came more sounds of a fight. They reached the landing and a body came flying at them.

“Shit!” Bucky ducked and Clint caught the body. 

“Ah! Dead guy.” Clint set the body on the steps and wiped his hands on his pants. 

There were more sounds of a scuffle from an open door, under that they could hear a baby crying. Clint pulled his bow and nodded to Bucky who looked around the door jamb. He was startled to find himself face to face with a woman. The woman reacted faster than Bucky and grabbed at his arm.

“Woah.” Bucky grabbed the woman’s wrist and spun her around, locking her arms across her chest. She bent at the waist, trying to throw him off.

“Barnes, you got her?” Clint called, going to inspect the playpen where the crying emanated from.

“Get away!” The woman roared and fought harder

“Sort of.” Bucky wheezed as the woman elbowed his stomach and almost outpowered him. “Did Romanoff say I could use force?”

“Romanoff sent you?” The woman stopped trying to get out of his grip. “You surprised me, sorry.”

“Back at ya.” Bucky released the woman and rubbed his stomach, leaning against a wall. She had some power behind her frame.

“That’ll be Tasha,” Clint muttered and answered his phone. “It was like this when we got here, I swear.”

“It’s okay, they’re all gone.” The woman ran to the playpen, trying to catch her breath.

“Did you do that?” Bucky gestured to the broken window, there were another two unconscious bodies on the floor.

“Well, I tried to ask them nicely to leave but…” She shrugged and turned to face Bucky as Clint re-entered. In her arms, she held a toddler who looked at Clint and Bucky with interest.

“She wants to talk to you.” Clint handed his phone off to the woman. “Tasha says that they’re sending clean up, we’re supposed to head back to the compound. Is that a real baby?” 

“As opposed to?” Bucky frowned.

“I don’t know, it took me by surprise, okay?”

—–

“Did you get out okay?” Natasha greeted them as they exited the car at the compound. Steve was trailing behind her. 

“Yeah, we’re just late because I got distracted by a dog and made a wrong turn.” Clint shrugged.

“It wasn’t even a real dog.” Bucky gave Clint a look of displeasure.

“That squirrel had to be on steroids.” The woman offered as she climbed out of the car, she turned and detached the car seat, pulling it out. The baby was asleep.

“This is it, huh?” Natasha peered at the baby girl.

“Yeah?”

“I just thought it would be…exceptional.” Natasha shrugged and led the way into the building.

“Thanks, Romanoff.” The woman sighed.

Once everyone was settled and the baby was stashed in a spare room to sleep, Clint had to get some more information.

“One: How do you know Tasha? Red Room, spy network, girl scouts? Two: Where did the kid come from? Three: How did you take out five guys all by your lonesome and almost overpower that guy? Go.” Clint flopped onto a couch and pointed at the woman.

“He’s certainly direct.” The woman looked at Natasha. “How much does anyone know?”

“Nothing. Fury is the only one I told since I needed his help.” Natasha sat next to Clint and he draped an arm over her shoulders. Steve took a chair and Bucky stood behind the couch as the woman sat in an opposite chair.

“My name is Taya. I know Natasha through mutual careers.” The woman started.

“So Black Widow?” Clint asked.

“No. I was what was called a Siren. HYDRA’s version.” Taya jumped when she heard the wood in the couch crack.

Everyone looked to Bucky who was holding a piece of the back of the couch.

“Sorry.” He cleared his throat and dropped the splinter.

“The kid is my daughter, Delilah. When I went rogue Nat’s connections let her know there was an unsupervised HYDRA agent running around. Luckily, she asked questions before shooting.” Taya leaned one elbow on the chair arm, propping her chin on her hand.

“I was lucky enough to have someone do that for me.” Nat smiled at Clint, then shoved him when he kissed her cheek. “Stop it.”

“Do you really think having a child while you’re on the run was the best idea?” Steve felt bad for her, but the dad lecture was just fighting to come out. 

“The child happened before I went on the run,” Taya said flatly.

“How…does that happen? My frame of reference isn’t the best but I don’t remember a daycare center from my time there.” Bucky’s jaw was clenched, a muscle ticked in his cheek.

“You wouldn’t, would you?” Taya met Bucky’s eyes for the first time the whole day. “I lost my drive for killing people, they offered me a place in experimental ops. We never saw each other but I heard about you when you escaped. A few months after they started the Sampson experiment on me and a couple others. Serum enhanced genetic material offspring.”

“Bioengineered babies.” Steve’s face was twisted in a grimace. “And I’m guessing they would be programmed?”

“I’m guessing that was the plan. She was the first one to actually be viable.” Taya glanced down the hall.

"But…she’s a toddler? Did they think they could just send kids to fight?” Clint was staring.

“It makes sense. Keep training, keep pumping the serum into them. By the time they hit adulthood, they would be lethal. Although, who wouldn’t trust a child?” Natasha was tapping her nails on her leg.

“Like those albino alien kids.“ Clint breathed. Everyone turned to stare at him. "So…she’s your kid? Like, genetically?” Clint asked.

“Genetically mine with ‘enhanced donor material’. Which I’ll let you make your own conclusions about.” Taya was staring somewhere between Steve and Bucky. 

“Woah, so you could have a Winter Soldier in there?” Clint pointed to the bedroom door. He realized his mistake and looked behind him at Bucky. “I don’t mean that. It could be Wade’s or maybe Steve's…” Clint trailed off. Natasha covered his mouth.

“Unfortunately, I didn’t get to check the paternity records. We ran when she was a couple weeks old. They come after us occasionally, but this is the closest they have got in a while.” Taya stood up. “I’m sorry but I should grab a nap while she’s down.” Taya’s eyes were dark and heavy. She turned and joined Lilah in the bedroom.

“This is going to take some time to process, obviously. But, um, Bruce is coming tomorrow with his genetic expertness.” Natasha was standing and pulling Clint to his feet, still covering his mouth.

“It’s just like that Maury show Scott watches.” Steve was still shellshocked, he hadn’t moved at all. “Bucky…Buck?”

Bucky was standing with the entire back of the couch in his hands.

[itsjamesstan]

without sight | two

bucky barnes x reader

summary; sometimes we go through life seeing but still completely blind. when a young woman relapses, she turns to the only person she knows she can trust, what she didn’t expect was the soldier who she’d run into and change things for her like she’d never expect.

warnings; none

a/n; there’s a name in place of reader for a reason, it’ll all soon reveal itself also thank you for all the support people have given me so far i am in awe! we finally get to learn a little more about reader in this one. i hope you enjoy! feedback is always very much appreciated, so it you could let me know what you think i would be more than thankful!

series masterlist

A fist flew towards her face, Lilah taking a step to the right in order to evade it, her hand quickly reaching out to grab her assailant’s wrist and twist it hearing the cry of pain but only as a slightly muffled sound. All the sounds that surrounded her sounded as though she were underwater but nonetheless the images in front of her moved. It didn’t take long after she had kicked the first attacker away that another approached her fists raised, disposing of him as fast as she did the other. The woman stood at attention, ready for what was to come. Several others attempted to knock her down but her body moving on its own accord, took them down without a strain as though it were all simply muscle memory.

Yet she couldn’t have prepared for the fear that took over her body once she raised her head, looking away from the unconscious body at her feet and straight ahead. Her limbs stiffened, her sympathetic nervous system firing up as she tried to gain control of her breathing. Standing a couple feet in front of her was a man she couldn’t name but knew was a force to be reckoned with. Dressed in a full black tactical suit, a muzzle-like mask covering the lower half of his face and goggles that kept his eyes from view and still she could tell that he was staring directly at her. Her head turned towards a group of men who were nearby simply watching but seeing their lax bodies reclining in the chairs she knew they were of no help to her. 

When her head turned back to the stranger, he had already started his approach, fighting the urge to step away and hide there was something in her that told her that that wasn’t the right way to respond. When the man was close enough, the girl wound her arm back, fist clenched and let it fly toward her assailant’s face. Only to have it stopped all too easily by his right arm, not having enough time to respond before his leg rose and kicked her knee causing her to let out a whine as she stumbled backwards before dropping on the opposite knee. 

Sucking in a deep breath, Lilah rose from the ground, knee throbbing before allowing herself some time to rebalance and reset herself. Bouncing on the balls of her feet as he once again came close, she threw a punch towards him again anticipating his block once again and as he held his own forearm against hers, her leg kicked out to hit the side of his torso before dipping down and hitting the back of his knee. When he merely stumbled for a second, shock slipped onto her face as she took a step away from him turning to depart until her upper arm was caught, her body being dragged back and thrown down on the hard ground.

When her eyes slipped open, her lungs still hauling air deep inside them, she could hear the bright laugh of her friend who quickly reappeared in her vision, her hand extended out towards the girl. Her feet were planted on a mat, sweat covering her body and the gear she was loaned when the two women had finally reached the gym. Natasha wrapped an arm around the girl’s shoulders, leaning her head against Lilah’s before giving her a squeeze,

“It has been a long time since I beat you at a good old spar. You’ve let yourself go Li.” The former assassin stated, Lilah only producing a laugh in response as she shrugged the arm away only earning another laugh in response.

“Just give me a little time to loosen up and we’ll see how long this winning streak of yours will last,”

“So what’s going on? Why’s Lilah back?” Steve asked as he entered the lab turning for a moment to watch the two women laugh as they walk towards the elevator, turning back to Bruce once they’d disappeared through the doors.

“It’s happening again,” Tony stated, facing the blond and leaning against the counter, “Started this morning and who knows if she’s had any more since then.”

A look of concern passed over both Sam and Steve’s faces whilst a look of confusion settled on Bucky’s. He wasn’t sure who they were talking about and since his return from Wakanda, he had never seen her around so who was she? He wanted to ask the flurry of questions that had been racing through his head but only one came out,

“What’s happening again?” His voice cutting through the conversation that was still going on. All the other three men, looked around at one another exchanging silent words until they all stared at Steve, Bucky assumed, telling him to explain and with a sigh that’s exactly what he did,

“A few years ago that woman you just saw left the Avengers in exchange for a normal life. Granted to her she remembers nothing of her time with us apart from working admin. It’s what we told her to keep her safe.” Steve began, taking in his best friend’s face as he spoke trying to keep things as simple as he could, 

“She was set to be on S.H.I.E.L.D’s radar from the moment she was born but her mother managed to evade them and they only caught wind of her when she was admitted into college.”

“The same thing happened with her mother, their ‘gift’ is, as we assume, something passed through the bloodline. All the women in her family have been able to see.” Tony continued, crossing his arms over his chest.

“To see?” Bucky asked, taking a moment to pause as he looked at the other three men in the room, “The large majority of the human race are born with the ability to see.”  

It took less than a second for Sam to hit Bucky upside the head, who quickly retaliated by hitting him back until Steve stepped between the two of them.

“Not eyesight, you idiot,” Sam retorted at the soldier before being reprimanded by Steve as Bucky stuck his tongue out over the Captain’s shoulder, earning a glare from the former-soldier.

“They can see everything. Things that have happened, are happening and will happen. Doesn’t matter where the situation is happening, if needs be they’ll see it,” Bruce finally explained once Steve had separated the two, “We’re not sure what causes it, triggers it or how it entered their bloodline. It’s there and it’s not always a good thing.”

“Kind of like Elrond’s foresight from Lord of the Rings?” The brunet answered and simply got a short hum in response as Bruce finished fiddling with the samples he had gotten from the girl, “How funny.” He muttered to himself, ignoring the feeling of both Tony and Steve’s eyes on him. Sam had gone over to help Bruce store the samples until Dr Cho arrived in the morning,

“What’s funny Buck?” Steve asked, stepping towards his friend, Tony following as his arms fell to his sides, paying full attention to what was being said.

“HYDRA were keen to have something - someone like that. They spoke about it often, even more so than trying to create more winter soldiers. Something always went wrong though.” He said with a shrug before pushing himself off his perch and stalking out the lab.

tags; @mcuimxgine

and here we have it. i hope you enjoyed it. i would very much appreciate any feedback. thanks in advance.

kisses kal x