#else in Europe. and james steps back!! you could see it in his EYES that that is the moment when Captain Flint starts to form

[guhhhhhhhhhhh]

I have to put fresh sheets on my bed and make it but I've just been sitting on my bare mattress for the last 20 mins ranting to myself about this damn show

[sagewritings]

Grace and Arrogance - James Beaufort x Fem!Reader

pairing: james beaufort x fem!reader

synopsis: amidst playful bickering, the dynamic between you and james transforms from turmoil to bliss when james sheds his facade of arrogance to reveal hidden admiration.

word count: 2.1k

warnings/tags: mentions of a car accident, fluff with james beaufort

a/n: hello everyone! it's been a while since my last post because i haven't really had any inspiration and time over the past months but after watching maxton hall last week, i just couldn't help but write! ! i wrote this in like an hour on my notes app so it may seem a bit rushed but that's okay :>

if you’d like to check out my other works, you can check the pinned post in my blog :>

i hope you’ll like this fic! happy reading!

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Being a regular visitor at the Beaufort estate has familiarized you with every corner of the house. Now, you have memorized every room and decoration, immediately spotting whatever is newly added. The Beauforts didn’t mind your presence, with your family being close friends of theirs.

But it was not the Beauforts' son who you were particularly fond of.

You were extremely close with Lydia, your best friend since childhood. Despite both of you coming from wealthy backgrounds, your upbringing was notably different. Your parents owned a chain of hotels and restaurants across Europe, but they insisted on raising you humbly, teaching you the value of hard work and modesty. This upbringing made you see through the arrogance often displayed by James, Lydia's brother.

James, with his confident smirk and air of superiority, was someone you couldn't stand. Your encounters often led to playful bickering, a routine everyone at Maxton Hall was familiar with. But behind your teasing, there was an underlying respect for each other, one neither of you would openly acknowledge.

One sunny afternoon, you found yourself in the Beauforts' expansive garden, your favorite place to unwind with Lydia. She was lounging on a chaise, flipping through a magazine, while you were engrossed in a novel. The peace was soon interrupted by the sound of footsteps.

"Well, well, what do we have here? The ladies of leisure," James's voice drawled, cutting through the tranquility.

You looked up, ready to retort. "And here comes the lord of arrogance. What do you want, James?"

James smirked, leaning against a nearby pillar. "Just enjoying the sunshine. Is that a crime?"

"Only if you're planning to cast a shadow over our peace," you shot back, not missing a beat.

Lydia chuckled from her seat. "You two are impossible. Can't you ever have a conversation without turning it into a fight?"

"It's not my fault your brother is insufferable," you said, closing your book and standing up to face James.

"Insufferable? That's a new one. What else do you think about me, Y/N?" James asked, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

"Do you really want to know?" you challenged, stepping closer.

"Absolutely," he replied, his gaze locking onto yours.

Before you could respond, Lydia interjected. "Okay, enough, both of you. Can't we just have one afternoon without the bickering?"

You glanced at Lydia, then back at James. "Fine. But only because Lydia asked."

James shrugged, a smug smile on his face. "Whatever you say, Y/N."

Despite your frequent clashes, there were moments when you couldn't deny James's charm. Like the time he helped you with a school project, his intelligence and wit shining through in a way that caught you off guard.

You were in the library, struggling with a particularly difficult economics assignment. The sound of approaching footsteps made you groan inwardly. Of course, it had to be him.

"Need help, Y/N?" James asked, looking over your shoulder.

"I can manage, thank you," you replied curtly, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of admitting you were stuck.

He pulled up a chair next to you anyway. "Let me see."

You sighed, sliding the paper towards him. "Fine. But no gloating."

"Wouldn't dream of it," he said with a wink, scanning the problem. "Ah, I see the issue. You're overthinking it. Here, let me show you."

For the next hour, James patiently explained the concepts, his usual arrogance replaced with genuine enthusiasm for the subject. By the end of it, you had to admit he was a good teacher.

"Thanks, James," you said, a reluctant smile tugging at your lips.

"Anytime, Y/N," he replied, his expression softening.

Despite these moments of truce, your dynamic remained largely unchanged. That is, until the day you stopped going to your classes in Maxton Hall without warning. Lydia knew the reason but couldn't divulge it due to your parents' wish for privacy. This secrecy, however, only fueled James's concern and curiosity. Despite your clashes, he had always admired your kindness and humility.

Days turned into weeks, and your absence left a noticeable void. James found himself more worried than he cared to admit. His irritation grew, not just because you were gone, but because Lydia refused to tell him why.

James sat in the library, his usual spot, staring at the empty chair across from him. It felt wrong not having you there to challenge him, to banter with him. The silence was suffocating.

"Where is she, Lydia?" James demanded, cornering his sister in the hallway.

"I can't tell you, James. It's not my place," Lydia replied, her expression firm yet sympathetic.

"You know something, and you're keeping it from me," he accused, frustration evident in his tone.

"Trust me, if I could, I would tell you. But I can't," Lydia insisted, turning away.

James ran a hand through his hair, his frustration palpable. "You don't understand, Lydia. I need to know she's okay."

"She is. That's all I can say," Lydia replied softly before walking away, leaving James standing there, his mind racing with worry.

He spent sleepless nights thinking about you, imagining the worst scenarios. Had something happened to you? Were you in trouble? Each passing day without any news felt like an eternity, and the worry gnawed at him incessantly.

The mystery was finally revealed during a dinner at the Beaufort estate. As you and Lydia's parents chatted, the conversation inadvertently turned to your family. James listened intently as they discussed the car accident that had left your father seriously injured. You had been absent to take over the family business in his stead, juggling the responsibilities of an heir with the pressures of high school.

"It was such a terrible accident," your mother said, her voice tinged with worry. "He was lucky to survive, but the recovery process has been grueling."

James's heart sank as he listened. The image of you, strong and resilient, dealing with such a massive burden alone, tugged at his heartstrings.

"Y/N has been amazing," your father added, his voice filled with pride and concern. "She's stepped up in ways we never imagined, taking on the business and keeping things running smoothly."

Lydia's parents nodded sympathetically. "She truly is remarkable. We can't imagine the pressure she's under."

James felt a pang of guilt and a surge of determination. He admired you even more for handling such immense pressure with grace. The next day, he decided to visit you.

You were in the midst of preparing for a business meeting when James arrived at your house. The sight of him surprised you, and your initial reaction was to push him away.

"James, I don't have time for this," you said, frustration evident in your voice as you shuffled through papers.

"I'm not here to argue," he replied, stepping closer. "I'm here to help."

You looked up, skepticism in your eyes. "Help? How?"

"I know how to run a business. Let me support you," he offered, sincerity in his voice.

You hesitated, the weight of your responsibilities making you wary. But the genuine concern in his eyes made you relent.

"Fine. But don't think this means I like you," you muttered, turning back to your work.

James chuckled. "Wouldn't dream of it."

He stepped forward, his presence steadying you as you felt the weight of everything crashing down. You fought back tears of exhaustion, the stress overwhelming you.

"Y/N, let me take some of this off your shoulders," James said gently, his voice a soothing balm to your frayed nerves.

"I… I don't know if I can trust you," you admitted, your voice trembling. "You've always been so… unserious."

James's expression softened, his eyes filled with understanding. "I get it. I've been a jerk, but I care about you. More than I let on."

You looked into his eyes, seeing the sincerity there. "Why now, James?"

"Because I admire you. Your strength, your kindness. You're handling all of this with such grace, and I want to help you. Please, let me," he pleaded.

Your defenses crumbled, the exhaustion and stress finally taking their toll. "Okay," you whispered, the word carrying the weight of your vulnerability.

James stepped closer, his arms wrapping around you in a comforting embrace. For the first time in weeks, you allowed yourself to lean on someone else, to share the burden.

Over the next few days, James proved to be an invaluable ally. His expertise in business management eased your burden, allowing you to balance school and work more effectively. The more you worked together, the more you saw a different side of him—one that was caring and dependable.

James took on tasks with a surprising efficiency, his usual arrogance replaced with a dedication that impressed you. He handled meetings, reviewed contracts, and even helped streamline operations, all while providing a steady source of support and encouragement.

One evening, after a particularly long day, you both found yourselves sitting in the garden, the stars twinkling above.

"Do you remember the first time we met?" James asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

You laughed softly. "How could I forget? You spilled juice all over my dress."

He chuckled, shaking his head. "I was so nervous. I wanted to make a good impression, and I ended up making a mess."

"I thought you were a spoiled brat," you admitted, smiling at the memory.

"And now?" he asked, his gaze locking onto yours.

"Now, I see someone who cares deeply about his family and friends. Someone who hides his true self behind a facade of arrogance," you said softly.

James's expression turned serious. "And I see someone who is incredibly strong, even when faced with immense challenges. Someone who inspires me to be better."

The air between you seemed to crackle with electricity. Before you could second-guess yourself, you leaned in, pressing your lips to his. The kiss was gentle, tentative at first, but quickly deepened as you both poured all your unspoken feelings into it.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and dazed, you met his gaze and saw the same vulnerability mirrored in his eyes.

"I've liked you for a long time, Y/N," James admitted. "I just didn't know how to tell you."

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. "I guess I like you too, James. Even if you are insufferable sometimes."

He laughed, pulling you into another kiss. The garden seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in that moment.

The days turned into weeks, and with James's help, you managed to stabilize your family's business. His presence became a constant source of support and comfort, and your feelings for him began to shift.

Returning to Maxton Hall, you and James surprised everyone with your newfound camaraderie. The playful bickering was replaced by a growing closeness that neither of you could ignore.

The fundraiser ball at Maxton Hall was an annual event where everyone dressed in Victorian-era attire. This year, you and James were assigned to fix the lights, a task that allowed for a rare moment of privacy.

"Careful with that, Y/N," James warned as you reached for a particularly tricky bulb.

"I've got it," you insisted, balancing precariously on a ladder.

James steadied the ladder, his hands brushing against yours as he helped you with the light. The proximity made your heart race, a tension building between you that neither could ignore.

As the last bulb clicked into place, you turned to thank him, only to find him closer than expected. His eyes locked onto yours, the air thick with unspoken feelings.

"James…" you began, but he silenced you with a gentle touch to your cheek.

"I admire you, Y/N. More than you'll ever know," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper.

Before you could respond, he closed the distance, his lips capturing yours in a tender kiss. The world seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in that moment.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and dazed, you met his gaze and saw the same vulnerability mirrored in his eyes.

"Can we try this?" you asked, your voice trembling slightly.

James smiled, his thumb brushing against your cheek. "I'd like that very much."

As the evening wore on, the lights you and James had fixed illuminated the grand hall, casting a warm glow over the attendees. You stood together, hand in hand, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.

[oitommothetease]

Invisible String (11/?)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female reader (Modern AU)

Word Count: 2.3k words

Warning : fluff, angst, shitty Steve, Don’t ask me why I make Steve so unlikable in every thing  I write( PS I’m still mad at endgame Steve), mention of sex

If someone had told you that you would wake up snuggled to your boss — naked — you would have told them to fuck off and leave you alone. Not that the idea of James in your bed was repulsive, no, it was actually quite the opposite. You wanted him so much that it scared you because he — well, he was so gorgeous, and you were you. And he even looked better lying in your bed while the sunlight peaked onto his face from the window, making his stubble and hair appear golden-ish. Even as hard his exterior was, everything about him, mostly sleeping in your bed, appeared soft. 

“You know, watching people while they sleep is kinda creepy,” James said, his voice gruff from sleep and you felt heat rushing through your body. God, his morning voice was so hot. It took a second for your brain to register his words and when it did, you moved your gaze away from him.

“You’re beautiful,” you blurted out. You could feel him rumbling as he rubbed his still sleep-dazed eyes.

He gently lifted his hand to place it on your face, caressing your cheek softly with his knuckles as he said, “You are beautiful."

You jokingly rolled your eyes and shifted your face slightly to plant a kiss on the inside of his palm. “Don’t you have a club to run?” 

“The club can wait,” Bucky’s hand trailed off from your face to your waist and he flipped you, situating you on his lap and kissed you lazily while his hands roamed around your body. 

***

Bucky felt like he was dreaming, he felt as if any moment you’ll slip out of his grasp and he would have to wake up. This was too good to be true, you were too good to be true. After an incredible morning, which included him pounding into you in your bed and then on the kitchen worktop and then in the shower. He couldn’t keep his hands to himself, he needed to touch you — feel you — make sure you were here with him safe. 

It wasn’t just sex, it was so intimate that it felt so much more. The time when he wasn’t buried inside you, you’d talk about everything. He told you that when he was a kid, he loved baking. His mom worked, so he spent most of his time helping his sister with her new hobby. Rebecca soon grew out of it, but Bucky didn’t. He told you he’d love to open a bakery in a foreign country.

“You know, we can go to Europe,” you suggested. “You can open a bakery and maybe some chocolate whiff is all I need to break out from my writing slump.”

Bucky’s heart ached at your confession, he was delighted to know that he wasn’t the only one that was fantasizing about a future with you. He had never told his ambitions to anyone, mainly because when he did tell someone, they laughed at him. His career and exterior did not match his dreams, and soon those dreams died. But you made him desire that peaceful life. He wanted peace and tranquility in his life with you. Maybe tomorrow he would wake up and realize that this was some dream, and he was alone in his apartment and not in your bed. 

“Have you thought of a name yet?” you asked, “For the bakery.”

“Did you recall that song you were humming?”

 “No,” you said, “But I’m sure it will make a great bakery name.”

You curled up into his chest, you were almost asleep. He kissed the top of your head, refusing to succumb to sleep, holding you tightly so that even if this was an elaborate fantasy that his mind had conjured, he was adamant to still make the most of it.

***

After leaving your house to get ready for work, that's when he finally realized that this was real. You were his, and he was yours in a sense that no amount of words could comprehend. You hadn’t put any official labels on your relationship, but the way you moaned his name and breathlessly whispered, “I’m yours. All yours.” multiple times in his ears was enough.

Bucky hated when people called him James, it reminded him of his father, but the way you said his name with adoration filled in your eyes and tone made him content. You made him feel content and happy with everything you did without even realizing it. Bucky hoped he could do the same for you — make you feel at peace.

“I’ve been calling you since morning,” Steve commented the moment Bucky entered his office. He eyed the group of people — Steve, Sam, Clint, Pietro, Wanda, and Peter in his office before exhaling. Although Bucky was their boss, that didn't deter them from treating him like the friend he was. He didn’t mind that either, these people gave him a sense of belonging — a family, and he would give his life for them just like they would for him.

“I was asleep,” Bucky lied. And of course, his friends didn’t buy it.

“I came by your place this morning. You weren't there sleeping,” Steve retorted. He didn’t like how his best friend who he saw as a brother was hiding things from him. 

Fuck, Bucky thought. Admittedly, he wasn't at his place, he was at yours. He didn’t know what to say when six sets of eyes were looking at him expectantly. He couldn’t tell the truth, he wasn't a kiss-and-tell kind of guy. He wanted to avoid telling because you met these people every day, and it would become awkward for you; but mostly he didn’t want anyone to find out because it was so new for him that he was scared to even mention your relationship, terrified of jinxing it. 

Just when he was about to muster up an excuse, a soft knock on his office door snapped everyone’s attention towards the entrance. Bucky’s relief was short-lived the moment he realized it couldn’t be anyone except you. Now everyone was looking at Bucky impatiently, waiting for him to respond. 

If it were anyone else Bucky would have asked them to go away, but it was you. You were knocking at his door. He wanted to see you, see the marks hidden behind the concealer or collar when he sucked your neck a little too hard the previous night and this morning. Mainly, he wanted to see you.

“Come in,” He said, ignoring the stares his friends were giving him. His breath hitched at your sight, you were really breathtaking. You weren't looking at him or anyone in the room. No, you were holding two coffees and a bag of donuts in your hand. Your eyes were focused and you were looking inside the bag, searching for a dish to put his donut in, when you said, “I knew you'd skip breakfast after you left this morning. I brought you -” 

“Y/N,” Wanda cut you off.

Bucky internally thanked Wanda because he didn’t have it in him to stop you from speaking.  And that’s when you finally looked up and were met with seven people staring at you. Sam, Wanda, and Pietro were looking at you with a smirk on their face. Peter looked down at his feet. Clint was clueless and confused. Steve wasn’t looking at you, he was staring at his best pal who lied to him about his whereabouts. And Bucky’s eyes were fixed on you and when yours landed on his, he smiled at you and shook his head, telling you that he got you.

“What are you doing here, Y/N? Your shift doesn’t start till night,” Pietro informed, he was clearly teasing you. And soon a sense of understanding came to Clint’s senses when he joined the dots and his eyes widened before a smirk formed on his lips.

“I… I,” you stuttered. Your brain couldn't come up with an excuse this quickly. Bucky opened his mouth to say something, but you raised your hands and the packet of donuts with it and excitedly said, “I brought doughnuts!”

“Thank you!” Bucky exclaimed, swiftly walking towards you, taking the donuts from your hand, and placing it on the table. He draped his arm around your waist before leading you outside his office. His friends knew now, he wasn’t going to tone down the PDA in front of them. He just didn't want you to feel awkward or under anyone's subjection.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know,” you started once you were away from everyone. “I wouldn’t have if I knew -”

Bucky’s lips landed on yours, stopping your rambling. His arms snaked around your waist, pushing you flush against his chest, and you wrapped your hands around his neck. “It wasn’t your fault,” he mumbled adjacent to your lips and you sighed in relief.

“I just wanted to bring you breakfast since we couldn’t have it,” you pouted, flusteredly thinking about the morning activities that stopped you from having breakfast.

Bucky beamed down at you and planted another soft kiss on your lips. “How about I make it up to you at lunch,” he suggested, “I'll bake something for you too.”

You nodded excitedly and were about to leave when Bucky gently took your wrist in his hand. “Doll, text me when you reach home, yeah?”

***

Bucky dreaded going back into his office, he knew he would be bombarded with questions and knowing smirks. He decided to rip off the band and entered the office. “Okay, go for it, ask away.”

“How long has this been going on?” Steve was the first one to question.

“I mean, officially since last night.”

Sam was about to drop a snarky comment when Pietro chimed in. “Who asked who out?” 

“I asked her out,” Bucky answered, and was bewildered. “Why is that important?” 

“I knew it!” Wanda cheered and raised her hand, palms up, towards the blond. “Pay up,” Pietro grumbled before handling her sister 20 dollars.

“You guys bet on us?” Bucky asked and was met with amused snickers from everyone except Steve. Peter stepped forwards before saying, “I had no part in this, Mr. Barnes.”

The twins rolled their eyes before Steve interjected another one of Sam’s almost snippy comments. “She is the reason you attacked Rumlow, isn't she?”

Sam raised his hands in frustration and turned towards his husband. “Come on, babe. You just had to ruin the fun.”

Bucky exhaled and answered honestly, “Yes, but I can’t tell you why. You just have to take my word for it and trust me that he deserved it.”

“Buck, I’m not saying I don’t trust you, but you have to understand where my fear is coming from,” Steve said, “I know Rumlow and I know he's planning something big. We have to be careful. You can't be distracted by this girl, pal.”

Bucky was furious. He did not expect his best bud to say that. Steve knew how much Bucky pinned for you, he knew how much Bucky wanted you. How could he just say that about you after knowing all of this? “That’s rich coming from you after you told me to be happy.”

Bucky huffed in disbelief, his voice filled with venom. “Well, guess what, pal? She makes me happy.”

Nobody dared to intervene between the childhood friends. Everyone knew that Steve was saying stupid shit out of concern, but Bucky couldn’t see it. Bucky would fight anyone for you, even his best pal.

“You attacked our enemy because of this girl that you’ve been with since what — a day?” Steve scoffed sarcastically, and Bucky’s breath was drawn and his fists balled.

“I attacked him because he-” Bucky cursed himself and inhaled sharply. He couldn’t do this to you, it wasn't his decision to tell. You had decided that nobody would find out about what Rumlow did to you, not even cops, and Bucky respected your decision. He wouldn’t do this to you, especially not out of anger and in front of multiple people you didn't even know.

Before Steve could say something, Bucky’s phone vibrated on the table. A text, Bucky assumed it was you, informing him that you had reached home. You — thinking about you made him take a breath and calmed him a bit. He decided he would text you in the privacy of his office, after his friends would leave. He would text you back or better call you when he wasn’t fuming with rage at his best friend, then he would take you out on a lunch date. 

Bucky was about to reach for his phone when Clint finally spoke up, “Steve, we will be careful, okay? We will contact our sources and find out about Rumlow’s plan.”

All the heads present in the office accepted this decision. Sam scolded Steve and Bucky and made them hug out their issues like kindergarteners. Peter offered to make a drink and everyone made their way downstairs towards the bar, leaving the office and Bucky’s phone unattended.

What Bucky didn’t know was that Rumlow’s plan was already in action, in reality, he had even succeeded in his plan.

If Bucky had checked his phone, then he would have realized it wasn't a text from you, instead, it was a text from an unknown number with an attached photo. The picture was of you tied to a chair, your eyes half-lidded with drugs and tears, and a bruise forming on your left cheek.

TAGS :  @bananapipedreams @akkinda10 @rivers-rambles21​ @emmabarnes @valsworldofcreativity @boofy1998 @marvel-3407 @mybuck @priii @coffeebooksandfandom @ladydmalfoy @shaking-a-jar-of-bees @elizamalfoyy

[redgillan]

Under Pastel Skies - 11

Sugar daddy!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Modern!AU Bucky doesn’t need anyone, especially not a sugar baby. He isn’t that desperate… but she smiles so sweetly and she’s endearingly awkward, and he’s so lonely. She’s an artist, a painter, the type of person who always puts others before herself. Throwing caution to the wind Bucky offers her a place to live, a place where she can finally paint whatever her heart desires. He doesn’t need much in return; a friend, a muse.

Word Count: 6,696

Warnings: Unprotected Sex (non explicit) 

A/N: And finally... Just a word before, and it’s important, I wanted to put the explicit between two ‘*’ but I settled for one at the end because explicit means different things to different people. So whenever it starts to get too steamy for you, skip to the *. Thank you for reading, I appreciate your support!

Wannabe sugar daddies, don’t interact with this post. 

Bucky moved behind the kitchen counter when he heard the door close. You and your guests were in the hallway where you took their coats and asked them to remove their shoes. He took a deep breath to calm himself. He had to stay calm, you depended on him tonight.

“It smells nice in here. What did y-”

Bucky straightened himself up and tried to keep a casual, friendly smile on his face as he came face-to-face with Okoye. He had seen enough pictures of your siblings to recognize them.

She looked surprised to find someone else there. He raised his hand and waved, and she frowned at him in confusion. The rest of the guests stopped short when they saw him waving like a dork. You pushed through them and came to his side.

“Guys, this is my friend, Bucky,” you said. “He’s the one who invited you.”

“Thanks for the invite. I hope you like wine,” Scott said, extending his hand as he walked over to Bucky.

“I sure do.”

Then he shook Wanda and Okoye’s hands, telling them how good it was to finally meet them. Your sisters introduced him to their partners, W’Kabi and Edwin who preferred to be called ‘Viz’.

You led them to the living room while Bucky prepared the drinks. W’Kabi decided to stay behind and help Bucky carry the drinks to the living room. He praised Bucky for having such a nice home.

The conversation seemed to flow easily between your siblings, though as Bucky arrived with your drink, he couldn’t help but notice that you were not participating. You took the glass from his hand, smiled then went back to staring at the coffee table. He sat next to you and rubbed soothing strokes on your arm before he reached for his drink.

Okoye was telling everyone that she had decided to return to New York after King T’Chaka’s passing. His son carried the mantle of the Black Panther, surrounding himself with his father’s Dora Milaje, but Okoye wanted to live closer to her own family.

She was a Dora Milaje, loyal to her king, but she was also a sister, loyal to her family. She felt like there were no good choices, and it ate away at her until her king found a solution to her problem. His little sister, Shuri, was starting her own business in the United States and needed her own bodyguards. Okoye accepted and W’Kabi followed her.

Scott didn’t share much. He showed everyone pictures of his little girl, Cassie, and said he was now working at Baskin-Robbins.

Wanda was evasive about her life and whereabouts. She told everyone that she’d been backpacking across Europe and met Viz, a wealthy businessman, on a beautiful sunny day in Berlin. They’d been attached at the hip ever since.

“And of course, you’re all invited to the wedding,” Wanda said while Okoye admired the ring. “It’s going to be a small wedding. I just need my family.”

“Excuse-me,” you said, standing up abruptly. “I think something’s burning.”

Bucky watched you disappear into the kitchen. He glanced at the group again, no one was paying attention so he followed you into the kitchen.

He found you leaning back against the counter, your arms crossed over your chest, staring into nothing. He walked over to you and pulled you into a one-armed hug that you accepted with a pleased sigh.

“I don’t think I can do this,” you said, your voice muffled against his shirt.

“Is it a code ‘flamingo’?”

“No,” you chuckled, pulling away. You took a deep breath and leaned back against the counter again. “It’s just...”

You huffed, unable to find the words and grabbed him by the waist, seeking his warmth again. Bucky let out a surprised laugh as you squeezed him tightly. He wrapped his arm around your shoulders and pressed you against his chest.

“I know it’s hard,” he said, kissing the crown of your head. “It’ll be over soon, angel.”

Bucky rocked you side to side in a slow, soothing rhythm until you were practically melting against him. He felt you take a deep breath, your nose buried in his chest. He didn’t want the moment to end, but you’d been gone for several minutes now, and the others would barge in the kitchen soon.

He pressed a long kiss to your forehead and gently pushed you away, his arm falling to your waist. You smoothed out the wrinkles you had made in his shirt without looking him in the eye.

He could tell you were thinking about something but before he could ask what was on your mind, you kissed the slight cleft in his chin and quickly moved away from him.

He smiled to himself, his heart beating a little faster.

You were transferring the dinner rolls from the pan to the basket when Scott poked his head into the kitchen. Bucky was still smiling to himself like a lovesick idiot.

“Everything okay?” Scott asked, taking a step closer to you. You turned to him and nodded. “It’s kinda weird, isn’t it?”

“What?”

“Seeing each other again after all this time.” He leaned his forearm on the counter next to you and smelled the bread. “Baby Wanda’s getting married. Did you know they flew me first class? And the hotel is incredible. I feel like a prince.”

“Viz seems very nice.”

“I can’t believe Wanda backpacked through Europe,” Scott scoffed. “She hates camping.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Bucky watched as Scott leaned closer and whispered in your ear. “Listen, I wanted to thank you for everything you did for me and for Cassie-” Bucky quietly left the two of you alone. It was a private conversation and he didn’t want to impose himself.

He finished setting the table, and soon everyone joined in. Bucky was sitting with his back to the kitchen, W’Kabi sitting next to him. You took a seat across from him, Wanda sitting next to you. Okoye sat next to Wanda, facing Scott, and Viz took a seat at the end of the table.

The food was good, and everyone complimented Bucky on his cooking skills. He said that you had helped him a lot, but you refused to take credit for chopping up a bunch of vegetables. You gushed about his cooking skills and his delicious recipes. It made them salivate just thinking about it.

“And your house is amazing,” Scott said with a dreamy look on his face. “A place like that...” he sighed, “that must have cost you an arm and a leg.” The whole room fell silent, and something that sounded like a foot hitting a shin made the table jump. “Ouch, why did yo- oh.”

Okoye was looking at him with the widest pair of eyes Bucky had ever seen. She looked furious and exasperated at the same time. The others stared at their plates as the uncomfortable silence grew.

Bucky glanced at you, not surprised to find you smirking. You knew he lived for moments like these, and you knew he already had the perfect comeback. As he watched you bit your lip, trying to contain a little giggle, he couldn’t help but love you even more.

“It was the original price but I’m a good negotiator,” Bucky said. “Only cost me an arm.”

W’Kabi was the first to laugh at his joke, then the whole table broke into fits of laughter. Scott looked equally amused and relieved.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t-”

“No problem,” Bucky cut him off.

“Can’t take you anywhere,” Okoye said with a smile and a shake of her head. She turned to Bucky as everyone calmed down. “So, Bucky, strange name, uh? What do you do for a living?”

“My name is James, Bucky’s just a nickname.” He wiped his mouth and set the napkin down. “I’m a writer.”

“A pretty good one, judging by your apartment.”

“I’m all right.” He shrugged. “Literally.” Scott snickered at the joke.

“He’s too modest,” you said. “His books are best sellers. They’re autobiographical, he’s very sincere and honest and funny. He has a way of making you laugh about things that are pretty awful.”

“Yeah, we saw that,” Wanda said with a grin. “Are you working on anything at the moment?”

Bucky shifted a little in his seat. “Yeah, it’s uh,” he cleared his throat. “It’s a very important one. I don’t really want to talk about it. Don’t wanna jinx it.”

He wasn’t going to tell your family that he was writing a book about how he fell in love with you. That’d be pretty awkward.

“I understand,” Okoye nodded, then looked at you. “You’ve been really quiet tonight.” You shrugged. “I thought you were still living with Natasha. Do you still work at the hotel? Where is it again? Chelsea? That’s one hell of a commute from Brooklyn.”

“I wasn’t exactly living with Natasha,” you said. “I was crashing on her sofa. And no, I quit six months ago. I’m a full time artist now.”

“That’s great,” Scott said, raising his glass toward you in a silent toast. “How’s that working out for you?”

“Not too bad. Bucky’s friend is a professional photographer. He helped me set up my website. The pictures he took are amazing. I sold a few pieces online but I’m struggling to find gallery representation.”

“Hey, as long as it pays the bills.”

“I don’t really have to worry about bills these days.”

“What do you mean?”

The room got quiet again, and Bucky could feel the tension in the air, buzzing like static electricity. All eyes were suddenly on you, waiting for an explanation. Bucky knew you were not going to lie to them. He locked eyes with you, and braced himself for impact.

You set your fork down and folded your hands in your lap.

“Well, Bucky and I have an arrangement.”

“I don’t like where this is going,” Scott cut you off.

“I’m not going to beat around the bush and I’m not going to use pretty words to make it sounds more appealing,” you continued as if you hadn’t heard him. “He’s my sugar daddy.”

“You’re joking. Please, tell me you’re joking.”

“Nope,” you replied smugly, popping the ‘p’.

A chorus of voices rose in protest. Okoye and Scott were shouting while the others kept glancing around wondering what had just happened. Wanda was strangely quiet next to you.

“Oh, shut up!” you shouted. “You left me alone. All of you. We were all grieving our brother but it doesn’t give you the right to fuck off when things get tough. Do you know how fucking terrifying it was when mom started to lose her memories? Or when the police drove her home at three in the morning after one of her spells? No, you don’t know because you weren’t there.”

Bucky had never seen you so upset before, and he didn’t quite know what to do but he felt like you needed to get it off your chest.

“I didn’t have friends or boyfriends. I went to class, then got home, hoping mom hadn’t set the house on fire. I took the first decent job I could find because she needed a new home and professional help. Without Natasha I would have been homeless.” You turned to Bucky. “I’m so sorry, I’ve ruined dinner. You’ve worked so hard.”

“It’s okay,” he replied immediately. “I’m with you.”

“God, you’re so nice,” you sighed, then turned to your siblings. “See? That’s the kind of person he is. I was lonely and lost, and I found him and he’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. He’s kind and sweet, he’s selfless and generous, and you have no right to criticize our relationship.”

Bucky stared at you, his mouth hanging open a little. Slowly he shook himself out of his trance and reached for your hand on the table. He had no idea you thought so highly of him.

“We needed each other,” you continued. “And I don’t care what you think.”

Dinner was officially ruined but Bucky didn’t care. He smiled at you, soft and reassuring, and let go of your hand when you smiled back. He was proud of you for speaking up, for standing up for yourself.

Bucky noticed Wanda and Viz exchanging looks.

“Okay so, since we’re sharing truth bombs,” Wanda said, shifting a bit in her seat. “I wasn’t really traveling through Europe. I went to Sokovia and after that, everything’s kind of a blur. I did things I’m not proud of. I wanted to forget,” she paused and sighed, “everything. I hit rock bottom, pretty hard, and checked myself into a psychiatric hospital. That’s where I met Viz. He helped me send you those postcards. I screwed up, real bad, but I couldn’t tell you guys the truth. I’m not really proud of myself.”

“I got fired from Baskin-Robbins for yelling at a costumer.”

“Okay!” Okoye exclaimed in her big sister voice. “Enough truth bombs.” She pointed at you. “I’m sorry you had to do this alone, it wasn’t right but we’re here now and we won’t let you down. As for the sugar daddy thing... well you’re a grown woman, you can do whatever you want. Bucky seems like a nice guy.” She turned to Wanda. “We are all dealing with our pain in our own way. I’m not judging you. We’re here for you, Wanda.”

“I know,” Wanda said, sniffing.

“And Scott, stop yelling at people.”

“Yeah, good idea.”

Bucky turned to W’Kabi and Viz who looked proud of their girls, albeit a little uncomfortable with the whole situation. Someone started chuckling, he couldn’t tell who it was, but suddenly the whole table broke into a fit of laughter.

“How about some dessert,” he said. “Then you guys can fill me in on some childhood secrets.”

As he walked away from the table, he heard you warn your siblings to keep their mouths shut. They laughed in response, which made Bucky smile. Surely it’d take more than one outburst at a family dinner to fix your broken bond but it was a good start.

During dessert, he learned that everyone called you ‘Splotchy’ because you painted on the living room walls as a child. He learned that you always wanted to play board games with Okoye. Your favourite one was Mystery Date.

“She had a crush on Tyler, the beach date.”

“No, that’s not true, don’t listen to them.”

When they finally left, you spent a few extra moments hugging everyone. Promises were made, and Bucky couldn’t help but smile as he watched you wave goodbye to your siblings.

It was just the two of you again, and the mountain of dirty dishes and silverware. He told you not to worry about the dishes, but you knew if he went to bed he wouldn't be able to sleep, not when the kitchen was such a mess so you cleaned together.

He loved these moments with you. There was something very peaceful about the night; the dark skies, the soft lights, the quiet apartment, knowing people all around town where getting ready for bed. It used to make him feel tiny and isolated but now, with you, the night didn’t seem so frightening anymore.

A few weeks went by, and things were changing a bit. You spent your Saturday mornings with your sisters, bonding, and facetimed with Scott at least once a week.

Bucky also noticed a subtle change in Sam’s behaviour. He seemed happier and he wondered if his friend had already forgotten Natasha.

It was almost June, and the building’s swimming pool reopened as the weather got warmer. Despite living there for several years, he had never gone near that swimming pool until you dragged him out one scorching afternoon.

The rooftop was surprisingly calm, apart for the group of children playing in the pool. There were people sunbathing around the pool, enjoying a good book, socializing. You dropped your bag on the floor and laid out your towel on the reclining chair.

Bucky had never seen you in a bathing suit before and it caught him completely off guard, but what made him literally growl was seeing the little pendant of your necklace rest against your skin. He didn’t know why but it awoke something in him.

You both slathered on sunscreen before you went for a swim. Bucky recognized a few neighbours, and while they all knew he only had one arm, they had never seen him shirtless before. Bucky didn’t mind their inquisitiveness, as long as you were beside him.

“Do you think the kids peed in the water?” you asked as you rested against the edge of the pool.

“Probably,” Bucky cringed. “When I was a kid, my mom told me that there were chemicals that turned the water a different color when someone pees.”

“Ew,” you laughed.

After a while, he lay out in the sun, enjoying the feel of the sun on his skin. He could still hear you playing water polo with the kids when a shadow passed over him. With a frown, he pushed his sunglasses up onto his forehead.

“It’s nice to see you, James,” his neighbour beamed, taking a seat on your unoccupied chair. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you out here.”

“Hi.” He wasn’t surprised when his voice came out hoarse since he had been on the verge of falling asleep. With the grace of a walrus, he propped himself into a sitting position. “Yes, well, swimming pools are more fun when you’re not alone.”

His neighbour turned to look at you. “Congratulations, by the way. I didn’t know you were seeing someone. Must have been serious if you two moved in together. How long has it been since she moved in? Six months?”

“Seven.”

He knew he should have corrected her, you weren’t his girlfriend, but it felt good. It was just a harmless little lie.

“Does she make you happy?”

“I’m the happiest man on earth,” he replied with a bright smile, then slid his sunglasses back on his face.

His neighbour chuckled quietly. “I can see that!”

When you returned to your seat, his neighbour was gone. You hummed to yourself as you settled into your seat, big droplets of water running down your body. Bucky tilted his head down and peered at you over the top of his sunglasses.

“Where did you get that popsicle?”

“Jealous?” You licked your treat without looking at him. “The kids’ mom gave me one as a thank you for looking after her kids.”

“That looks good.”

“So good.”

“Mind sharing it with me?”

You pursed your lips thoughtfully, then held out your popsicle. As Bucky leaned closer, you pulled it away and jumped to your feet. The look he gave you was one of pure betrayal.

“Oh, angel, you should have never done that.”

He grinned to himself when he saw a shiver run through you. When he stood up, you took a step back. He strutted toward you, his grin predatory. The floor was slippery so you couldn’t go very far.

“Are you ready to share now?”

“No!”  

The popsicle melted down your hand, creating a mess. You turned your arm and licked the drops of popsicle juice from the inside of your wrist. It distracted you long enough for Bucky to wrap his arm around your waist, pulling you against him. You squealed and grabbed him around the neck to keep from falling while also trying not to smush the popsicle against his chest.

You waved the treat in front of his face and he tried to bite off the tip of your popsicle. It made you laugh, your body sagging against him. His face was close to yours. He was so close he could smell the artificial orange scent of your popsicle.

Your laughter died down and your breath caught in your throat when you saw the way he was looking at you. Without thinking, he went for it. He felt your fingers flex against his skin, urging him closer.

His lips were barely a breath away from yours when one of the kids repeatedly slapped your thigh, obviously oblivious to what the two grownups were about to do.

“Come back! We haven’t finished the game,” the kid whined. “Come on!”

Reluctantly, you let go of Bucky and took a step back. Your exhale came out shaky, and in your almost-kiss-induced trance you handed him the popsicle without saying anything before you followed the kid.

You turned back to look at him, one hand sprawled across your stomach, the other across your chest. He knew you were feeling it too: the butterflies, the racing heartbeat, that pleasant heat going through your body.

The difference between like and love.

A week later, he came home to an empty apartment. He climbed the stairs to your studio but you weren’t there. Instead, he found a canvas stretched out smooth and tight on the floor, and several bowls of paint arranged in a semi-circle around it.

He knew you were home, you wouldn’t leave without your phone or bag. Out of curiosity, he went up on the roof and let out a relieved breath when he found you.

You were sitting on the edge of the rooftop with your knees up to your chin and your arms wrapped loosely around your shins. You looked so beautiful in the golden hue of the setting sun.

He stood there, watching you as if he was looking at a painting in a museum. Entranced. You hadn’t noticed him yet, and a quick glance around the roof told him you were alone.  

Slowly, he made his way to you and took in your appearance: a short sleeve white shirt and a pair of denim overalls. The shirt was surprisingly spotless but the overalls were covered in dried paint splatters of different colours.

“I looked everywhere for you,” he spoke softly, trying not to disturb you.

“Did you?”

You straightened up a little but kept your eyes trained on the horizon. Bucky sat close to your feet and let his hand slip under the hem of your jeans to close around your ankle. A sigh slipped past your lips, and he let his fingertips linger for a moment on your smooth skin.

He knew you had a meeting today, and judging by the resigned look on your face, it didn’t go well.

“What’s on your mind, angel?” he said, caressing the top of your foot.

“I was thinking about the night we met. God, I was so nervous,” you said, laughing softly. “I told you that agreeing to meet you was like choosing between a pack of wolves and jumping off a cliff.”

“I remember,” he chuckled.

“I never told you how glad I am that I jumped off that cliff,” you said. “I’d never jumped head first into something, not knowing what was going to happen. Now I think I’m addicted to it. Before I met you, I was living for others. Everything single decision was thoroughly analysed. There was no mystery, fun, or impulsiveness. I put my entire life on hold, and now I see that I can’t do that anymore.”

“What are you going to do?”

You paused, searching for the right words. “I don’t know if I want to turn my passion into a career. Painting is my safe-place, and right now it’s giving me so much anxiety. I haven’t had the inspiration to paint in weeks.” You looked at him and pressed your lips together tightly. “And, if I don’t want to become a full time artist, then I guess our deal is off.”

Bucky stared at you, mouth agape. He really hadn’t seen it coming.

“Please, don’t be angry,” you pleaded. “I don’t want to stop seeing you. When he didn’t answer, you leaned forward and touched his face.

“I could never be angry with you, angel,” he said, kissing the inside of your palm. “I understand, and I’ll help you however I can.”

“I’m not sure yet. I’m still thinking about it.” You looked away from him and stared at the sky. “Do you know that feeling when you stand in a high place and you think about jumping? You don’t want to jump and you don’t do it, but there’s that urge.”

“I think I do.”

“It’s called ‘call of the void’. People say that it’s an affirmation of our will to live. That knowing we’re going to die one day makes us appreciate life even more.” You looked at him. “I want to jump but I can’t. I’m scared.” You lowered your voice. “I don’t want to ruin what we have.”

“You’re scaring me a little. You can’t talk about jumping when we’re sitting on the edge of the roof.”

You chuckled under your breath. “It’s a metaphor.”

“Let’s go home. We’ll make dinner together, put on some music and pretend we’re in a movie.” He got to his feet and held out his hand to you. “Please.”

You took his hand and let him lead you to the staircase.

Once you were inside the apartment, he removed his shoes and you removed yours. Silence settled between the two of you as you entered the kitchen. Bucky moved behind the counter while you stood close to the dining table.

When he chanced a glance at you, he saw you staring into nothing while you played with the charm on your necklace, rolling it back and forth on its chain. You often did that when you were daydreaming.

Bucky walked over to you and placed his hand on top of yours, halting your movements. You let go of the pendant and held his hand instead. He ran his thumb soothingly over your fingers.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he spoke softly.

“If I say it, it’s going to change everything.”

He pressed your joined hands against his chest, over his heart. “No, it’ll make it real.”

He let go of your hand and cupped the side of your face. You leaned closer until you were only inches apart. His thumb traced your cheekbone, then moved to trace the outline of your bottom lip.

He let you come to him, let you take that first step, and when your lips brushed against his, he closed his eyes and sighed. He kissed your parted lips; once, twice, three times, tiny little kisses against your trembling lips.

His kiss grew bolder, turning into something so intimate, so passionate and intense that tears gathered in his eyes. He pressed his mouth more firmly against yours, his large hand still cupping the side of your face. His bad shoulder jutted forward as if his missing arm wanted to touch you.

He let out a groan, frustrated that he only had one hand to finally explore your skin. Sensing his inner turmoil, you held onto his bad shoulder and pulled him against you.

His tongue swept into your mouth, moving in a slow and deliberate rhythm. A growl escaped him and he deepened the kiss, tasting, sliding, retreating and entering again. He poured everything he had into the kiss.

“Bucky,” you moaned after your broke the kiss, breathless.

Hearing his name fall from your lips, your voice hoarse with desire, sparked something inside him. He swiped his thumb over your bottom lip, feeling the softness and collecting the moisture that had gathered there.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said, looking positively entranced. “My pretty angel.”

You pulled him in for another kiss and wrapped your arms around his neck, your slightly cold hands felt amazing against his heated skin. He pressed himself against you, letting you feel the rise and fall of his chest, the desperation in the jerky thrust of his hips.

He needed more but he wasn’t going to force you into anything. He was more than happy to stand here and kiss you for hours. He cupped the back of your neck and rubbed the sensitive skin behind your ear with his thumb.

“I’m yours,” he spoke against your lips, his eyes screwed shut.  

You pulled back to look him in the eye, searching his face. He opened his eyes and you saw nothing but honesty in the depth of his eyes.

You untangled yourself from him and took his hand. Slowly, you took a step back, then another, his hand still in yours. His eyebrows lifted slightly when you bit your bottom lip and gave him a coy look.

He nearly growled again, the wolf inside him eager to touch you, feel you, claim you. He stood taller, his chest puffed out and breathing fast.

You led him up the stairs to the second floor and turned on the light in the corridor. You slowly made your way down the corridor with him behind you.

But instead of turning left towards his bedroom, you turned right into your studio, and it changed everything. Your studio was your sanctuary, your safe place, and knowing that you were about to bare your soul and body to him tamed his inner wolf.

You hesitated at the threshold of the room and glanced over your shoulder to look at him. Bucky squeezed your hand to encourage you.

“I bought some body paint on my way home,” you said, letting go of his hand to step into the room. “I wanted to try something different, something more personal. I wanted to use my body to express my emotions, to create something raw and messy. My interpretation of somatic art therapy.”

You moved around the darkened room; bent down to adjust the canvas on the floor and made sure the bowls of paint were still full.

“I sat there and thought of my mom and Pietro,” you continued, barefoot on the canvas. “I only feel sadness and anger, and I don’t want to create something that makes me feel sad. And I realized the only thing that keeps me inspired is hope.”

Turning to face him, you held your hand out, palm up, and his eyes widened at your silent request. Without thinking twice, he joined you on the canvas. It was both soft and scratchy under his feet.

Bucky watched as you unbuckled the right strap of your overalls and slipped the second strap off your shoulder. You tugged your jeans down your legs and tossed them aside, leaving you in your underwear and white shirt.

Swallowing thickly, Bucky let his eyes travel up and down your body. He had seen you in your bathing suit before but this was different. Then he reached behind his neck and pulled his shirt over his head, baring his strong chest, hard abdomen and marred skin.

The room was dark; the pastel sky, visible from your studio thanks to the floor-to-ceiling windows in the living room, didn’t provide much light. The light was still on in the corridor, casting a faint golden glow over the room.

You took a step forward to examine his scars more carefully and Bucky took that opportunity to kiss you again, slowly, intimately. He peppered kisses along your jaw and down your neck, then went down on his knees in front of you and continued his journey down your body, pressing soft kisses to your stomach.

He accidentally knocked over two bowls of paint; the dark colours spilled out onto the canvas, chasing each other. His kisses made you light up with desire, your moans music to his ears as your hands came down on the back of his head.

When it all became too much, you gently pushed him into a lying position and helped him out of his jeans. His belt buckle made a faint clink when you pulled it open, and Bucky swore out loud when you planted a wet open-mouthed kiss right below his navel.

In the back of his mind, he knew he wasn’t going to survive the night. He let his head fall back against the canvas and closed his eyes shut. Your talented mouth sent sharp jolts of pleasure through him, making it difficult to breathe.

He could feel the paint stick to his back, creating the shape of his upper body on the canvas. It was strangely exciting.

He moaned, arching his back, and slammed his fist down on the canvas. His fist landed in one of the bowls of paint. It splashed paint everywhere. He looked down at you and saw tiny flecks of paint splayed like freckles on one side of your face.

It made you both giggle. As he pushed himself up into a sitting position, Bucky left a print of his forearm on the canvas. You climbed into his lap, straddling him, then removed your shirt and bra. You wrapped your legs around him, one hand on his upper arm, the other hugging his neck.

Bucky was sitting on the canvas with his legs outstretched and slightly bent at the knees. He held you against his chest, rocking back and forth, his arm around the small of your back. You sighed together, sharing the same breath.

“You have the prettiest nose.” You let your index finger run down the length of his nose, your finger wet with paint. “So pretty.”

Laughing softly, he brushed his nose against yours and kissed you. He changed the angle of his thrusts, catching you by surprise.

“Does that feel good, angel?” he asked, lightly biting your jaw. You answered with a short cry. “Look at me.” You slowly opened your eyes, your movements faltered a little. “You’re so beautiful like this. You drive me crazy, y’know that?”

“Bucky,” you cried out.

He felt you shiver when he moved his hand from your back to your face. He cupped the side of your face and you immediately pressed yourself closer to him, craving the warmth of his touch.

He stopped your movements and looked you in the eye. “I’d do anything for you. Anything. You’re my one and only.”

He laid you down as gently and safely as he could, and once you were lying flat on your back, he sprawled between your thighs. He supported his weight on his forearm, careful not to crush you. Your hands slid up his sides, and as your thumb traced over his ribcage, a violent shiver went through his body.

He had never seen anything more beautiful than watching you come apart; your eyebrows furrowed, your lips parted in a silent ‘o’, the way your body shook in little spams. Absolutely stunning.

Exhausted, he collapsed on top of you and hid his face in the crook of your neck. You wrapped your arms around him and slowly caressed his back.

After he kissed his way down the side of your neck, he straightened himself up into a kneeling position and looked down at you. Your naked body was on display, covered in paint and glistening under the moonlight. He wished he could take a picture, immortalize this memory.

*

He helped you up, and after another passionate kiss he led you to his bathroom, the two of you leaving colourful footprints all over the clean floor.

The bathroom's bright fluorescent light was harsh and unforgiving as you looked at each other in the mirror. Yet you were both glowing, streaks and dots of paint covering your bodies. Bucky turned on the water and waited for it to get hot.

He wrapped his arm around you from behind and rested his chin on your shoulder. “We look like we blew up a rainbow,” he said, smiling wide when it made you chuckle.

In the shower, you took turns washing each other, laughing and kissing until the water turned cold. You pushed his hair out of his eyes and smiled sweetly at him.

“We’re going to catch a cold if we stay here.”

“Mhh,” he replied, kissing your temple. “You’re right. There are clean towels on the shelf. Go, I’ll be right behind you, I still need to take care of my scar.”

“Can I help you?”

Asking for help wasn’t something he was comfortable with, especially after years of being babied by his ex-girlfriend, friends and family. After his accident, he couldn’t do anything on his own. He had to rely on others and it made him feel like a burden, like he was incapable of taking care of himself.

He knew it was all in his head but he couldn’t help it.

“It’s not exactly sexy,” he said.

“I don’t care. I want to help. Tell me what to do and I’ll do it.”

Patiently he guided you step by step through the process of cleaning his stump. You inspected his skin thoroughly, looking for irritation or any signs of infection, then washed it with a mild soap.

He had to admit that watching the woman he loved take such good care of his scar made his stomach fill with butterflies. You looked so focused, so attentive, that he could help but smile and try to kiss you.

“Bucky,” you complained, turning your head away, avoiding his kiss. “This is serious business, stop fooling around.”

He almost said it. I love you. But something was holding him back. He didn’t know what would happen next and it scared him. He didn’t want this to be a one-time thing, but he also realized that things were moving too fast.

“Okay, now you’re shivering,” he said, holding you close, trying to share his body heat with you. “Let’s get out of here.”

He wrapped you in a fluffy bathrobe and patted you dry. Then you carefully dried his scar and applied corticosteroid cream to his shoulder, massaging it gently into his skin. He slipped on his robe and you loosely tied the belt at his waist.

“We should talk about what just happened,” you said, playing with the belt. “What does it mean? What are we going to do? Can we-mph”

He cut you off with a kiss, long and hard and filled with passion. You smiled against his lips and finally pulled away.

“Is that how you’re going to shut me up from now on?” you asked with a grin.

“We’ll talk,” he said, pressing his forehead against yours. “But not tonight.”

“When then?”

“Tomorrow, I promise.”

You looked down at your hands on his belt and nodded. He tilted your head up and lowered his mouth to yours.

“Don’t avoid me tomorrow. Please.”

Your words felt like a knife in his heart, and it left him momentarily speechless. He took one of your hands and pressed it against his heart. “No matter what we decide to do, you’re my angel and I’m yours.”

You shared a long, silent hug before you both decided to call it a night. Once he saw the footprints in the corridor, Bucky felt the urge to clean them. He tried to resist but he knew if he didn't clean he wouldn't be able to sleep.

You understood –you always understood. That’s why he felt so comfortable with you.

Once it was clean, he joined you in the kitchen and made you breakfast for dinner, opening the cupboard and pulling out a couple boxes of cereal you didn’t even know he had.

He told you that he was keeping them for a special occasion. He remembered you telling him that it was your favourite meal as a kid, watching TV with your siblings every Sunday night, eating cereals.

“I can’t believe you remembered that,” you said, tears in your eyes.

The two of you sat on your bed, sharing random thoughts and spoonfuls of cereal. You giggled as milk dribbled down his chin and stained his robe. You wiped at the spot on his chin with your thumb and gave him a chaste kiss.

Your lips tasted sweet. Bucky pulled you in for another kiss, discarding the dirty dishes on your bedside table. You helped each other undress, then slid under the covers where you laid your head on Bucky’s chest.

“Bucky,” your voice cut through the quiet. “Do you mind-”

“Don’t worry, my angel, I’ll wait until you fall asleep.”

“Thank you.”

Part 12

[astro-rain]

delicate; b. barnes

chapter thirteen - “sober desires & the reminiscence of a winsome smile”

delicate masterlist

word count: 4k

synopsis: wakanda gets a visit from our favorite captain, two drinks is too much rum for a reticent psychologist, and bucky knows (& feels) more than meets the eye.

pairings: bucky x fem!reader

[A/N]: this took so long to write but WHEW this chapter!!!! pls let me know what you think >:D

The knock on the outside of his hut was followed by a deep accented voice, one that he had heard before.

"Sergeant Barnes?" it called.

Quickly enough Bucky was outside, facing the king of Wakanda himself. He wasn't sure exactly what to say. You see, the majority of their past interactions included the Black Panther trying to kill him. T'Challa was kind and Bucky trusted him. It was just... a little awkward given the history.

"Your highness," he greeted.

He smiled bashfully at the title.

"I have some news for you."

Bucky's head cocked to the side, curious. News? Should he be worried? He hadn't been expecting anything.

"Captain Rogers is on his way here. He was alerted about our recent complication with N'Jadaka," he said, referring to who Bucky guessed was who Y/N called Erik Killmonger, "and he asked to come check in, make sure you're okay."

Steve was coming. His mood was immediately uplifted. He hadn't seen his oldest friend for months. It was weird to have Steve feeling the need to make sure Bucky was okay; it was usually the other way around. Nonetheless, he was excited. And he had the sudden urge to tell Y/N.

- - -

READER

"Sharon. Hey," she said into the phone.

The friends hadn't spoken since Y/N left for Wakanda - security measures since Sharon helped Steve and betrayed the... well everyone.

"Y/N!" Sharon greeted. "How is everything? Are you alright?"

"Yeah, no I'm totally okay. The Killmonger thing was more the royal family's deal than mine. I was just hiding out in some bunker with Barnes."

Concerned weaved its way into Sharon's voice. "Oh my god. Did anything happen?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, historically, stress hasn't affected him well..."

She wasn't sure why she almost got offended. "No... he was completely fine. He doesn't lose control out of nowhere and turn into the winter soldier. It's a lot more complicated than that... We were fine."

"Oh, that's good. Listen... I'm actually on my way to Wakanda right now."

"You're-... what?"

"Steve needed to check in on Bucky after Killmonger. Wilson and I are coming too."

They must all be together. It makes sense considering what happened after the disaster in Berlin, and then the airport fiasco in Germany and then... everything in Siberia.

Aw, they're in hiding together, Y/N joked in her head. She almost laughed out loud.

"Oh. Is that safe? For you? For everyone?"

"I've been careful. We've all been careful. But, things don't always go as planned. And T'Challa feels bad about putting you guys in a dangerous situation when he was supposed to protect you."

"It wasn't his fault."

"I know. We all know. But, it's kind of his way of making up for it: letting us stay so that Steve can check in on Barnes and we can cool off for a bit."

"Was Rogers mad?"

"Well, he wasn't thrilled that his best friend was trapped alone in a country that just got taken over..."

He wasn't alone.

"...he was mostly worried," Sharon continued. "Still is."

"Right."

"Alright, well I got to go. We'll be there in a couple hours."

"I'll see you. Be safe."

"See you."

- - -

BUCKY BARNES

"Hey Buck," the happiness in Steve's voice was genuine as he patted his oldest friend on the back in the middle of an embrace. "How you been?"

"A hell of a lot better than the last time I saw you, that's for damn sure," Bucky smiled.

Sam Wilson stood next to the star spangled man with a plan. Bucky briefly glanced at him.

"Wilson," he deadpanned.

"Barnes," he returned the greeting.

"I was worried when T'Challa told me about Killmonger," Steve said. "Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful that they let you stay here, but I just didn't think I'd have to be worried so soon."

"It's alright. Everything turned out okay and I was fine the whole time. You don't have to lose your head."

"I'm not losing my head."

"You never had it in the first place."

The blonde changed the topic of conversation.

"You were with that therapist right?"

"Yeah."

"What do we think about her?" he asked with equal parts caution and suspicion. "Do you trust her?"

Bucky wasn't sure why he was almost offended.

"Of course. Why wouldn't I?"

"Well, you know what happened the last time you were with a psychiatrist..."

"Yeah well, this one doesn't have a personal vendetta against the Avengers."

"You sure she's alright?"

He looked serious, and Bucky could see the genuine concern etched into his friend's face. Steve was truly wary.

"I'm positive. She's helped so much since I've been here. I really trust her."

"Okay, if you say so. I trust you."

Bucky smirked. "Hey uh... is Sharon with you?"

Sam said nothing but radiated a smirk to match Bucky's perfectly, a kind of smirk that only a ball-busting best friend cracks.

"She is..." Steve replied. "Why do you ask?"

"Oh nothing. Just wondering, that's all."

"She said she wanted to talk to a friend."

"Oh, she's probably with Y/N."

"Who?"

"Y/N. Dr. Y/L/N. 'The therapist.'"

"I didn't know they were friends."

"Why do you think Sharon recommended her?"

"She said she knew 'the best' person to help."

"That true. She's crazy smart."

"As long as she can do the job, I'm all for it, no matter whose friend she is."

In a short-lived thought, Bucky wondered what Steve Rogers would think of who else Y/N was friends with. He wondered if Steve would think it was strange to be friends with your doctor, or if he'd be pleased that Bucky had gotten close to someone, anyone else in this world.

"How long are you guys staying for?" Bucky asked.

Steve rubbed the back of his neck anxiously. "Honestly, we were only planning on staying for like a week or so. We've been moving throughout Europe, and the other day, when we were in Prague... it was almost really bad."

"We need to stay low for a while," Sam added.

"What did you do?" Bucky asked, used to Steve getting himself into trouble.

"It's a long story..."

"What did T'Challa say about it?"

"He said to take as much time as we needed," Steve filled him in.

"You know, I'm startin' to really like this guy," Sam nodded, smiling. "Obviously when he went all cat murderer on you, he was a bit of a pain in the ass. But now? Guardian angel."

Bucky shook his head at Sam's nonsense. What an idiot, he thought. He wondered what Y/N would think of Sam, but then a more pressing question popped into his head.

"Where are you guys gonna stay?"

"I'm guessing there," Steve said pointing behind Bucky.

When he turned around, Bucky was shocked but he also wasn't. Behind and around his hut stood three more just like it, but slightly smaller. He could've sworn those weren't there yesterday, but that's the beauty of Wakanda. They were ten steps ahead of the rest of the world and he guessed that included speed building as well.

"I will never stop loving this place," he admired.

-

He tried not to sound too eager when he knocked on her door. She looked shocked but didn't really try to hide it.

"Oh," she sounded confused. "Hi, Bucky..."

"Hey," he grinned. "I have a proposition for you."

Her eyebrows lowered as her lips twisted into the most devilish smirk. She could communicate an entire joke with just her face.

"Not like that!" he exclaimed.

She laughed, smirk morphing into an endearing smile. "Like what then?"

"Steve wanted to have like a bonfire sorta thing to catch up since we're all together for once. You know, just like drinks and stupid stories from the forties. D'ya think you could part with your paper work to grace us with your presence?"

"Oh, uh... are you sure?"

"Of course. I'd love to have you there."

She wrung out her hands. "I don't know, Buck. Is that really appropriate? To have your doctor hangin' out with your friends?"

"That may be, but that's not what I'm asking. I want my friend to 'hang out' with my other friends."

Out of her composure seeped a meek smile. The air felt softer to him.

"And maybe you can analyze Wilson and tell me what his biggest fear is later," he added.

She snickered.

"Okay. Lead the way, James Buchanan."

-

The fire was a monster, roaring and crackling with all the life in the world. Bucky loved it. He loved the warmth, the heat, the lack of cold.

"I'm gonna get another drink," Y/N said. "You want anything, Buck?"

"I'm all set," he smiled, gaze lingering for only a second too long.

"Sharon?" she turned. "You?"

The blonde shook her head. "Oh, I think I've had plenty."

Surrounding the fire sat five chairs. All but one was empty as Y/N went to get her second drink. Of course they were in Sam's hut, Bucky thought. After all, even though it was Steve's idea, Sam was most excited about the whole thing, actually sitting down and just relaxing instead of fleeing from belligerent governments.

"Therapist's pretty," Sam noted with a smirk once she was out of hearing range.

"Y/N," Bucky corrected, mind going completely elsewhere. "She's so smart."

"Smart enough to call you Buck..." Steve said, catching on to Sam.

"What?"

"She calls you Buck."

"Yeah, so? You do too."

"Yeah, but I've known you longer. And I'm your friend."

"She's my friend too," he shrugged.

"She's your doctor..."

"And I'm a hundred year old man with one arm trying to get un-brainwashed in a country that the rest of the world doesn't even know exists. None of this is conventional."

"...fair," Steve said, with only a little bit of skepticism. "Are you guys close?"

Does spending hours alone talking with someone in a hidden bunker make you close? Does them comforting you after a nightmare and then subsequently allowing you to get the best night sleep you've had in forever? What about making daring voyages to quaint waterfalls and laughing a kind of laugh that makes your heart swell? What about-

"Buck?"

He shrugged. Again. "I guess so."

Sam narrowed his eyebrows. "How close?"

"Wilson," Sharon admonished exasperatedly. "Y/L/N's his doctor, come on. That's inappropriate to suggest."

Sam put his hands up in mock surrender. Briefly, just briefly, Bucky imagined kicking the leg of Sam's chair and watching him fall back. He didn't, obviously. But it would have been funny if he did.

The seemingly never ending conversation was cut short when Y/N returned, drink in hand, and took her seat next to Bucky.

"What'd you get?" he asked, demeanor subtly but swiftly changing into something lighter, something happier.

"I don't know, but it has rum in it," she shrugged sardonically before clinking her glass with Bucky's.

"Cheers," Sam raised his glass, trying to engage.

Y/N wordlessly, and with a half-smile, raised her glass in his direction.

"So," Steve started, comfortably crossing his legs and leaning back into his chair before asking Bucky, "you wanna know what actually happened in Prague?"

"Do enlighten me. I've been waiting all night."

"Jerk."

"Punk."

The rest of the night went on sort of like this. The group took turns telling stories and then listening. Cracking jokes and then laughing. Everyone but Y/N, Bucky noticed. She just... sat and drank, livelihood only extending to the borders of her seat.

He hadn't seen her like this before, and he found himself stuck halfway between confused and worried. Had something happened? Had something wrong been said?

He kept an eye on her as dusk melted into night. He told himself it was because he was concerned, but that was only in addition to the way he was magnetized to how she looked with the light of the fire gleaming on her skin.

After she would finish a drink, she'd stare into the fire for a little while, before leaving to get another. When he made sure no one was looking at him, he'd look at her. Discretely. At her eyes. The reflection of the fire in her pupils made him wonder if she would burn the fire before it could ever burn her. He was all too aware of the heat that accompanied her gaze. It was a ravishing burn that made him ache for the searing feeling as soon as it was taken away.

He didn't dare think of it for too long or else he would get distracted. And someone would call his name, pulling him out of a trance he didn't want to be caught in. A trance he wasn't sure he wanted to admit that he was in.

The night remained as such until someone - he couldn't remember who - said they were tired, and everyone bid their farewells, and wished their good nights.

Y/N spared about a side hug to Sharon before walking off on her own. Bucky half volunteered, half insisted on tending to the fire to make sure it went out, only to ignore it as soon as everyone was gone and follow after his psychologist.

He caught up to her as she was in the middle of opening the door to her living quarters.

"Y/N."

She turned around in the spot, door wide open, staring up at him.

He bore into her eyes, looking at something, noticing her dilated pupils and hazy stare.

"You're drunk," he said, but it sounded more like a question.

"Yeah."

"But you don't seem drunk?"

"I'm not wasted," she padded into the room, carelessly leaving the door wide open for him to walk through. "Just drunk enough to remember why I didn't drink in college."

She rubbed her eyes.

"Think I want another one," she sighed, heading for the door with a bitter smile. "More rum."

Bucky gently closed the door, maneuvering himself in front of it, and blocking her from exiting. Another drink is definitely not a good idea.

He changed the subject. "Why didn't you drink in college?"

Her eyebrows raised, introducing a look that said Really? You think I don't know what you're doing?

"Wow, look at you being the voice of reason for my otherwise inebriated brain."

Nevertheless, she cooperated.

She sighed. "It just... makes me miserable. I'm a sad drunk."

"Better than a mean drunk," he offered.

"Possibly. It's a real mood killer, though."

"That why you were off all night?"

"Off... ? I don't know, I guess so... I'm usually pretty inconspicuous when I'm drunk. Didn't think anyone would really notice."

There was no hesitation when he spoke.

"I did."

"I'm sorry..."

"Don't be sorry. Just... why did you keep drinking if it only makes you miserable?"

"Alcohol is a depressant," she breathed mechanically, as if speaking was difficult. "It depresses your nervous system, then you get disinhibited. Then you don't care about rationality and just drink! Then in the moment it feels kinda good... but then it makes you sad... and then you need more to blur the feeling away. It's like... the worse you feel, the more you need to drink... but then the more you drink... the worse you feel..."

"How are you drunk but still talking... sorta still like you usually do?"

She smirked, looking like she was trying not to laugh. He was glad she was smiling.

"Maybe you're not the only one with heightened metabolism as a result of the serum..."

He looked at her quizzically, amused. She wasn't making total sense, but he couldn't find it in himself to give much of a damn. She smiled, again.

"Kidding. I just have outstanding self-control."

She plopped down on the floor, deciding that she no longer wanted to use her legs. Fine motor function was overrated for intoxicated people.

He sat down with her, next to her.

"If I tell you a joke will you be less sad-drunk?"

"I already am 'less sad-drunk.' I wasn't before, but," she took a breath in, "now you're here, so... improvements have been made."

"That's good 'cause I was worried before."

She glanced up at him with brazen eye contact. Her face held a mixture of what looked like a confused and pained expression, as something changed. Some sort of realization or reality check.

She wiped her hands over her face. "God, this is so ridiculous. I'm sorry. You shouldn't be worried about me, that's not your job. I'm sorry. I should just go to bed, and you can leave..."

"I know it's not my job. I just wanted to make sure you were alright."

"I was alright- it... it's not like I was crying at the fire or something. I was fine."

"After your second drink, you were silent almost the entire time."

"You were counting my drinks?"

Not exactly.

"I was paying attention."

"To what?"

To you.

"You completely turned into yourself. Your elbows and legs were drawn in close to your body: unrelaxed and almost apprehensive posture. You were nonverbal, didn't make any jokes, no sarcastic commentary. I was literally purposefully saying things I knew you would correct or tease or laugh at and nothing. I was waiting for a 'smartass' or a 'there's a reason behind everything' explanation or anything science related. But there was nothing."

Her face was blank. It took her a second to catch up. Blinking slowly, she shook her head, eyebrows furrowed, all emphasis on the word. "Why?"

Her tone was truly confused. It was like she, in her heart of hearts, for the life of her, could not believe he was concerned.

"Y/N you're my friend," he chided. "Why wouldn't I be?"

She averted her gaze. Her voice was barely above a whisper. "I don't know."

"Look," his voice was soft. "I know you know everything and you know my mannerisms and micro-expressions and you know when I'm lying and whatever else 'cause you're a genius psychologist. But is it really that hard to believe that, after all the time we've known each other, I know you a little too? That I saw you for once instead of you always seein' me?"

"I think you're the only person who sees me."

The words leaked out before he thought to analyze them, tone lower than a whisper.

"Well I can't seem to look at much else."

He had never felt such potent silence. Did he just fuck up majorly? They just sat, on the floor, eyes glued to each other like twenty year old dried cement. He didn't think he could move away if he tried.

"I see you now," she whispered.

"What do you mean?"

"Blue," she breathed. "Your eyes are so blue. I don't... think I've ever seen that shade of blue."

It happened exponentially slowly, but the closer her face got to his, the more his chest felt like it was going to burst in the best way possible. As if liquid light poured into his lungs, inflating his chest and igniting every nerve with adoration.

Her lips hovered over his so lightly it was as if it wasn't even happening, like her affection was a ghost. But it was happening, and he could feel it. He could feel the softness in her lips and the smell of the rum she drank as they combined into the wondrous dual sensation that permeated throughout his brain.

They weren't kissing by any stretch. Their lips were hardly touching. However, in that moment, he was at her mercy. He was prepared to bend the laws of nature to her will if she would allow the continuation of this feeling for even a fraction of a second more.

Until it stopped and she waned away like the moon bidding adieu to the morning sky.

Her voice shook. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't... it's-"

"No. It's not okay. It's not okay."

He leaned back, examining her face. She looked confused and embarrassed and scared.

"Y/N, it's fine. It's okay, seriously, don't worry about it."

"I'm sorry, I'm... I'm drunk and I'm disinhibited and it's affecting my judgement and making me impulsive. I'm sorry."

He couldn't be exactly sure, but it sounded as if she was trying to convince herself more than she was trying to convince him.

Neither of them moved a muscle.

"Do you want me to leave?" he asked.

She was silent, frozen. It reminded him of a past conversation about the fight or flight response.

Bucky stood up and offered his hand to the woman sitting on the floor in front of him. "Here."

She took it gingerly and stood up with him before wide eyes stared into his apologetically.

"Please don't feel bad," he pleaded. "Barely anything happened."

"Still..."

"Why don't you just get some sleep and we can talk tomorrow. I promise it won't seem like such a big deal when you're sober."

She nodded but they both remained motionless, hands still together. He knew they needed to let go, but her hand didn't move, and she just kept looking into him.

"Okay," she whispered.

She walked him to the door, hand still in hand, and until he was forced to let go of her to open it. He stepped, ever so slowly, out of her room and onto the grass outside. He looked up at her, the doorway between them suddenly feeling like worlds of distance. They stood on opposite sides of the open door like statues. Bucky didn't know what to do and he wasn't sure what to say.

He settled on a, "Goodnight."

He tried not to make it sound so weak and timorous but he failed entirely. He didn't want to leave her like this. Guilty and alone. God knows he knew what it felt like.

Her voice was dry and quiet. "Goodnight."

He wasn't sure when the door shut or which one of them had shut it. The only thing he was sure of was the feeling of formidable regret pooling in his stomach.

On one hand, there was regret for letting her lean in and get so close because now he was scared that their dynamic was ruined and worried that Y/N felt awful. On the other hand, there was regret that he just let her pull away. Regret that he didn't lean in more and shamelessly drown in her. Regret that he didn't unapologetically suffocate himself with the softness of lips, the inebriating smell of rum on on her tongue, and the utterly bewitching taste of her he was sure would follow.

He wasn't sure what he felt, to be honest. He was a muddle of emotions of which he had no idea how to sift through. Momentarily, he wished he was drunk so he wouldn't have to think so hard. Then, he remembered the saying, "drunk words are sober thoughts," and he was damn glad he was stone cold sober; he could only imagine the things he would say to her if he was drunk.

This lead him to pondering, it got the gears in his brain turning. It made him wonder. Maybe... just maybe... if drunk words were sober thoughts, then what if drunk actions were sober desires?

Thinking like this could cause him read the situation completely differently. Thinking like this could make him read the situation in such a way that conceived the slightest sliver of hope for emotions gone repressed. Hope is dangerous...

Hope is dangerous, so Bucky shoved it down into the deepest cavern of his brain, the very same cavern where his feelings for her resided. It was a monster in a cave, growling and hissing menacingly. Intensely.

It scared him, this intensity. It scared him so much that the only way he could fall asleep was by thinking about the way James Buchanan sounded when she said it with a winsome smile.

delicate taglist: ​@bakugouswh0r3 @thefridgeismybestie @strivingforelegance @ilovespideyyy @xpurpleglitter @bluelakeee @darkacademic2 @nickkie1129 @eclipsedplanet @paradisedixon @crazy-beautiful @coffee--writes @lilithknight1111 @buckybarnesishot310 @softladyhours @alwayssandy @quxxnxfhxll @those-sea-green-eyes @hero-ically @devilswaldorf

[mads-weasley]

Legacy Pt. 3: The Final Session

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Series Masterlist

A/N: I’ve really enjoyed writing this series so far! I hope y’all are enjoying it! Sadly, I do not own any of these wonderful characters other than (y/n)! This one is pretty short because I needed to get to the end of episode two! Enjoy!

Summary: Meeting Sam and Bucky in Baltimore, you have yet another confrontation with John Walker. Bucky realizes that you might have to turn to an old foe in order to get information about the new super soldiers running around Europe.

Warnings: fighting, mentions of blood, angst, fluff, typical cannon violence

(y/n) - your name

(y/l/n) - your last name

(y/n/n) - your nickname

(y/h/c) - your hair color

Italics - flashbacks

Arriving in Baltimore, you become increasingly worried about Bucky. What was going to happen? There’s no way he can go to jail. Even though your head was killing you, Bucky was worth it. Bursting through the Police station doors, you see Sam sitting on a chair in the waiting room.

“Sam! What happened? Why are you in Baltimore?” You frantically spouted out, sitting next to him.

He went on to explain what happened and who Isaiah was, then told you what happened with the police. About the time he was finished, your head was hurting worse so you closed your eyes. Your doctors didn’t want to let you go from the hospital but they technically couldn’t stop you.

Sleep welcomed you quickly.

Sam gently nudged you, waking you up, and pointed at something. Your eyes lit up when you saw two officers leading Bucky down a long hallway towards you. A smile spread across your face as he came closer to the two of you. He looked miserable, and you wanted nothing but to hug him and say everything would be okay; not just about this, but everything else your trio was dealing with. A familiar voice pulls your gaze off of Bucky.

“Sam. I’ve heard a lot about you. I’m Dr. Raynor. I’m James’ therapist.”

She looks over to you. “Hello Ms. (y/l/n).”

You nod and say hello back. Sam stands up to greet her.

“So nice to meet you. Thank you for getting him out.” Sam says.

Looking at you, she responds, “That was not me.”

Immediately after the words leave her mouth, you hear a disgustingly familiar voice.

“Christina! It’s great to see you again.” Craptain America says as he’s taking a selfie with a fan.

“You gotta be kidding me. You know him?” You state, getting up from your chair with a grunt.

She lets out tiny huff of air, “Yeah, we did some field ops back in the day.”

Walker approaches the three of you. “I heard you were working with Bucky, so I thought I’d step in. Bucky’s not going to be following a strict schedule any longer.”

Dr. Raynor snarks back, looking very annoyed, “We haven’t finished our work. Who authorized this?”

All he does in response is point to himself, making you roll your eyes. A buzzer sounds from behind you, and the four of you turn to see Bucky walking into the room.

Walker starts talking again out of the blue, “He’s too valuable of an asset to have tied up.”

Asset. Bucky being called that meant that Walker only saw him as a weapon to be used, like Hydra. Angry, you turn towards him and point your finger in his face.

“Don’t you ever call him that again. He’s not just a weapon at your disposal.”

Walker just smirks and steps towards you.

“There’s that temper I like so much......among other things. You should join my team. We’d sure have a lot of.....fun.” His eyes looked you up and down at the last word.

With fury running through your veins, you launch yourself at him only to feel two strong arms pulling you back by your waist. Looking down, you could see gloved hands; Bucky.

“Stop, doll. It’s okay. You’re okay. Hold on.” Bucky gently pushed you behind him, getting up in Walker’s face, seething.

“You stay the hell away from her. If I catch you doing anything, you’ll wish that that girl killed you on the truck.”

“Is that a threat?”

“No. It’s a promise.”

Walker backs up slightly, looking to Dr. Raynor who is just watching the scene from the background.

“Doc, just do whatever you’ve got to do and send off to me. Got some unfinished business, him and I. You too, (y/l/n) and Wilson. I’ll be outside.”

Bucky turns around and takes your hand in his. You’re about to walk out of the room when Dr. Raynor speaks up. “James, condition of your release, session now. You too, Sam.”

Sam tries to get out of it, “That’s okay, I’ll be out here with-“

“That wasn’t a request.”

You try and walk with them but she stops you. “Sorry, (y/n). They need to work some things out by themselves.” Nodding, you go back to sit down. Bucky gives you an apologetic look before going into a room with Sam and Raynor.

After a few minutes, Sam walks out, but you don’t see Bucky. A few moments later, he silently joins the two.

Walking outside, Sam breaks the silence. “Well, I feel better.”

Bucky responds, deadpan, “I feel awful.”

What? Why does he feel awful? A million thoughts run through your head, trying to figure out what could have transpired in that room.

A loud police siren and lights to your left gets your attention. “Great,” you whisper. “Guys!” Walker yells, leaning against the cop car and waving you over.” Sensing your apprehension, Bucky puts his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him. Taking a deep breath, the three of you start walking towards him and Lamar.

“Look,” Walker starts, “If we divide ourselves, we don’t stand a chance, you guys know that.”

Bucky walks and leans on a nearby cop car, trying to keep his cool. You walk next to him and rest your hand in his. He looks down at you, a soft smile curling his lips, causing your heart to flutter.

Sam, being the only one even listening to the conversation, asks, “So, what have you got?”

“Well, the leader’s name’s Karli Morganthau. We’ve been targeting civilians who’ve been helping Karli move from place to place.”

It’s now Lamar’s turn to speak. “They geotagged the location, then scrambled the signal...”

You soon lose interest in the conversation and let your mind wander. It quickly settles on Bucky and your kiss. What did it mean? Are you together? Was it just a kiss with nothing behind it? You doubted that, but the thought still crept into your head. You’d definitely have to talk about what it meant. Shaking away your thoughts, you hear Bucky pipe up for the first time in the conversation.

“Well, there are hundreds of those all over the planet since The Blip, so I guess you’ll have to look real hard.”

“Good thing I have 20/20 vision, huh?” Walker retorts, glancing quickly at you without Bucky noticing.

“Where is she now, Walker? Do you know?” You ask, annoyed.

He raises his voice at you, practically yelling, “No, we don’t know, (y/n). It’s only a matter of time before we find out.”

Bucky takes a step in front of you protectively. “Things are really intense for you, aren’t they, Walker?” You could tell he was about to explode from his pure hatred for the man.

“Take it easy. Look, Walker’s right,” Sam chides in, “It is imperative that we find them and stop them. But you guys have rules of engagement and all kind of authorizations you have to get. We’re free agents. We’re more flexible. So it wouldn’t make sense for us to work with you.”

Nodding in agreement, Bucky takes his place next to you as your trio starts to walk away. You think the conversation is over until you hear Walker threaten, “A word of advice, then. Stay the hell out of my way.” He and Lamar turn and walk away, leaving you three staring.

“Okay. Wow. He’s psycho!” You exclaim, throwing your hands into the air, forgetting your left arm was in a sling. Wincing, Bucky looks at you with concern but you just wave him off. He quietly chuckles at your overdramatized gesture and puts his hand around your waist. “So it finally happened, I take it?” Sam asks with a smirk. You merely raise your shoulders and continue walking with Bucky.

After a few seconds, Sam catches up to you and Bucky, asking, “So what are you thinking?”

“I don’t know, Sam.” You reply, disheartened.

“Well, I know what we have to do. When Isaiah said “my people-“” Bucky starts but Sam interrupts him.

“Oh, don’t take that to heart. That’s not what he meant.”

“No, he meant Hydra. Hydra used to be my people.”

Realizing where he was going with this, you put your hand on his chest, stopping his movements, and look him in the eyes. “Absolutely not, Buck.”

“Doll, Walker doesn’t have any leads.”

Sam catches on as well. “I know where you’re going with this, no.”

“He knows all of Hydra’s secrets. Don’t you remember Siberia?”

You think back to that crazy day and the last time Bucky was the Winter Soldier. “How could I forget?” You whisper under your breath. That was the day you lost everything and went on the run with Sam, Steve, and Sharon. The last time Bucky was around the guy, he turned him into the Winter Soldier! How could he possibly think this is a good idea. Sam just happens to read your mind.

“So you're just gonna go sit in a room with this guy? He asks.

Hesitantly, Bucky replies, “Yes.”

“Okay then,” you state, “We’re going to see Zemo.”

Tag List:

@confusednerd09 @ahahafudge @bluemoon-icecream @lunamadhatter99 @thatfangirl42 @fionanovasleftnut @youcanstandundermyamberella

[heloisedaphnebrightmore]

Best Christmas Present [Sirius Black x Reader] - Heloise’s Christmas Calendar - Requested

December 18 - Best Christmas Present [Sirius Black x Reader]

Title: Best Christmas Present Pairing: Sirius Black x Female!Reader   Word count: 3.1k   Published: 18 December, 2020   Author: Heloise Daphne Brightmore   Notes: This is part of Heloise’s Christmas Calendar.   Summary: Sirius goes back to you after he has escaped Azkaban. But when he finds you with a son, he wants nothing but to escape the heartbreak, not even listening to your explanation.  Request: [x] - Anonymous

“When you have time could you please do a Sirius X Reader, where he meets his Girlfriend again.Obviously He is afraid that she might have a new man in her Life,...At one day she arrives at Grimmauldplace with her son (Looks Like her) and Sirius Heart Breaks into pieces, while she has to explain that it is his son. #drama :)”

Heloise’s Christmas Calendar Masterlist

Harry Potter Characters Masterlist | Masterlists

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You were running up and down in the kitchen, from the stove to the fridge, from the cupboards to the table. You were preparing the dinner for Christmas Eve, a chaotic tension running through you as you tried to keep yourself organised. As Albert Einstein, a muggle scientist said in a book you’ve read; “Order is for idiots, genius can handle chaos”. You prided yourself in always getting things done, even in the midst of all the unfortunate events that could possibly occur.

Your mince pies were all done, still cooling down on the top of the counter with your Yorkshire puddings chilling beside them. Mulled wine brewed on one side of the stove, whilst the turkey slowly cooked in the oven. You chopped up your ingredients for the perfect roast potatoes and placed them in the oven, right above the turkey.

You always preferred cooking the old-fashioned, muggle way, no magical touch until the washing up. But at times, you found it calming and tossed your wand aside, thinking your day through whilst doing the dishes.

Christmas music blasted from the background, an old muggle radio playing the most popular Christmas songs. Traditional English Christmas dinner was cooking in the kitchen, traditional Christmas songs playing in your living room, traditional Christmas stocking hanging above the fireplace, traditional Christmas tree standing in the corner of the room decorated in red, gold and green.

You loved Christmas and since you haven’t been alone for a long time, it was always a special day for you to celebrate it to the best of your abilities, mixing old traditions with new traditions, muggle word with wizarding world.

You heard the knocker on your door, making you frown as you looked up at the giant antique clock above the entrance of the kitchen. You still had about two hours before the order members were supposed to arrive. The turkey and the potato were still in the oven, your mulled wine only halfway finished sitting on the stove.

You walked across the hall, peaking into the living room with a small smile on your face as you headed to the black, wooden entrance door of your flat. You looked through the peephole, but there was noone outside. You opened the door reluctantly, hand on your wand, tucked inside your back pocket as you peaked out of the tiny gap between the door and its frame.

Your eyes widened in surprise as you recognised the man in front of you. His hair grew longer, his face got skinnier, his body exposed under the white button up shirt, covered in tattoos you have not seen before. You loudly gasped at the sight of the man as you opened the door wider in your shocked state.

“Hey-” he greeted you with a shy smile, one that you were not used to from the proudest, most confident man you have ever met. But that was 13 years ago, before his incarceration in Azkaban.

“Sirius.” You breathed, your lips and tongue unable to cooperate with the hundreds of questions swirling around in your confused mind.

You were both standing in the door awkwardly, none of you saying a word. You couldn’t make a coherent sentence and Sirius didn’t dare to interrupt you from processing the situation.

You felt your heartbeat in your throat, your palms sweating as you held onto the doorknob. You watched the man you once loved more than your own life, standing right in front of you and now you didn’t know what to say, what to do, you didn’t even know where to put your hands in your shocked state.

You knew he escaped Azkaban, it wasn’t a secret. You knew he was in hiding, Remus told you what happened in Hogwarts, but he never came looking for you and you thought you would never see him again. Noone knew where he was, only that he left Europe.

Thinking he forgot about you was easier than to face him and getting rejected after waiting for him for so long. So you stayed still. Deep down you wished your thoughts were simply a game your mind was playing against you, but now that he stood in front of you, you didn’t even dare to breathe, afraid of scaring the man away.

“I’m sorry, come in.” The words rolled off your tongue without your knowledge, your head was in a different space. Sirius smiled lightly as he stepped inside and waited for you to walk him wherever you could talk. You headed towards the kitchen, offering him a chair as you walked to the stove and stirred your mulled wine absentmindedly. “I knew you escaped, but you never showed.” You blurted it out as the spoon fell out of your hand, onto the stove. You didn’t care about the cutlery, you turned around, your gaze firmly fixed on his grey eyes, ones that you always found to be his unique trait.

“I wanted to, but-“ he cut himself off, trying to search for the right words. Both of you were afraid of saying something wrong, dancing on the edge of every word that left your lips.

“You were scared.” He nodded as you finished his sentence.

“I was scared that you had- someone else in your life. That- maybe you didn’t-“ his words didn’t seem to come easy and if anyone, you understood the best. You were struggling with what to say and even how to say it.

“-love you anymore?” You finished his sentence once again, making him smile lightly.

“Yes.” He breathed in a silent whisper, his words inaudible, but you could read the word of his lips.

“Mom.” A young teenage boy ran out of the living room with an envelope in his hands, a carbon copy of you. Same hair colour, same facial structure, even to the last little mole, he was a boyish version of you. “We got a letter from Uncle Remus.” He shouted as he ran up to you, his hand holding the envelope up, reaching towards you.

Your eyes widened as you looked at the boy, before your gaze wandered to the man seated across the table. A shaky breath left your lungs as you took the envelope from the boy and engulfed him in a hug, hinting a small kiss on the top of his head. “Mom!” He whined, trying to get out of your hold, making you chuckle. You let go of him as he turned around, his gaze meeting with Sirius’.

The man looked shocked beyond belief, his lips widely parted, his eyes dilated, his hands grabbing the side of the table, making his fingers paler by the second. He scoffed as his eyes grew even wider and stood up from the table ready to leave.

“James, can you please go to the living room?” You asked your son, although reluctantly but he headed to the other room.

“You named him James?” Sirius turned back with a dumbfounded expression.

“Yes, of course.” You replied with a deep frown, clear confusion sitting across your face. “Sirius, please sit back and let’s talk.”

“What else do you want to talk about?” He shook his head as he headed towards the door, his back hunched, his jaw clenched. “I never understood why Remus kept nagging me to see you. I knew it was a bad idea and I was right all along. I shouldn’t have listened to him, I shouldn’t have come here.” He stated weakly, his voice breaking.

“Sirius can you just stop for a second and listen to me?” You asked as he reached for the doorknob, but you took your wand out and as soon as he opened the door, you closed it right back. “I promise you, if you don’t like what you hear, I will let you go, and we will never ever search for you.” You replied as the tears started rushing down your reddened cheeks. “But let me tell you what’s going on before you come to any wrong conclusions.” You choked as you tried to keep your sobs down, before the only person you have ever loved disappeared from your life once again.

“What do you want to talk about?” He asked weakly, pulling on the doorknob, but it didn’t budge. “I couldn’t possibly ask you to wait for 13 years and even if I can’t show it at the moment, I am happy for you for moving on, for finding someone you love, for building a family, but please let me out.” He was pleading for you to let him go, but you didn’t give in.

“Sirius, can you please look at me?” You asked the man who stood with his back to you, his hands painfully holding the doorknob in his grasp. A deep, loud sigh left his lungs as he turned around, his jaw clenched tight, his eyes glistening of the unshed tears. You took a couple of steps forward to get closer to him but kept a safe distance in case he was ready to leave by the end of what you were about to reveal. “I haven’t had anyone since you.” You confessed, as you watched the man frown in confusion, before his eyes grew wide in surprise.

“What? But your son-“ he began, but his words stuck in him, his mouth agape.

“He is 12 years old.” You nodded in confirmation.

“He is my-“ Sirius started once again, but he was incapable of finishing a coherent sentence, his heart beating at a dangerous speed, his head a mess of confused thoughts.

“Yes, he is yours.” You nodded robotically, trying to refrain yourself from showing anymore emotions. You wanted to jump into his neck and kiss him, you wanted to bring out your son to introduce them to each other, but deep down you were terrified he would reject both his son and you.

You never talked about family back then and whilst you loved each other passionately, warmly, sweetly, you never knew how he would react if you announced that you were expecting his baby.

“I wanted to tell you, before all those horrible events happened, but I kept pushing it further and further, afraid of losing you, scared that you wouldn’t want the baby. By the time I felt ready to speak to you, everything came down crumbling and we lost Lily and James, whilst you were sent to Azkaban and Remus was struggling to even make enough money to live. It was- a terrible time.” You exhaled as you looked down on the dark carpet covering your hallway, reliving that horrible night and all the events that followed after. Your tears started again, rolling down your cheeks, soaking your skin in the salty liquid. Your breath hitched before you could continue.

“I knew you escaped, I knew you were hiding somewhere, noone knew where. Although even if I knew, I wouldn’t have gone to look for you. I thought you wouldn’t want to see me, that you forgot about me and whilst it breaks my heart to think about it, if that’s the case, I accept that. But I need you to tell me that you don’t want us, otherwise I will keep hoping.” Your voice broke as you finished your monologue, hoping for the man in front of you to say that he needed you, that he wanted his son, that he couldn’t be happier to be beside you.

“I thought you already had someone else. I never thought you’d be waiting.” He shook his head, stunned.

“I was. I was waiting for you, Sirius, even if at times I thought you would never leave that hellhole, even if at times it was terrifying to be a single mom, even if at times I thought I would never see your face again. I was waiting even when you escaped, even when I thought you didn’t think of me anymore.” You confessed with a small smile playing in the corner of your lips. The fact that he was still standing in front of you, instead of running away, made you feel hopeful.

“I never forgot about you, I was just scared to search for you and turn your life upside down, especially when I thought you have moved on already. There wasn’t a day I didn’t think of you, but I had to shove it into the back of my mind. I’m a fugitive, I’m wanted, the ministry is looking for me. I couldn’t just come to you.” He stepped closer, placing his hand on your cheek, caressing your skin with his slightly calloused thumb. He leaned closer, placing a small kiss on your forehead, not daring to make the next step just yet.

He heaved a deep sigh, leaning his forehead against yours. You enjoyed the silent breaths between you, the calm atmosphere. Noone of you dared to step over the boundaries, even if both of you needed to be closer to each other.

You took a deep breath, before you exhaled shakily. “You know, he knows who you are.” Sirius knew what you meant without another word. “I wanted him to know his father.” You couldn’t read Sirius’ expression, but you were hoping it wouldn’t be the moment he leaves. “Do you want to meet him? Properly?” You asked, but before you let him answer you continued. “I don’t want to pressure you. If you need time to think, that’s perfectly fine.” You added quickly.

“I want to meet him.” He smiled softly, a nerves knot sitting in the pit of his stomach. You got hold of his hand, the feeling of his long fingers folding around your hand making you nostalgic and somewhat giddy. You walked him towards the living room, both of you halting in the doorway, watching James seated in front of the Christmas tree with a photo of a younger Sirius in his hand.

“James?” You called your son, making him jump. He looked up at you, before his eyes wandered to Sirius, studying the man. “Can you come here, please?” You asked and the boy stood up, walking over to you. James faced Sirius, both of them studying each other with a curious gaze.

“He is my dad, isn’t he?” He asked, looking up at you with the identical grey eyes his father had, his gaze questioning. You nodded in a reply, watching as he reached his hand towards Sirius, who accepted it with a proud smile. “I’m James.” He introduced himself.

“I’m Sirius.” He replied with a nod.

“Is he staying?” James asked as he looked up at you waiting for a reply. Your stomach jumped at the thought, but you didn’t know how to reply. You turned to Sirius for an answer.

A wider smile started spreading across his face as he squeezed your hand, which you still didn’t let go of, completely forgetting about how natural it felt to be connected with him. “If you let me, that would be amazing.” Sirius replied confidently, making you let out a single laughter.

“I would love that.” You smiled happily. “Can I leave the two of you alone until I try to save the food from burning?” You asked with a silent chuckle. Both of the boys nodded confidently, waiting for you to leave. They watched you with eager eyes as you looked back at them, making sure that everything was going well.

You quickly headed to the kitchen, pulling out the roasted potatoes and turkey from the oven, slightly burned, but still edible enough. You placed the trays on top of the unoccupied part of the stove and removed the mulled wine from the fire, before turning it off. You tried to work as fast as you could, impatiently wanting to head back to your boys. Seeing them together was like a dream come true and you felt like you were still dreaming. You needed to see them again as soon as possible to be able to believe it was all happening to you.

You rushed back to the living room as soon as you finished and leaned against the doorframe watching as Sirius and James talked about quidditch, both with a childlike enthusiasm across their face. It was an idyllic moment you cherished dearly, the two most important men in your life bonding over their common interests. You never wanted to step out of that sweet reality you found yourself in.

“No, that’s not true. I will show you the best broomstick.” James exclaimed as he started off towards his room with a wide smile across his face, almost shoving you out of the way, before shouting a quick ‘sorry’ to you.

“He is an amazing kid.” Sirius stated with a cheerful grin across his face as he waved you over to the couch.

“I know, I tried to do my best.” You nodded in agreement as you took a seat beside Sirius.

“You did a fantastic job, love.” He beamed, his gaze warm and loving, just like all those years ago, capturing your complete focus, his pet name for you rolling off his tongue just as smoothly as all those years ago.

“Are you really staying?” You asked. “At least for a while?”

“I don’t ever want to leave you or James again.” He sighed deeply. “I still love you just as much as before, if not more and I want nothing more than to get to know my son. Our son.” He lifted his hand, caressing your face. “I want to be with you again. I want to support you and make up for the time we lost.” He leaned his forehead against yours, closing his eyes, enjoying the moment with you.

You didn’t want to wait longer, nor could you do so. You closed the gap between you, attaching your lips to his, wrapping your arms around his neck as his hands sneaked around your waist.

It was just as perfect and exciting as you remembered, if not better and you didn’t want to let go of him for as long as you could keep him in your arms. So many memories resurfaced whilst his lips moved against your, all the moments you have shared appearing to you like a happy little montage.

“Come on, Mom!” You heard James’ annoyed voice and you quickly parted from Sirius, both of you slightly panting from the passionate kiss.

“Sorry.” You chuckled as you watched his deformed expression, a disgusted grimace sitting across his face, before it slowly turned into a small smile.

“I’m glad we are all together, but keep that behind closed doors.” James whined, making you giggle as he sat down in front of the couch on the carpet, showing his broomstick to Sirius. He threw his arm around your shoulder, pulling you into his side, hinting a kiss on top of your head.

The food got cold and was slightly burned by the time the guests arrived, but you were the happiest person in that moment, and nothing could ruin it. Your family being together for the first time was the best Christmas present you could ever wish for.

Notes: If you enjoyed reading this little piece, please don’t forget to leave a like, comment and/or reblog. Your opinion matters and gives us motivation. Thank you ^^

Harry Potter general taglist: @inkhearthes @hufflefluff-writer @fific7 @haphazardhufflepuff @kalimagik @accio-rogers @harrypotter289 @nebulablakemurphy @iliveiloveiwrite @mytreec @chaoticgirl04 @idont-knowrn @mayaaa-l @imboredandneedalife @pregnant-piggy @prongsies @holdupwhat @ravenclea @kashishwrites @izzytheninja @timogtrrz @wassup-peoples @levylovegood @msmimimerton @bbeauttyybbx @kiwi-sloan @moatsnow @pandaxnienke @chloer1275​ @sreidswhore​ 

Christmas Calendar taglist: @a-classic-eye

Harry Potter - Marauders era taglist: @susceptible-but-siriusexual

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[fruitcoops]

Could you maybe write a “73 questions with Sirius Black” Vogue one? Or something like that.

Yes! I had never seen these videos before and it was a fun challenge to write. Hope you enjoy! Sweater Weather credit goes to @lumosinlove!

The house is large, two stories tall and painted a soft gray with white trim around the windows. Holiday lights have yet to be taken down and shine in all colors of the rainbow from the eaves as the camera crew walks up the front steps. The curtains in the window tremble for a moment, then a dog pokes her head through—she is all-black and curious, and looks quite large.

Dorcas Meadowes knocks on the front door; a moment later, it swings open and reveals Sirius Black. “Hey, guys, come on in! You can leave your shoes by the door inside.”

“Thanks, Sirius.” Dorcas kicks off her flats and follows him inside as he sets a dish towel on the end table and leans against it. “How are you today?”

“I’m doing pretty well. Morning practice was productive and I’m feeling good about our upcoming game.”

“We’re here today to ask you 73 rapid-fire questions while you lead us around. Sound good?”

“Sounds good. You can all come inside instead of freezing on the porch,” he laughs, waving them closer. The door shuts with a gentle click.

“First question: on a scale of 1-10, how excited are you about life right now?”

“Hmmm. A solid seven.”

“Do you have any pets?”

“I do!” Sirius leads them into the other room, where the dog is curled up on the couch below the window; he picks her up and gives her a kiss on the head. “This is Hattie and I love her very much.”

“Cute! If you could do a dramatic love scene in a movie with anyone, who would it be?”

Sirius sets the dog down and thinks for a second. “Aside from my fiancé, I’m going to say James Potter. We would kill it and I don’t think it would be that awkward.”

“What’s the origin of your name?”

“Pretty much my whole family has star-themed names. Sirius is the dog star from Canis Major.”

“Brightest star in the sky, too. What’s one thing people don’t know about you?”

“I’m an introvert. Lots of people assume that I’m super social because of my job, but I’m very quiet in real life.” He walks back out to the entrance and takes the towel off the table, then moves into the kitchen. It’s well-lit and painted a deep, warm red. The countertop is scattered with knickknacks and picture frames—clearly, this is a place people spend a lot of time. Hattie, who followed them in, lays down by the oven with a heavy sigh.

“What’s your wakeup ritual?”

Sirius reaches up and pulls two mugs out of the cupboard. “I wake up around seven am and make coffee while Re is in the shower, then rinse off and get dressed while he makes breakfast. It’s a good system. Want some tea?”

“Sure. What’s your bedtime ritual?”

“I don’t think I have one,” he says as he puts the kettle on and ignites a burner on the stove. “Usually we read or watch a movie, then go up to bed and talk for a while. There’s not a big routine or anything.”

“Sounds nice. What’s your favorite time of day?” Dorcas sits on the other side of the kitchen island while he takes a box of peppermint tea down.

“That’s a tough one. I like the in-between spots, like just after sunrise or dusk. Three in the afternoon is usually pretty chill as well. Does anyone else want a cup?”

There are a few murmurs behind the camera and he takes two more down. “What is one thing no one knows about you?” Dorcas asks.

He raises an eyebrow. “If I told you, everyone would know, and it wouldn’t count.”

“Fair enough. Dream country to visit?”

“Anywhere. I think I want to go to Ireland first, though.” Small wisps of steam begin curling out of the kettle, but it doesn’t whistle.

“Do you ever feel pressure to post things on social media?”

Sirius makes a face. “I used to. Eventually I just got tired of it, you know? The whole point of social media is sharing bits of your life with people and it makes me happy to show off my dog, or Re, or my friends. I post things just for fun now.”

The kettle begins to hiss and he reaches back to turn it off. “Sneakers or skates?”

“Skates.”

“Vintage or new?

“Vintage, especially for t-shirts and sweaters.”

“Who is your biggest role model?”

“Pascal Dumais.” Sirius stops pouring for a moment to look up at the camera. “If you ever get a chance to meet him, listen to what he has to say. You’ll be better for it.”

“Wise words. How do you deal with negativity? Oh, thank you.” Dorcas wraps her hands around the mug and takes a small sip while Sirius passes the other ones to the crew.

“Honestly? I don’t give a shit. It used to really bother me, but I’m happy, I have a job I love, and my family cares about me. Why should I care what people I’ve never met think of me?” He sits on the counter and rests his elbows on his knees, blowing on the hot water.

“What are three things you can’t live without?”

“My dog, Remus, and my family.” There is no hesitation in his voice.

“Not hockey?”

“I’d be devastated if I couldn’t play, sure, but it’s not the central focus of my life anymore.”

“What’s one ingredient you put in everything?”

“Does salt count?” He winces as he takes a drink. “Ugh, burned my tongue. I put salt on a lot of things because I drink so much water that it throws my balance off.”

“What is something you’re completely bored of right now?”

Sirius rolls his eyes. “Gossip columns and tabloids in general.”

Dorcas hums in agreement. “What’s your biggest fear in life?”

“Losing my loved ones.”

“Window or aisle seat?”

“Window. Anyone walking by always steps on my foot or hits my elbow if I’m in the aisle. Plus, I get a good view and an easy nap spot.”

“What’s your current TV obsession?”

“Avatar: The Last Airbender, which I’m watching for the third time already.” He shakes his head. “It’s just so good.”

“Favorite app?”

He takes a second to think. “Spotify.”

“Secret talent?”

Sirius looks at her over the rim over his cup. “This is going to shock you. Ready?”

“Ready.”

“Hockey.”

“You’re the worst.” Despite her words, Dorcas smiles. “What the most adventurous thing you’ve done in your life?”

“Uh, probably going to Europe with some of the guys last year. We had a lot of fun, but it was crazy.”

“I can imagine it was. How would you define yourself in three words?”

“Tall, dark, and handsome.”

“And apparently not humble,” Dorcas teases. “Favorite piece of clothing?”

“Hoodies.”

“Clothing item everyone should have?”

“Hoodies.”

A door opens behind them and the camera turns; Remus walks out of the basement, covered in sweat as he wipes his forehead with the hem of his shirt and holds his skates in his other hand. “Baby, have you seen…” he trails off when he sees the group of people in the kitchen. Hattie’s tail thumps on the floor. “Um. Hello.”

“Hey, Remus, how are you doing?” Dorcas asks mildly.

The camera pans out to catch both Sirius, who is laughing quietly, and Remus, who flushes pink. “I’m good. I thought you were coming at ten?”

“It’s ten-thirty, sweetheart,” Sirius says, hiding his smile in his tea.

Remus glances at the clock before giving an awkward nod and walking toward the stairs. “I guess I’ll take a shower, then. Sorry about that. Uh, carry on.”

“What’s a superpower you would want?” Dorcas asks as soon as he disappears.

Sirius shakes his head with a grin. “Uh, teleportation. That would be really cool.”

“What’s inspiring you in life right now?”

“Ah, une grande question.” He thinks, then tilts his head toward the staircase. “Moments like that. And the Stanley Cup, of course.” He reaches back and knocks on the wooden cupboard.

“What cause is closest to your heart?”

“LGBT+ rights, especially trans rights. I’m privileged enough to have a platform and I intend to be loud as hell about that.”

“Good.” Dorcas sets her almost-empty mug on the table. “What’s one thing you’d say to your teenage self?”

Sirius lets out a long breath and drums his hands on the light blue ceramic of his cup. “I would say…it gets better. It really, really does. You’re going to feel super shitty for just a little bit longer, but then I promise you will be so incredibly happy that you wake up every morning and it hits you all over again.”

Dorcas nods, and the kitchen is quiet for a moment. “What’s a book that everyone should read?”

“The Hobbit, by J.R.R Tolkien.”

“What would you like to be remembered for?”

“This is going to sound so corny, but I want to be remembered for just being a good person.”

“That’s not corny. How do you define beauty?”

“Remus Lupin.”

“That’s corny,” she laughs, making him smile. “What do you love most about your body?”

“I’m a big guy, which can be a little bit intimidating, but it means I give really great hugs. I’m sure everyone saw the video that went around a while ago.”

“Cap Cuddles?”

He snorts. “Right. You’ve got Finn O’Hara to thank for that.”

“In your opinion, what’s the best way to take a rest or decompress?”

“Being alone,” Sirius says. “There is literally nothing better than getting home and sitting down with a book or something while I can hear Re doing his own thing and Hattie’s napping. It’s one of my favorite parts of the afternoon.”

“That’s the most introverted thing you’ve ever said.” Dorcas grins and finishes her tea just as a faint beeping noise begins in another room. “What’s your favorite way to experience art?”

“Through music, for sure.” He slides off the counter and walks down the hall, leading them toward the laundry room. He gives the camera crew a look as he pulls dry clothes out of the machine and heads back to the living room. “What? Did you think I didn’t do my own laundry?”

“You lost a sock,” Dorcas informs him, picking it off the ground and laying it on top of his head.

“Thanks, D.”

“What question do people ask that you wish they wouldn’t?”

“Lots of people have asked me when I decided to be gay, which is wrong on so many levels.”

“If you could master one instrument, what would it be?”

“Guitar or piano.” He dumps the load of laundry on the couch and opens the back door, holding it for the crew as they walk out into the sunshine. Hattie weaves through their legs and disappears into the bushes along the back.

“I might have to take your dog home with me. If you had a tattoo, where would it be?”

Sirius mock-glares at her. “Let me have my girl! Um, I would love to have a tattoo somewhere on my arm.”

“This might be a hard one. Dolphins or koalas?”

“Oh, that is hard. Probably dolphins. The ocean is terrifying but those little guys are just having a blast.”

“What’s the best gift you’ve ever received?” Dorcas asks as he picks up a tennis ball and throws it across the yard. Hattie emerges from the bushes and races after it in a blur of black fur.

“An engagement ring.”

“Yeah, it was.” Remus walks into the backyard and kisses Sirius’ cheek before bending down to catch Hattie in his arms. His hair is still damp from the shower. “Hello, sweet girl!”

“Who’s your favorite musician?”

“Queen.” Sirius laughs at her surprised look. “I’m gay, what did you expect?”

“True. What’s your favorite board game?”

“Monopoly.” Remus and Hattie disappear from the frame, but the bouncing sound of the tennis ball creates some background noise and Sirius watches them for a moment with pure affection.

“Favorite color?”

“Blue.”

“Least favorite color?”

“Orange.”

“Bowties or knot ties?”

He frowns. “Don’t they all have knots?”

“Smartass.”

“Yep! Uh, regular ties.”

“Bowties are superior!” Remus calls.

“Get your own questions!” Sirius laughs.

“Going off your music answers: records or CDs?”

“I don’t own a lot of records, so I’m going to have to go with CDs. I love the way vinyl sounds, though.” His eyes widen as he looks to the side. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” Remus wheezes. “I didn’t need those ribs anyway.”

“For the viewers, the dog just football-tackled him into the grass,” Sirius says, and Dorcas snorts.

“Your hair is famously luscious. Blow-dry or air-dry?”

“Air dry.”

“Coffee or tea?”

“Coffee, but tea is nice in the evenings.”

“What’s the weirdest word in the English language?”

Sirius laughs. “There are so many. Uh, ‘jeez’ is the one that comes to mind first.”

“What about the French language?”

“Oiseaux,” he says in a crisp accent. “It means ‘birds’, and you pronounce about three of the actual letters.”

“Good to know. Do you prefer dark chocolate or milk chocolate?”

“Dark chocolate.”

“Stairs or elevators?”

“Elevators. I don’t want to walk up three floors after playing hockey for two and a half hours.”

“Summer or winter?”

Sirius bites his lip in thought as they walk around the yard, where small flowers line the fence in beds and colorful pots. “I love summer because I have actual free time to be with my friends, but winter is hockey season. I don’t know, next question.”

“What’s a dessert you don’t like?”

“I’m not a huge fan of caramel. It’s too sticky.”

“A skill you’re working on mastering?”

“Will you ban me from more interviews if I say hockey?”

“Yes.”

“In that case, I’m working on keeping plants alive, as you can probably see.” He taps the nearest flowerpot gently with his foot; it has ‘Harry’ painted across it in sloppy blue letters. “My godson made that for my birthday.”

“What’s the best thing to happen to you today?”

“This, for sure,” he says with a smile. “I haven’t seen you and Marley in ages.”

“We missed you, too. What’s the worst thing that happened to you today?”

He pouts slightly. “Burning my tongue on tea.”

“Hugs or kisses?”

“Hugs! Though I’ll accept kisses from a few very specific people.”

“Do you have a favorite smell?”

He pauses and cranes his neck to look behind the cameras. “Re?”

“Yeah?”

“What shampoo do you use?”

“Uhhh…” There’s a moment of quiet. “It’s something with lavender, I think.”

Sirius turns back to Dorcas. “Something with lavender.”

“How specific,” she laughs. “What’s the best compliment you’ve ever received?”

He smiles to himself. “There was a young woman, maybe sixteen or seventeen, that came to one of the games earlier this season. I saw her standing with a puck and went over, and while I was signing it she looks at me and says, ‘you are exactly what I wish my older brother was like’. Turns out, she was bisexual and her brother wasn’t super accepting of her. That was…” He shakes his head. “That meant the world to me. I’ll never forget it.”

“You’ve definitely made a big impact on the community,” Dorcas agrees. “What’s the last piece of content you consumed that made you cry?”

“I watched ‘Soul’ the other night and almost had to pause it at one point to pull myself together.”

“Do you prefer animated movies or live-action?”

“Animated, mostly because I wasn’t allowed to watch Disney movies as a kid, so I’ve been catching up as an adult and they rock.”

“What’s your nerdiest quality?

“I love watching documentaries.”

“Sweet or savory?” The back door creaks a bit as they walk back inside and the camera catches a few frames of Hattie and Remus running around the yard together.

“Sweet.”

“In ten years, you have a daughter. What age do you let her date?”

Sirius gives Dorcas a look. “Whenever she wants to. I’m going to impose curfews and stuff, but I’m the last person on the planet to police her love life.”

“Good answer. What’s a song you can listen to on repeat?”

“Don’t Stop Me Now by Queen. Absolute banger.”

“If you could switch lives with someone for a day, who would it be?”

“Arthur Weasley,” he says after a moment. “I would love to know what it feels like to get up in the morning and know you’re about to spend another day wrangling our team. It’s a miracle he hasn’t killed us all with his clipboard.”

“How do you know you’re in love?”

“Oh.” Sirius blinks at her in surprise at the sudden topic change. “Well, for me, I think it’s just…being comfortable around someone. Being able to spend time with them without saying anything and knowing you’re safe, no matter what. It’s the best feeling in the world.”

“What are you most excited about at this time in your life?”

A slight smile crinkles his eyes. “Getting married. That’s going to be awesome.”

“Who is your go-to for having a good laugh?”

“James Potter. He’s the best, and I love him.”

“Last question,” Dorcas says, sliding her list into her pocket. “Many LGBT+ people, especially teenagers, have spoken about how you’re an inspiration. Any words for them?”

Sirius hums in thought. “First of all, thank you for being so open and welcoming. I would never have expected the sheer force of people’s love to come through like that when so many people were saying horrible things. Second, to any kids out there who need to hear it: I’m proud of you. It takes a lot to be true to yourself and even if you’re still in the closet, you’re just as valid as the rest of us. Stay proud.”

“That’s a wrap.” Dorcas gives him a quick hug that he happily returns. “Thanks for letting us crash your morning, Cap.”

“Any time. Thanks for tuning in to Lion Pride, everyone!”

[princess-of-riviaa]

Dark Minx: Touching the Asset

Training the Asset

Showing the Asset

Pairing: slight Hydra!Steve x OFC (Larisa Antonov), James Barnes x OFC (Larisa Antonov)

Summary: Larisa’s jealousy of James’s sudden success comes to a boiling point.

Warning(s): angsty angst, (sort of) FWB!Steve, Hydra!Steve, James is very good at pretending he knows what he’s doing, dirty talk, fingering, oral (F receiving), slight pain kink (hair pulling), fluff

Word Count: 2.4k

Larisa heard the reports whispered between guards in the hallways of Hydra’s base: “The Asset took the Dark Minx’s lessons to another level,” “I never would have pegged The Winter Soldier for the seducing type, but he seemed to do pretty well on his last mission,” “The Winter Soldier is making a new name for himself through Europe with all the women he’s been with.” Larisa knew not to be surprised by this, and deep down, she knew she wasn’t. But she couldn’t ignore the pang in her chest that came with every word spoken about The Asset these days. That wet, bitter feeling in her chest was foreign. She had no idea what it was, only that she hated it. The feeling made her angry. In the weeks that followed The Asset’s first mission since their training lessons, Larisa’s temper stayed on a short leash. She found herself snapping at those around her more often. But no one called her out on it.

Until Steve found himself in her chamber one day, balls deep inside of her. She clenched the sheets between her fingers as he fucked her from behind. The occasional slap of his hand against her ass made her cry out wantonly, but she was otherwise silent. She couldn’t stop thinking about James fucking those nameless women on his missions. Was he rough with them, the way Steve was with her now? Or was he gentle, slow, teasing? Did he lose himself in their bodies, in the way they stretched around his cock? Did those women make him moan and cry out with ecstasy, the way she longed to do?

Larisa was so lost in her torturous thoughts that she didn’t realize Steve had stopped fucking her until the bed shifted with the absence of his weight. She watched him clean himself up. His gaze was curious as he stared at her.

“How often have you been thinking about him fucking you?” he asked suddenly.

Larisa froze. Was she really that easy to read? “I don’t… I don’t know what you’re—”

“You said his name when I was inside of you,” Steve pointed out. Upon seeing Larisa’s eyes widen, he shrugged and added, “I could care less about who’s name you cry out when we fuck. This is transactional to both of us, an itch we both need to scratch.”

Yes, that had been the deal they’d made almost a year ago now. When they needed a release and Steve wasn’t going to find it on a mission, or Larisa with a soldier she was training, they could come to each other. No strings attached. Just sex. Rough, wild, animalistic sex—exactly what they both craved deep down.

Steve went on, “I’m only saying this because I’d rather have you around than not: but be careful. If any of our commanders find out your relationship to The Asset is more than what it’s supposed to be—if they catch word that there’s any sort of emotions involved, they’ll get rid of both of you.” They’ll kill you, is what he didn’t say. “It would be a pain in my ass to find someone else in this place who fucks as good as you do, so try not to let that happen.”

Larisa didn’t know what to say. That was the closest to “nice” that Steve had ever been with her. His edges were all rough, his personality a rough callous. “Sentimental” wasn’t a word she would use to describe him. Yet here he was, warning her to stay out of trouble. Telling her that he would miss her.

“Here I was thinking Hydra’s Golden Boy didn’t have a heart,” she finally remarked in an attempt to lighten the mood.

Steve didn’t take the bait, but the look in his eyes said enough. He really would be upset if something happened to her.

She admitted in a quiet voice, “You know that all of that… I’d say the same to you.” She was bad at this, at talking about emotions, at letting herself care about someone. She didn’t really know how to put it into words.

But from the look in his eyes, she knew that Steve heard what she wasn’t able to say. “Until next time,” he said, and then left.

…

“It’s been decided that you’ve more than excelled in everything that I can teach you,” Larisa said to James the next day. She didn’t look him in the eye, nor did she speak to him in the soft tone she usually reserved for him. In fact, she hadn’t uncrossed her arms since he’d entered her room. “So we won’t be seeing each other anymore.”

“Oh.” Was that… disappointment in his voice?

No. She was reading into things. And even if he was disappointed… it didn’t matter. She’d barely see him after today. Whatever they had was done.

“What did I do wrong?” James asked after a minute of tense silence.

She looked at him for the first time today. God, he was beautiful. She would miss being this close to him every day. But she couldn’t find it in herself to say anything, not when opening her mouth would just bring trouble.

“You’re acting strange,” James noted, taking a step towards where she leaned against the wall. “You’re not normally like this.” He swallowed. “Not around me, at least.”

She looked away from him, bringing her eyes to the floor.

“What did I do wrong?” he repeated.

“Nothing.” Her voice was thick with bitterness. “You did it all perfectly. You fucked those women just like you were supposed to.”

James blinked. “Wait—is this about my missions?”

She didn’t say anything. The look on her face was answer enough, though.

He took another step towards her. His stride was long enough that he closed the distance between them, and suddenly his hand was on her cheek, his thumb brushing along the line of her jaw in a gentle caress. She wanted to lean into it. She wanted to cry.

“Are you… jealous?” he finally asked.

“No!” she said too quickly, glaring at him.

He raised an eyebrow, not believing her for a second. “You sound jealous. You look it, too.”

Her face burned enough that she couldn’t find words.

“You’re jealous of those women,” he realized, “because you want me to fuck you.”

She swallowed. If she opened her mouth now, all bets were off. She’d give into her desire and that… that wouldn’t end well.

But then James’s face was buried in the crook of her neck, and his hands were on her hips, and her vision grew blurry as her heart shot to her throat. “I’ve wanted you since that first day,” he confessed, his words a caress against her skin. “Long before you ever touched me for the first time. It scared me—how much I wanted you, the things I would do to have you. Let me have you, Larisa. Please.”

She tried to push him away, but as soon as her hands pressed against his stomach, she couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything but bask in the warmth radiating off of him. “We can’t—”

“Give me a bad report, tell whoever you have to that my skills aren’t sufficient enough for you to stop training me.” He brushed his mouth against the space between her ear and neck and it took everything inside of her to keep from moaning. “Because one way or another, I’m coming back here tomorrow. And the next day. Now that I know you want me back, Larisa, I’m not leaving you alone.”

“James…” It came out as more of a moan than a whine of protest.

“Let me make love to you,” he breathed against her skin. “Let me touch you. I want to make you feel good. I want to make you cum again and again, until you can’t breathe. Until you can’t even see straight.”

Now she was definitely moaning.

He circled his thumbs around her hips, suddenly antsy to touch her somewhere else. “Can I touch you, Larisa?”

“Please.” The word was out of her mouth before she could stop it, and she didn’t have a chance to take it back before his hand was between her legs.

He leaned his forehead against her own. Their shaking breaths morphed into one as her entire body burned with heat. James moved his hand in circles over her clothed core, providing just enough pressure for her hips to start bucking up with need.

“I want you so bad,” he breathed against her skin.

She moaned. “What do you want?”

“To fuck you. To make you scream my name until your voice is hoarse,” he answered as he leaned down—not to kiss her, but to tug her bottom lip between his teeth.

Her hands jumped to his shoulders in a desperate attempt to pull him even closer to her. She had no doubt that her desperation was written all over her face. She wondered if that was what made James catch his breath and curse in another language—Russian, she had learned a few weeks ago. It was the language he reverted back to when arousal clouded his mind past the point of speaking coherently. And the fact that he was thinking it now…

She pulled him in for a kiss. It was quick and needy and messy, a mix of tongue and teeth and shaking breaths. And when he moved to pull away, to kiss down her neck, she pulled him back to her mouth. Because if she didn’t, if she gave herself a chance to speak… She knew exactly what she would say. She would beg him to fuck her. And that would… complicate things, to say the least. So they continued to kiss until her lips were swollen and she was drunk on the taste of him.

When he finally pulled away, it was quick. He was on his knees before she could stop him. He kept his gaze on her as he tugged her pants down, and that darkness in his eyes…

“Fuck,” she gasped, practically whimpered.

He only looked away from her when he was face to face with her sex. James really did figure out the proper way to touch a woman, because he dragged two fingers between her folds with expertise, knowing the exact pressure to apply to her clit as he started to rub it.

Larisa threw her head back. The moan she released could barely be muffled by the hand she clamped over her mouth.

“You’re so wet for me, fuck,” James breathed. And then he shoved a finger inside of her. He looked up at her as he started to finger her, watching her face closely as he increased his pace before backing off and changing to a teasingly slow tempo. “You’re so fucking sexy, Larisa. You have no idea how many times I’ve thought about doing this to you—about making you come undone from just my fingers.”

She began to grind her hips against his finger, desperate for him to increase his pace.

“I want you to cum all over my face,” he told her as he threw her leg over his shoulder, and then his mouth was on her clit and—

“James!” she cried out, her eyes squeezing shut as her mouth fell open.

She’d been fucked by plenty of skilled men before, but this time was different. All of those men… none of them had mattered. She hadn’t cared about any of them. But James… she cared about him, whether she was ready to admit it or not. And that made this so much more intense.

If she thought James had skilled fingers, it was nothing compared to his mouth. He moved his tongue between her folds and along her clit as if he’d spent years doing this, as if he already knew every spot to touch to push her all over the edge. He latched his hands around her hips, pulling her sex even tighter against his face, as if he felt that same desperation that she did—the desperate need to get infinitely closer to him. The sound of his eager tongue lapping up her juices filled the room, followed by her breathy moans and his lustful groans.

She didn’t realize she’d dug her hands into his hair until his moans grew louder. Oh, he likes that. She tugged at his roots slightly. James moaned wantonly in response. His mouth was suddenly ferocious against her pussy and she felt that delicious heat in her core grow. She was close. She was so fucking close.

“James,” she gasped. “I’m gonna... fuck, I’m gonna cum!”

He breathed something against her clit in Russian. The vibration of his voice against her heat was the final straw. He continued to eagerly eat her out as she came, soaking his face with her arousal. She couldn’t quiet her moans this time, nor could she stop from crying out his name. James licked up every last drop before he finally rose to his feet.

The look in his eyes made her burn. Not because it was full of lust—which it was—but because there was another emotion there. An emotion that Larisa felt too, despite how dangerous it was.

When he kissed her, she told herself she was moaning because of the taste of her carousal on his mouth, not because he kissed her with such intensity that she knew he had feelings for her.

“Would it make you feel better to know that I think about you every time I’m with someone else?” he breathed against her mouth.

“James…” Her voice was little more than a whisper.

“Every. Single. Time.” He leaned his forehead against hers and breathed in deeply, as if memorizing her scent, before he reluctantly Stepped back. “I have another mission, but can I see you when I come back? I should return tomorrow night.”

She hesitated. She should say no, she knew that, but… “Come back in one piece, then you can visit me.”

That was the last time she ever saw The Winter Soldier.

...

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Ævi - Frontlines

Hey again! This will be a continued series. The first Ævi series is in my masterlist and is only four parts. This is going to be a ongoing series, so there is going to be a lot more of Ævi to come. :)

Summary: Y/n or also known as Ævi has lived through varies of world events. Now it is 1941, she has excepted that some things cannot be changed so Loki has convinced Y/n to go to New York and live a normal life, a life Y/n always wanted. Or as normal it can be, because new introductions lead to events that didn’t go down in the history books.

Warnings: Fluff

Characters: Y/n, Loki and more to come. Wink, wink

Main masterlist

Series masterlist

Part one

1941

Loki had thought it was a good idea to go to a party in New York. But that was a total bust. What he and I think of as a party couldn’t be more opposite. “You enjoyed that?” I asked Loki a little disappointed. This has been a area I have been waiting for the 40s. All the dancing. And in a couple of years celebrating freedom. “It was very civil. Something I thought I would never say of humans. Sometimes people on Asgard can be barbaric.. Especially Thor.” He muttered that last part under his breath. “Yes.. It was civil, but it was boring. They have these amazing places where people go out to dance and just.. have fun. Something I think the majority have never heard off in there.” I told Loki. We were walking the streets of New York. A few cars passed by every now and then. I was looking for a place where we could go dance. “Ok we’re not gonna find anything here.” I said looking around. “Find what?” Loki asked ready to go to the hotel room we had rented. “A party! To dance! Not one of those where people like to talk about money and stocks, cause lets be honest we both are not interested in that.” Loki gave me a small nod and smile at that. “Alright, but I am not going dancing. And besides there is no place here to go dancing anyway. So lets be on our way back to the hotel.” He tried to dismiss me. Keyword tried. I’m not giving up that easily. “Let’s go to Brooklyn! They have good places there. Here I’ll get us a cab!” I was putting my hand up waving at the cabs passing by. Non had stopped as if yet. “No stop that. We went to a party, now we are going back.” He told me. But then a cab stopped and I got in. “You know any places to go dancing in Brooklyn?” I asked the cab driver and he nodded his head. “Well.. You coming or what, cause otherwise I’ll just go without you. You decide Loki.” Loki sighed at that. “Fine but no longer than fifteen minutes.” He said as he climbed in the cad. “An hour.” He shook his head. “Twenty minutes.” He retorted. “An hour.” I told him again. The cab started moving at this point. “Thirty minutes.” He was getting annoyed, but I wasn’t about to give in. “One hour.” I told him again. He sighed. “Fine, but I’m not dancing, so you’ll have to find somebody.” I just shrugged at that. “You’re not a good dancer anyway. You’d just embarrass me.” And Loki rolled his eyes. I was ecstatic, I was so excited to go dancing. Just don’t know these kind of moves yet.

-

After about thirty minutes the driver dropped us off at a dance hall. You could hear the music booming outside and I couldn’t wait to get in. “Be careful! You are not exactly dressed like you belong here.” The cab driver said. We did kind of looked out of place here. Loki and I were very dressed up, Loki was wearing a very expensive looking suit and me, I was wearing a light almost steel colored dress my hair done half up half down and my lips were red. This place certainly wasn’t on the richer part of town. But those people don’t know how to really live up a party anyway.

We walked in and there was jazz music playing. “Come on lets dance!” I cheered. “No.” He was standing still in place and not budging. “Come on Loki! It’ll be fun! Besides, you owe me.” He put his hand on his chest like he was surprised. “What do I owe you.” I narrowed my eyes at him. “You were the one to convince me to go to America in a time like this. Saying, and I quote, ‘You have tried to change history and it didn’t work, so this time won’t be different, go show me around America please.” I crossed my arms and gave him a pointed look. “Yes to the first part and no to the second. Never said I wanted to go here.” I rolled my eyes. “Come on! we will just dance for an hour and then we’re out.” “I told you I’m not dancing.” He retorted. “Fine I’ll find somebody else to dance with than.” I looked around the dance floor and saw everybody have a partner to dance with. Some were just hanging around by tables and others were by bars. I decided to try it there. I saw a man standing alone by the bar. Perfect, doesn’t seem like he has a date. I have got to say who ever the is, he looks handsome even from the back. Broad shoulders, tall and dark hair. Hopefully he likes to dance and isn’t just here for the drinks. 

As I walked over I got a lot of looks from almost everybody. I did look like I was very out of place. But I’m here to have a good time just like everybody else. My eyes were se ton whoever this man was. I noticed that some men had tried to come up and start a conversation with me, but I ignored them. This would be very embarrassing if that man does not want to dance. Anyway the man that was by the bar was leaning against it, so I did the same as I got there. “What are the recommended drinks?” I asked the tall man. He was taking a gulp of his beer and slightly choked when he looked at me. I’ll take that as a compliment. “They don’t have the fancy stuff here if that is what you are looking for. Mostly just beer.” He answered. His eyes were piercing. A steel blue and slightly hooded. “Guess I’ll have that than.” I said waving the waiter over and I ordered.

“So what is a dame like you doing in a place like this?” He asked, fully intrigued. “I came because I wanted to dance, but my friend over there is not so convinced.” I told him pointing with my finger over to Loki. He looked very uncomfortable. That made me slightly laugh. “Is he your husba-” “Oh God no! He’s a friend. He is just doesn’t like to have fun.” He looked a little relieved. “And now you’re here.” I nodded. “Now I’m here, living my life like my days are numbered.” He laughed at that. “Good way to see things.” He noted. The waiter came over with my beer and I nodded a thank you. “So what’s your name doll?” The nickname made me smile. The way it rolled off his tongue so easily. “I’m y/n Ironside.” I told him. Long ago I had taken Bjorn’s name and I still used it after almost a thousand years. I put my hand forward for him to shake. “James Barnes, but friends call me Bucky.” He took my hand and shook it slightly. It felt like electricity running through me. “Bucky?” I asked. “Yeah it comes from my second name, Buchanan.” He explained. “That’s cute.” And I slightly smiled. ”Well Bucky, would you like to dance with me?” I asked him and he smirked. “I thought you were never going to ask.” And he pulled me with him to the dancefloor. I now noticed that we were holding hands the entire time. It made me blush. It felt strange getting these feelings. But I pushed it down and thought nothing of it.

As we were standing in the middle of the dance floor something upbeat started playing. “I don’t know how to dance to this.” Bucky gave me another smirk at that. “Follow my lead!” He answered. He started twirling me around on the beat. It was hard to keep up. I was looking at the people around me what they were doing when I stepped on Bucky’s toe. “Oh sorry!” I grimaced. “It’s alright doll. Don’t get distracted by the people around you. Focus on me.” So I did. I followed his every move and tried to keep up. Still sometimes I stepped on his toes, but it was definitely a lot easier if I wasn’t looking at what everyone around me was doing. After the first song ended I didn’t even notice that there were other people around. Bucky and I were having fun, laughing at the mistakes I was making. It felt very nice for a moment not to think about what was happening in Europe. Then a slow song came on. I stepped closer to him and guided his hand around my my lower back. Then I put my left hand on his shoulder and grabbed his free hand with my right. “So, you do know how to slow dance?” He noted. “I do.” I mean I have sort of slowed danced for about a thousand years, so you could say I am well trained. Obviously couldn’t tell him that. “But you have been a good teacher for teaching me the fast pace parts.” I smiled at him. It was a lot of fun. Fun I haven’t had in a while. “You’re welcome. They don’t do that where you’re from?” Bucky asked. I smiled. They definitely do not dance like that on Asgard and also those type of dances change a lot over the years. “No they do not.” I told him smiling. “So.. You didn’t have a date tonight or.. Did you just come here by yourself?” I wondered out loud. “Oh no. I was with a friend of mine. Steve. But he left earlier. I was just gonna grab a bier before leaving, but then I met this beautiful dame that wanted to dance. And I would be a damned fool to say no to that.” He laughed. “Well I’m glad that I saw you by the bar then.” I stated smiling at him. I looked at our hand that were intertwined and so did he. I had a ring on my middle finger that Loki had gifted me a long time ago. It had the Yggdrasil tree on it. He said it was my symbol and that we are one, I was the protector of life, therefore the protector of the tree of life. It had a magic ability to snap me in to my fighting suit whenever needed. It was a great gift and it made it a lot easier to not have to change every time. “That looks like a old ring.” Bucky noted. “Uhm, yes it has been with me for as long as I can remember.” “Family heirloom?” He asked. “Hmm-hmm.” I nodded my head yes. “It’s a beautiful ring.” I smiled at that. I really loved it as well. “Thank you.”

“Time is up y/n. We’re leaving.” Loki came up behind me. I sighed. I was having so much fun with Bucky and I didn’t want this night to end yet. “After the song has ended.” I told Loki not even looking at him and still dancing with Bucky. He looked slightly uncomfortable, maybe intimidated by Loki. “You said one hour. It has been one hour. We’re leaving this awful place.” He was clearly getting annoyed, but Loki was always annoyed, so it didn’t bother me and he had a habit of giving in anyway. “I’ll leave after this dance. You can either wait here in the middle of the dancefloor or wait outside of it.” He sighed. Giving in and saying; “Fine.” Very annoyed. 

“Very strong willed woman.” Bucky stated impressed. Now it was my turn to smirk. “He doesn’t know how to live in the moment some times.” I stated looking over my shoulder at Loki who was looking very impatient. And annoyed. That gave me an idea. “How do you feel about living in the moment?” I asked Bucky. “No better way to live.” He said smiling. I looked around quickly. “Alright. When the music ends you wanna go for that exit behind you?” He looked around quickly and gave me a shocked face. “You sure you wanna do that doll?” Bucky asked a bit unsure of it all. “It will be hilarious! Are you in?” He dropped his face in a smile. “Where ever you go.” He answered back. Loki is going to be so annoyed. It’s a bit childish of me, but I’m gonna love seeing his face after. 

Bucky and I danced for a bit until the next song started playing. I quickly looked back and saw that Loki was coming up to us again. “Now run!” I yelled at Bucky. I pulled him with me towards the exit as fast as I could not looking back. I pushed the people who were in front of me aside in a fit of laughter. I heard Bucky was laughing too. Then we got outside and ran as fast as we could this time Bucky was pulling me with him. “How far?” He asked laughing. “Far enough!” I yelled back. People that were walking on the street looked at us slightly disturbed which only made this ten times more funnier.

We ran maybe two blocks away from the dancing place. We both slowed down still laughing at the situation. “You sure he is not going to be mad about this?” Bucky asked still laughing. “Don’t worry he’s not going to be mad at you, but with me, it’s fine.” I reassured him. “Alright.” Bucky said spinning me around. All this time still holding hands. “One more dance?” He asked me this time. “There is no music.” I stated smiling. “Let me think.” Bucky told me. “Somewhere over the rainbow, way up high, there’s a land that I heard of, once in a lullaby.” I started singing. Bucky smiled at me and took my other hand an guided me on the street. I continued singing as we were dancing. This song always made me thing of Asgard funnily enough. I always thought of the rainbow as the Bifrost, because when I didn’t understand any of this I thought it was a actual rainbow. And now, in this time, Asgard and it’s stories are lullabies. “I like this song.” He told me. I smiled an continued singing again. I started resting my head against his shoulder. This moment felt very peaceful in all the hectic-ness that was going around earth.

After the song it was time for me to go back to Loki. Enough messing with him for today. “I need to go back.” I told Bucky. He nodded his head in understanding. “Let me walk you back.” And so we walked back and it would end our time. I usually never saw the people I met on earth twice. It raised a lot of questions if there was a little more time in between, seeing I don’t age. Also if I hung out with the same people for too long it started raising questions as to why I was not aging. In the past people have thought I was a witch because of that. So I decided to just not have any relations with humans at all anymore. Which made me sad. Asguardians are great and all, but human.. I was one of them once or I still am, it’s just not the same. As we came closer to the dancehall I felt sad. “I had a really good time.” I told Bucky sincere. He was kind, funny and such a gentleman. “Me too. Uhm I have an extra ticket for the cinema tomorrow, would you like to come with me?” Bucky asked me. I wanted to see him again, but it wouldn’t be wise of me to do so. “I-” “there you are! I have been looking everywhere like a fool. It is time to go home now! I got us a taxi.” Loki said as he started pulling me with him. Now was the first time I let go of Bucky’s hand since I had met him. It felt empty now, cold. “Wait!” I got out of Loki’s grip and ran back to Bucky. “Thank you for tonight.” I told him holding his hands one last time and a gave him a quick kiss on his left cheek before I let go and ran back towards a irritated Loki. I just shrugged at him as I followed him to a taxi.

As we sat in the taxi I looked if I could still see Bucky and I did. I wish I had answered his question for the cinema, but it would only make it more difficult if I did. The car started moving and Loki and I were off to our hotel. I gave him a final wave before I couldn’t see him anymore and looked down. “Oh please, you get attached too easily. You met him not two hours ago.” Loki stated. “He was different.” Is all I had to say, and he was, he was different. “You shouldn’t fall for these humans.. their lives are short and meaningless. Asguardians have a much longer lifespan.” I just rolled my eyes at that. “Their lives being short gives a lot more meaning to them.” I said under my breath.

-

Two weeks later

Bucky POV

“How about Dottie?” Steve asked. He was asking me if I went on any other dates with her. But truth be told. After I had met Y/n I couldn’t think of anybody else. I sighed and took a sip of my coke, we were sitting at a diner. “No? Buck you still got your mind on this girl? It’s been two weeks.” He tried to reason. He was right, but a girl like y/n I have never met before. “She was somethin’ else Steve.” Was all I has to say. “How was she so special?” Steve asked. “She was beautiful, you had to see her. She had this beautiful smile and this glistening in her y/e/c eyes. She carried herself in a way that was just so graceful. And she was so kind. and her laugh, Steve, you had to hear her laugh.” I sounded crazy, but that one encounter with her was what that did to me. “Well if it is meant to be you’ll see her again.” He tried to cheer me up. I looked out of the window at all the people that were walking around going places, work, home. “Maybe it wasn’t.” I said quietly. I wanted to look for her, but she would definitely think I’m crazy if I succeeded in that and I wouldn’t want to scare her away. In the corner of my eye I saw a woman walking the same walk as y/n did. I tried to get a better look, as much as I could with the window being in the way and the people on the street. I could only see her back. She had a yellow dress on with the same hairdo as y/n had that night. “It’s her.” I couldn’t believe it. I immediately stood up and walked out of the diner as fast as I could. I kept a quick pace to keep up with her. “Y/n!”

...

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Let me know what you think!

Yes the dancing part of the street is totally an idea of the Notebook, it is one of my favorite movies and I always thought it was so romantic :)

[wizardofrozz]

Welcome to Westview!

Warnings: implied homophobia (!!), swearing (barely), mention of past trauma (WW2)

A/N: Thank you all for the support, I’m borderline giddy with excitement over how many people love this idea ❤❤ You’re all wonderful 😘

Taglist is open!

Chapter 2

Bucky POV

I hung my hat on the hook next to the door, slipping my shoes off and sliding my suit coat off, hanging it on the railing on my way to the couch. I dropped onto the cushion with a groan, loosening my tie and running a hand through my hair, trying to tame it. My heightened hearing picked up on the soft tune Steve was humming as he walked around in the room above me.

           “Hey, Stevie!” I yelled, hearing his footsteps still.

           “Yeah, Buck?” Steve yelled back. I heard his footsteps move across the floor, down the hall, and stop at the top of the steps.

           “What do you want to do for dinner?” I asked, running my hand over the soft fabric of the couch cushion. The wood creaked under his weight as he bounced down the steps; I jumped when Steve hopped over the back of the couch, landing next to me.

           “What are you in the mood for?” Steve shot back, leaning his head back against the couch. “We could always go out,” Steve offered tentatively.

           “Steve, it’s already hard enough to explain why we live together. Going out to dinner isn’t going to make it look any better.” I threw my head back, copying Steve and closing my eyes; having romantic feelings for a war buddy in the ’50s could get us hurt, but I still felt bad denying Steve. “You know what,” I started. I turned my head, finding Steve’s head already turned towards me, his sparkling eyes boring into me. I took a deep breath, an intense longing gripped at my heart the longer I stared at him; it became so intense I almost gasped, fighting away the tears burning at the back of my eyes. Then it was gone, like the feeling never existed. What the hell?

           “What were you going to say, Buck?” Steve pushed, raising an eyebrow at me.

           “Let’s go get dinner,” I sighed, smiling at Steve. A bright smile spread across Steve’s face, and my stomach flipped and my heart stuttering; Steve grabbed my hand that sat on the couch cushion between us, lacing our hands together. I shook my head, chuckling softly, and turned my head again, staring at the ceiling; I jumped slightly when I felt Steve’s lips against my cheek.

           “Thanks for doing this, bear,” he whispered, kissing my cheek one more time. My head lolled to the side, our noses brushing when I leaned my forehead against his; our lips were almost touching when a loud knock made me jump, tumbling to the floor. Steve flew into a fit of laughter, grabbing his chest, gasping for air around his laughter; I glared at him, slowly getting to my feet, rubbing my now sore tailbone.

           “Yeah, laugh at the old man,” I joked wryly.

           “We’re almost the same age!” Steve corrected, still laughing. “Besides, we’re in great shape for somewhere over 100.” I shot Steve a pointed look as I checked that my shirt was still tucked in and not rumpled before reaching for the door.

           “Agnes,” I greeted with a smile.

           “James! How are you, dear?” Agnes greeted, leaning in to give me a half-hug, kissing my cheek.

           “Hello Agnes,” Steve greeted, rounding the couch.

           “Steve! I didn’t think you’d be home,” Agnes chuckled. “Actually, I’m surprised either of you are home; I thought you’d both be out with some lucky ladies.” Agnes wiggled her eyebrows at me over Steve’s shoulder as she gave him a half hug too. My stomach fell to my feet, panic flaring up, but I tried to keep my expression neutral, but thankfully, Steve stepped in before I made an ass of myself.

           “Buck and I are still adjusting to civilian life,” Steve answered, his lips pulling into a tight line. Steve gestured for Agnes to take a seat; she perched on the edge of the cushion next to Steve, and I stood behind them.

           “What do you mean?” Agnes asked, her eyes widening.

           “Stevie and I were part of some of the last army troops brought home a few years ago. We are still getting assimilated,” I answered, patting Steve’s shoulder. Steve let out a shallow breath, giving me a tight smile before turning his attention back to Agnes.

           “Oh goodness, I had no idea,” she gasped, covering her mouth.

           “Most people don’t,” I said with a shrug. “Our friends know, but that’s why we came here. A new start sounded like a good idea,” I stated.

           “Splitting bills took some of the stress off both of us,” Steve added, his lips pulling into a small smile.

           “Oh, I’m sure,” she said with a nod.

           “Plus, waking up from nightmares and having someone to talk to that understands doesn’t hurt,” I added, trying to sound lighthearted, but Agnes’ frown only deepened.

           “You poor boys, I can’t even imagine what you went through. If you ever need anything, please let me know,” Agnes stressed. Agnes rested a hand on Steve’s thigh and reached for the hand that I didn’t have resting on the couch. I took her outstretched hand, holding it gently while gripping the back of the sofa until my knuckles were white, my eyes glued to the hand on Steve’s thigh.

           “We really appreciate it,” Steve said with a smile, engulfing her hand with his.

           “I’ll make sure to mention it to the other ladies too. There was talk that you boys were” -Agnes lowered her voice- “together. I don’t want you boys walking around worrying about that when you two need to heal.” Agnes smiled brightly up at me, then turned her smile on Steve; I tried to keep the grip on her hand gentle. “I may even know some lovely young ladies for you boys,” she chuckled, wiggling her eyebrows again.

           “That’s very sweet….” Steve trailed off, turning his head to the side, listening. At the last second, I realized Steve could hear the faint groaning of the wood in the couch under my hand. I was still too focused on Agnes’ grip on Steve to notice the wood splintered under my hand, sending me stumbling into the back of the couch.

           “What was that? Are you okay, James?” Agnes asked, glancing between Steve and me.

           “I think I found a weak spot on the couch,” I chuckled, trying to hide the panic.

           “An army buddy that lives nearby gave us this couch. Who knows how old it is,” Steve laughed. “You okay, Buck?”

           “I’m fine; the couch is another story,” I laughed dryly. I pulled my hand away from Agnes, assessing the damage to the couch and noting the minor scratches on my hand. Agnes sat up, bracing herself on Steve’s shoulder to look over him to see the bent and broken pieces of wood piercing through the fabric.

           “Wow, it must have been sitting for some time,” she mumbled, dropping back into her spot.

           “We’re terrible hosts; you stopped here for something. What brings you over, Agnes?” Steve smiled, waiting for Agnes to catch up to what he said. I silently thanked Steve for moving the conversation smoothly away from my anger; I don’t know what I’d do without his charming nature.

           “I almost forgot,” Agnes giggled. “Do you two know the couple that moved in next door?”

           “(Y/N) and Loki?” Steve asked; Agnes nodded.

           “(Y/N) has been my closest friend, besides Steve, of course, for…eight years. She was a nurse in Europe when I was deployed in ‘43,” I answered, smiling fondly at the thought of my friend.

           “Oh, I didn’t know,” Agnes mumbled, looking down at her hands. “Well, I should get going. I promised Natasha I would drop off the recipe for Clint’s favorite cookies.”

           “Uh, of course. It was very nice to see you, Agnes,” Steve stuttered, getting off the couch. Steve and I walked her to the door, sharing a confused look behind her back before she stepped onto the porch turning towards us again.

           “Behave, boys,” she jested, waving as she walked off. Steve closed the door, and his brows pulled together as he turned to face me.

           “That was…odd,” he mumbled.

           “No kidding,” I scoffed, shaking my head. “I think she was hoping I said I didn’t like (Y/N) or something; Agnes likes drama.”

           “I don’t get why it would matter?” Steve inquired, his brows pulling closer together.

           “Enough,” I laughed, reaching up to gently massage between his eyebrows. “You’re going to give yourself a headache, dear.”

           “I know.” Steve huffed out a laugh, resting his hand on my wrist, his thumb rubbing against my pulse as his eyes fell shut.

           “Let’s go get dinner,” I proposed. I let my hand slide down to cup his cheek, rubbing across his cheekbone; Steve hummed, a smile settling on his face. I coaxed him closer, connecting our lips in a tender kiss; Steve sighed, relaxing into the kiss. “Come on, before we starve,” I laughed against his lips.

           “Fiiiine,” Steve whined softly, dropping his hand. A laugh burst from my lips, but I couldn’t help but think Steve looked adorable, even pouting; I gently tapped his cheek, shaking my head. I stepped away, jogging towards the stairs to change. “I get to pick where we go!” Steve called as I pounded up the steps.

           “If you insist, sweetheart!” I called back, a smile spreading across my face.

***

Thankfully, Steve decided he was in the mood for diner food for dinner so we could walk. By the time we rounded the corner of our street, my eyes were getting heavy, and Steve had to keep stifling yawns.

           “We may be in good shape for 100-something, but we definitely have the attitudes of old men,” I laughed, knocking shoulders with Steve.

           “Right,” he chuckled. Steve pulled a hand out of his pocket to cover another yawn, and I couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out again. “Shut up, you look like you’re about to fall asleep walking,” Steve jested, bumping his hip into mine.

           “You got that right,” I yawned, smiling. Steve shook his head but didn’t say anything else; the chirps of crickets filled the air as we got closer to our house, relaxing me. Steve unlocked the door, pushing it open, gesturing for me to go first; I kicked off my shoes, making a beeline for the kitchen. I grabbed two glasses, fighting off another yawn while I poured whiskey for us; I hip bumped the door from the kitchen open, extending a glass to Steve as I approached the couch.

           “Thanks, bear,” Steve hummed, smiling softly. I lowered myself onto the couch, swallowing half the glass in one gulp, dropping my head back, and closed my eyes. “Buck?” Steve’s voice cut through the haze clouding my brain. I must have started to doze off based on how foggy my brain felt at the moment.

           “Hm?” I hummed, not bothering to open my eyes.

           “You’re going to hate yourself in the morning if you don’t go up to bed,” Steve warned, jostling my leg. My eyes fluttered open, Steve’s face coming into focus; I grunted, shifting to the edge of the couch, scratching at the stubble under my chin as I yawned. “Give me your cup.”

           “Hold on,” I grunted. I threw back the rest of the whiskey, wincing at the burn; Steve snorted, taking the now empty glass. I pushed off the couch, trudging towards the steps, yawning yet again.

           “Come on, old man,” Steve chuckled behind me.

           “Shut up, punk,” I shot back, glaring over my shoulder as I climbed the steps.

           “Make me, jerk,” Steve said, poking my side. I barked out a laugh, almost tripping on the last steps as I tried to jump away.

           “I’ll throw you back down the steps,” I warned, holding my hands out to keep him away.

           “I’ll live,” Steve mumbled with a shrug, a mischievous glint in his eyes. I backed away, pumping into the doorframe of the bedroom.

           “Steven Grant Rogers,” I warned, glaring at him.

           “James Buchanan Barnes,” he responded. “I can use your full name too.” Steve stalked closer, crouching down as he backed me into the wall between our beds. I was trapped, and Steve knew it, and he pounced; using his body to pin me in place, Steve grabbed at my ribs, and I couldn’t fight the laughter that burst from my lips.

           “Steve!” I yelled, trying to push him away. “Please!”

           “Apologize for saying you’d throw me down the steps,” Steve insisted, refusing to let up on tickling me.

           “I’m sorry!” I screamed around laughter.

           “What was that?” Steve chuckled.

           “Steve! I’m sorry!” I begged between pained laughs, tears pricking at my eyes. Finally, Steve gave me a break, laughing at my pain; I dropped my head onto Steve’s shoulder, trying to catch my breath again. “You’re terrible,” I panted.

           “Mm, you love me,” Steve replied.

           “Debatable,” I argued, relaxing into Steve, who was still pressed against me.

           “I’m tired now,” Steve sighed, resting his head against mine.

           “You’re tired! I’m exhausted now,” I barked. Steve laughed again, pressing a soft kiss against the side of my neck, sending a chill down my spine.

           “Get changed,” Steve directed, freeing me from the wall; I grunted in acknowledgment. I dropped face down into bed once I changed into my pajamas, moaning in the fabric at the softness against my tense muscles.  “Goodnight, bear,” Steve mumbled.

           “Night, Stevie,” I said into my sheets, falling into a deep sleep almost immediately.

Chapter 3 | Series Masterlist

Taglist:

@marvelfansworld​ @imagine-yourself-happy​ @alluringshawn​ @lovelokiqueen​ @somegeekychic​ @neenieweenie

[talkfastromance4]

3.) 11 Minutes--Ashton Irwin ‘Lovers in a Song’ series

a/n: So while each ‘chapter’ is titled after a song it’s more of the mood and a few choice lyrics that really made the story. This story changed a lot as I wrote it but in the end it all flows really nicely together. I’m so excited to share this with you! Each part is 3,000 with the exception of the last part. Please don’t hesitate to send me messages, I’d love to hear your thoughts!

Word count: 3k

warnings: a sexy phone call, the use of ‘Daddy’ multiple times, sexy play with wine, hints of infidelity but NOT in the way you think I promise, uhh I think that’s it?

Masterlist

LIAS masterlist

***

3 Years Ago

It’s been a year since Ashton and Cressida have seen each other at The Golden Lion. Ever since they returned from Europe three years ago they agreed to only see each other once a year on the anniversary of their first meeting and spend a long weekend together.

For a little over a year and a half, the forbidden couple have been publicly linked to other people. Ashton has been tied to Lucinda Clarke, her family are well known partners with Irwin Whisky and the partnership between Ashton and Lucinda would be beneficial to both parties. Lucinda is nice enough but she’s more silver than gold.

Cressida has been snapped with Gavin de Poiters, the heir to centuries old winemakers in Europe. They attend many dinners and club scenes together, making sure they’re the center of the paparazzi eye by order of their PR group. Cressida paints on the perfect smile but her mind and heart are always on Ashton.

Part of their deal is to not be in contact with each other until their weekend. Cressida has been going back and forth on cancelling this year because she feels guilty doing this to Gavin. Her mind was practically set on cancelling when a small package was sent to her office on Valentine’s Day.

It was a pretty bracelet with purple and pink jewels and her favorite shade of red lipstick and a note that read:

I hope to only see you in these two things on our weekend. My golden lady. A.I

Cressida hasn’t removed the bracelet since.

Cressida is listening to her schedule for the next coming weeks while doing her morning stretches when one of them makes her pause mid side lunge.

“Can you repeat that one for next weekend?” Cressida asks her assistant, Chloe.

“Yes, um, you and Gavin are scheduled for that three-day conference at The Golden Lion promoting all inclusivity within the workplace. He will only be able to attend the Friday evening session and is on a flight to Japan right after.”

Cressida’s heart pounds in her chest. She’s going to be with Gavin at her and Ashton’s hidden sanctuary, with Ashton present as well. Their time together isn’t for another two months. Will she be able to handle herself in front of Gavin?

For the rest of the week, Cressida has been anxiously anticipating seeing Ashton. She wonders if Lucinda will be there or on one of her many yachts partying. She’s distracted from her day-to-day tasks; her fingers itching to call Ashton and ask him what they should do.

On Friday night, Cressida is putting on the final touch of her outfit which is the red lipstick Ashton gifted her. She bought a gold sequined dress with a plunging neckline and an open back. The only thing holding it up were the thin straps on her shoulders, and due to the minimal material, she was braless as well. She wanted to show off for Ashton.

“You’re wearing that?” Gavin asks once she steps down the stairs. Chloe helps her into her black coat, handing her her gold clutch.

“Yes, what’s wrong with it?”

“It’s a bit revealing, don’t you think?” his eyebrows raise in judgment.

“It’s in style now, Gavin. Let’s go.”

They’re about eleven minutes away from the hotel, Gavin’s tapping away at his phone while Cressida stares out the rain filled window, her mind wandering to a college bar and a handsome man when an unsaved number lights up on Cressida’s phone, it buzzes on her thigh. Thinking it could be someone from the company, she picks up.

“Hello?”

“It’s me.”

Cressida holds back her gasp at the sound of Ashton’s voice. The last time she heard it he was telling her goodbye in the doorway of their room before she went to the main desk. Her stomach clenches at the soft timber.

“I know you’re with him but I’m waiting for you. Can you put on a show for me tonight, darling? Say ‘yes Daddy’ if you understand.”

Cressida swallows harshly, her voice cracking when she responds with, “Yes Daddy.”

“Good girl. Are you wearing that lipstick I bought you? Say it again if you are.”

“Yes, Daddy, I am.”

“And the bracelet?”

“Yes, Daddy,” she says a little breathlessly. Gavin gives her an odd look and she smiles lightly waving her hand to dismiss it. He sighs and goes back to his phone.

“That’s a very good girl,” Ashton hums and she relishes the sound. “I made sure the staff know not to address you tonight, but your room is next to mine. Gavin’s leaving tonight, right? Tell me ‘yes, Daddy that’s right’ if it is.”

“Yes, Daddy,” Cressida clears her throat, “that’s right.”

“Mm, good. I can’t wait to see you, and hear you call me Daddy while I have you pinned beneath me.”

Cressida’s stunned for a beat at his words. Part of her worries Gavin can hear it’s not really her father she’s speaking to, but she’s safe with Ashton’s voice in her ear.

“That sounds…wonderful, Daddy.”

“Are you going to put on a show for me, angel?”

“You know I will, Daddy,” she promises, and he groans at her ease of the term. She smiles in victory and sees the large marquee of the hotel sign out her window. “I’ll see you soon, Daddy. Let’s grab lunch with Gavin soon.”

“Oh, you’re naughty—”

Cressida laughs and hangs up before he can finish his sentence. She hopes that sets him off a little.

“Your father wants to grab lunch?” Gavin asks while they wait for the valet attendees to grab their umbrellas and open the doors for them.

“And a show,” Cressida grins.

Gavin gets out first and opens the door for her making sure the umbrella covers her completely. She holds his arm like she’s supposed to and smiles at the few cameramen who are lining the walkway to the main doors. Ashton is almost within her reach, her stomach flips in excitement at being near him soon.

She and Gavin greet the people they’re supposed to but she’s also scanning the hall for signs of Ashton. She hopes Lucinda isn’t here. As they near the bar at the back she hears his voice, and it tickles her ears. Subconsciously, she squeezes Gavin’s arm in response to the raw smoothness of it as he speaks with someone about his business trip in Cabo. It reminds her of his whisky, it goes down smooth but leaves a raw ache in your mouth for more.

Cressida shivers at the thought of what else he does smoothly while going down.

“You should have worn something warmer,” Gavin reprimands but Cressida is the complete opposite.

“I’m fine. I just need a drink to warm me up,” she speaks loud enough so Ashton can hear her.

“My whisky will warm you right up, James,” Ashton calls sardonically.

Cressida looks over at him to see him smirking, his dimple making an appearance and it deepens as he eyes her up in her dress. He’s drinking her in. She’s happy to see Lucinda isn’t in attendance. For a flicker of a moment, she forgets that it’s not just the two of them in the safety of these walls and she quickly resets her face.

“In the pits of hell, maybe.”

He cocks his head in admiration, but he knows how fiery she is. He bets Gavin doesn’t know that about her.

“Your brandy holds that throne.”

“Its rightful place is a throne,” she rolls her neck in attitude, lips pouted to showcase the deep red color. “A throne made of gold.”

Ashton breathes in heavily at her sassiness, but it’s only apparent to him. Their onlookers are shifting eyes between the two nervously. Gavin is tapping his fingers impatiently on the bar top, he doesn’t want to be here. He’s voiced it to Cressida repeatedly but for appearances sake, they need to be seen together.

“There’s a whole room, Irwin, occupy some other space,” Gavin snaps.

“I intend to de Poiters, but that’s not until later in the privacy of my own room.” Ashton winks swiftly at Cressida and she feels her cheeks warm. His promise of pinning her swirls back in her mind. “I’ll be having your finest red, actually. Did you know it stains on skin? Even in the smallest of crevices hidden away.”

Cressida can only imagine what he means. She presses her thighs together.

“You disgust me, much like your whisky. It tastes of horses piss,” Gavin snorts.

“Drink that frequently, do you?”

Cressida bites her lip to keep her giggle at bay. Ashton’s current demeanor (and his phone call) are turning her on in the worst way. All she wants is to be stowed away in their room for the whole weekend instead of attending these sessions. She’s thankful Gavin is leaving right after this one.

“Fuck off,” Gavin shakes his head and grabs their drinks. “Let’s go Cress.”

Cressida makes sure to turn slowly so Ashton gets a good look of her in her dress. She feels his eyes burning into her back the whole way to their seats.

The first session seems to go on for an eternity, but her mind is occupied of fantasies with Ashton. Fantasies she hopes will come true tonight once Gavin leaves. Finally, the session is over and everyone in attendance are excused to their rooms or another hall where there’s coffee being served.

“I’ll see you on Monday,” Gavin gives Cressida a half-assed kiss on her cheek before walking towards the main doors. He doesn’t look back, then a throat clearing behind her catches her attention.

“I believe we’re on the same floor, James,” his voice is flat, but she can see the fire in his eyes. People bustling by are in hearing distance, it’s still time to act.

“Great,” she rolls her eyes and bumps past him towards the elevators.

They wait patiently for the doors to open but she’s about to burst. She’s shaking her foot until the gold doors slide open and they enter it quickly. Cressida eyes up the camera in the corner while Ashton stares straight ahead at the guests until the doors close. Ashton and Cressida’s eyes meet in the reflection.

“You have no idea the restraint I’m using right now because of that camera,” Ashton tells her reflection.

“I’m sure you could pay to have it erased,” she grins then cocks her head up at him, “or to keep for your own.”

“You’re really asking for it, angel,” he shakes his head turning it back to the closed doors.

“I could beg, too you know,” she responds airily. “Would Daddy like that?”

“Fuck, Cressida,” he tuts, and she giggles.

The elevator comes to a stop and the doors open slowly. Cressida is the first to step out but then Ashton has her pinned against the opposite wall, his face invading her space. He hikes her leg high on his waist, his fingers teasing the back of her thigh.

“You in this dress is making me weak,” he mumbles.

“Really?” she hooks her heel around his leg pulling him closer to her where she feels his bulge. “Seems like it’s making you hard, Ash.”

“That’s not my name tonight, angel,” his lips ghost over hers and he lifts her other leg to wrap around his waist. He presses himself against her harshly, her back pushes into the wall with force. “What do you call me?”

“Sorry, Daddy.”

He smiles then pulls off the wall holding her securely until he unlocks their room. Once inside, he sets her on the floor and opens the fridge.

“Strip for me and wait in the room with the tub,” he points.

“Can I have a kiss first?” she pouts, and he laughs.

“You aren’t in control tonight, angel,” he pokes her nose, “no matter how hard you try. Go.”

“But—”

“I said go. I’ll be there in a minute.”

They have a mini stare off until she finally obeys and moves into the room. The dress is easy to get out of, she just slips it off and lays on the bed watching Ashton whistle while he opens a wine bottle. He’s taking his sweet time and her fingers start to wander and her eyes close imagining it’s Ashton’s fingers.

“Did I say you could touch yourself?”

Cressida’s eyes flash open and he’s holding Gavin’s red wine in his hand, his gaze on her hand between her legs.

“Wanted to be ready for you,” she teases her finger inside and Ashton’s gaze is on every movement. “You said you wanted a show.”

“You’re so naughty,” he shakes his head setting the bottle down. “Good thing I brought this.”

He pulls out two gold restraints, she can tell it’s silked the way it glides over his fingers. She stares at him in awe as he moves on top of her. He snatches her wrist roughly bringing it above her head to the wooden post in the center. She watches him bind her wrist and loop it around the wood. He forces her other hand above her head and does the same, tying it tightly.

“Pull,” he commands staring down at her. She pulls her wrists down and feels the restraint. It excites her. “Good. Now, you’re going to watch me enjoy your boyfriend’s wine.”

He reaches for the bottle and scoots down her body. Ashton pours the deep red wine down her chest. The chill of it trickles over her breasts and down her stomach into her navel. Ashton ducks down and slurps up as much as he can, but she feels it slip onto the bed on either side of her. When his tongue swirls in her bellybutton, she squirms.

“Mm tastes better on you,” he smiles and tips the bottle over her breast. He closes his mouth on her nipple, sucking the red juice off until there’s teeth marks in her skin.

Cressida’s finding it hard to breathe watching Ashton. Feeling his mouth on her. He’s drinking the wine, but she’s drunk on his antics.

“How do you think Gavin would feel knowing I’m enjoying his wine smothered all over you?” he taunts and pours more on her belly.

It gushes off the sides, but Ashton situates himself between her legs and slurps up as much as he can then quickly shifts to her pussy, his mouth opening to her sweetness. Cressida lets out an appreciative moan as Ashton eats her out energetically. She’s desperate to put her hands in his hair but the restraints remind her she can’t. She’s going to have marks, but she doesn’t care. Ashton moans then slips in a finger.

He edges her like this until the bottle is nearly empty. She’s wet and sticky—from the wine and her own body—and Ashton presses the bottle to her mouth.

“Drink the rest, so next time you drink his wine with him, you’ll think of me.”

He tips it back and she drinks the rest of the wine, it dribbles down her chin, staining her already red lips. Ashton tosses the bottle to the carpet and crushes his mouth to hers. Cressida cries out in joy, grinding her hips against his silently begging for release.

“You put on a good show,” he sighs, “ready for the grand finale?”

“Give it to me, Daddy.”

In flashes Ashton’s clothes are removed. He presses into her easily, hips driving into her like a pendulum. Their bodies staining from the wine. Cressida cries out from intense pleasure. The bindings. The wine. Ashton’s cock driving in and out of her. Her denied orgasms roll into one large one that she can’t even cry out his name. Ashton stains her belly again and they try to catch their breath.

“Now that was a show,” she huffs and nudges the top of his head with her nose. He lifts his head, his lips and chin stained red.

“You played well,” he smirks kissing her.

“Can you untie me? I want to touch you,” she whines yanking on the restraints for effect.

Ashton grunts in response connecting his lips to hers once more and lifts his arm up. In one quick movement, the restraints are loose, and her arms fall heavily onto the bed. She moans at the release but can’t lift her arms quite yet.

“It’ll take a few moments for the blood to rush back,” Ashton informs her. He sits up rubbing his thumbs over the red markings on her wrists. “Are you in pain?” he asks, eyes soft and full of concern.

“No,” she smiles. “A little worn out, yeah, but I’m never in pain when I’m with you, Ash.”

When the blood is flowing in her arms again, she’s starting to feel the tightness in them while she lays on top of Ashton in the bath. The water swirls red from the wine. His middle finger runs up and down her spine and her body feels like jelly. It’s a welcomed heaviness of bliss and satisfaction. When her head has come down from the clouds, she wonders something.

“Are we cheating on them, Ash?” she asks quietly. His finger pauses in the middle of her back and he sighs heavily.

“It’s not cheating when it’s not real.”

She lifts her head and gives him a sad look. “We aren’t real?”

Ashton cups her cheeks in his large hands.

“No, you and I are very real, Cressida. I have no feelings for Lucinda, she knows this is all publicity. She’d rather be a bachelorette forever. She’s silver and you’re gold. I love you and only you.”

That’s the first time he’s ever told her that. She assumed love was off the table for them, but she’s loved him since that first night they met in the bar.

“I love you, too,” she smiles, surprised at the tears filling her eyes from the overwhelming emotion.

“You’re the best thing I’ve ever had.”

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[jodfics]

My Girl

Female Reader x Bucky Barnes

Timeline: 1940′s Rating: NSFW Prompt: Shipped off to England awaiting his orders, Bucky meets a girl. A/N: I’m really proud of this one too. There’s some angst in here so make sure you have some tissues.

MasterList

Y/N gave a sigh as more of the noisy American boys flooded into the dance hall; they had just arrived and were eager to enjoy their downtime while it lasted. They were being stationed in the barracks of the English countryside but it was only a matter of time before they were shipped out to Europe. She didn't mind them too much; it was just they were rowdy and she had enough to deal with as a military nurse without brawls breaking out every night. The English lads didn't like how flirty their new allies were, and a lot of the girls didn't know what to make of it. She, personally, found some of the new arrivals awful.

The nurse had come with her friends to enjoy a few dances before returning to their barracks and getting much-needed rest, but she had a problem.

A very loud and very handsy problem.

The Soldier targeted her as soon as he stepped through the door, and several times she had politely declined his offer of a drink. "Come on! Just one dance, just wanna see your pretty skirt twirl a little!" His hand was wrapped around her wrist again, and with an annoyed huff, she pulled herself free. He was more persistent than the last time with more drink in him; he grabbed her upper arm and yanked hard enough that the seam along her sleeve split.

Y/N let out a sharp gasp in both surprise and pain. Before she could yell at him and shove the heel of her hand against his chin, another man seemed to materialise by her side and pulled him away. "Didn't bring your manners, pal?" She stared at the broad back in front of her; the newcomer seemed to be blocking her from the drunk's view on purpose, it was a very protective stance, and Y/N felt a little more at ease. "I think you need to head back to barracks. Better yet – Go back to Jersey."

"Why don't you butt out!" The drunk exclaimed and swayed toward the man with a beefy fist raised. A protective arm shot out toward Y/N and gently swept the nurse to the side with him as he dodged the sloppy punch; the drunk fell against the table and cursed loudly. He made another swing, and this time, the Soldier landed a solid, right hook to the drunk's jaw and knocked him out cold.

A cheer rose up, some of the other soldiers clapping and raising their glasses, "You show 'im, Sarge!"

"Alright, Bucky! You show 'em how Brooklyn boys do it!"

Y/N sighed at the rowdy men and turned to leave, this was enough for one night and she really was tired. "Hey, wait!" The tall man fell into step beside her, and Y/N froze when she saw his face for the first time; he smiled at her with a somewhat lopsided grin. "He's one of mine, sorry he caused trouble for you… I know he's been hounding you all night already, but…" he gave a shrug, "Can I buy you a drink?"

There was no possible way she couldn't stare at him. He was so attractive that she was captivated simply by his steel-blue eyes and his perfectly chiselled features. He wore his hat slightly to the side, brunette hair styled neatly beneath it. His entire appearance was impeccable, and she didn't think she'd seen a uniform look so well on anyone else. But his mouth… Those perfectly shaped, plump lips, pink and moist as his tongue peeked out to lick his bottom lip in what she assumed was out of habit. The corners curled up just right and Y/N couldn't have refused if she'd wanted to. "Sergeant James B Barnes of the one o seventh."

She blinked rapidly, her brain trying to process the information and get away from how beautiful he was, "Y/N, Queen Alexandra's Imperial Military Nursing Service." It was a mouthful to say; however, she was incredibly proud of the service. She pointedly ignored his bemused expression – he was likely trying to turn it into an acronym but no one had managed it yet. "And I'd like a G and T, please, Sergeant."

"Bucky." He said with another charming smile and pulled a chair out for her at the first free table he found.

"Sorry?" The nurse tucked her skirt underneath her as she sat, looking up at him, slightly confused by the single word he had uttered.

"Call me Bucky." Another flash of teeth and he was striding toward the bar, parting a few soldiers confidently and getting the barman's attention. She watched him curiously, admiring his confidence and poise – he had a funny accent. Still, he behaved better than most of his fellows had been so far. Soon he was back, setting their drinks down and sitting across from her before taking his hat off and carefully running his hand over his hair to keep it neat. Not that there had been anything wrong with it. Y/N wasn't really sure what to say to him and sipped quietly at her drink before asking him where the name 'Bucky' came from and he leaned forward to speak to her. Bucky seemed to be naturally friendly, and his every gesture showed it. "Buchanan is my middle name, my pal, Steve, came up with calling me Bucky, and it kinda stuck. James is what my Ma calls me; usually when I'm in trouble!"

He was so boyishly charming that Y/N began to relax and fell into easy conversation with him, which was only the beginning of her trouble. The way he unconsciously swayed to the music was a massive indicator that he liked to dance, and she really wasn't very keen on the activity. "How old's your sister?" The nurse had to smile when he sat up straight and furrowed his brows, lips pursed slightly as he so obviously wondered how she knew he had a sister. Y/N rested her chin on the palm of her hand and continued, "When you got between that guy and me earlier. You blocked me from his view and kept me behind you the entire time; that's something I've only ever seen fathers, brothers or lovers do." Her eyes flicked to his large hands, there was no ring and she didn't think he looked old enough for children.

"You one of those head nurses?" Bucky laughed and licked his lips before answering, "Yeah, I got little sisters back home. The older one, she's real pretty, and the fellas keep trying their luck… I hope she doesn't get in too much trouble while I'm here." There was such a fond look in his eyes that Y/N couldn't help but sigh whimsically, "And no wife." A flash of his left ring finger brought her attention back to him fully, what she knew already confirmed. He chose that moment to offer his hand, "I'm dying to dance with you, doll."

Her head was already shaking left and right, her eyes widened in a sort of alarm that made him grin further, "I… really am a terrible dancer. I'll step on your toes and lose all of my mystique." As an afterthought, she quickly tacked on, "I'm not your 'doll' either."

"Lucky for you, I'm a great dancer. And my boots can handle your dainty, little feet… ma'am." He was a devil in disguise, she was sure of it, and somehow that made taking his hand impossible to resist.

"That's worse," he knew that too by the way he smirked, "I'm not a 'ma'am' or a 'doll', I have a name, and maybe you could use it?" Bucky didn't reply as he tugged her gently toward him. The music wasn't too quick and there was a good beat; his hand rested on the small of her back as his other hand cradled hers, easing her into a few simple steps. "Not bad, Sergeant."

Bucky chuckled at her compliment, "You're not so bad yourself, d- Y/N." He turned them smoothly, and he wisely kept quiet when she tripped over her own feet; he thought the way she hid her face was sweet, "You're thinking too hard." He told her and she shrugged slightly rather than admit he was right. It was then that Bucky noticed the rip in her sleeve and a frown tugged on his perfect lips. It would need sewing up, and he felt terrible that she'd have to mend such a pretty dress because one of his men couldn't hold their drink, "If anyone gives you trouble again, you let me know and I'll take care of it. I'm gonna twirl you – there we go!" Bucky watched Y/N's skirt flare out as he turned her and he caught her smiling as she started to enjoy herself. "That's a good look on you, doll."

-

They met twice a week at the dance hall, Bucky was the only man she would dance with, and though he flitted from girl to girl like a bee to flowers, he always ended up with her. They didn't have much in common but they always found easy conversation. It wasn't long before some of the soldiers started referring to her as 'Bucky's girl'; she denied it when her friends asked her, and of course, the nurses all laughed at her dismissals. The barracks were always noisy on dance nights. Curlers, hair spray, dresses and excited yells made it busier than any dance hall. Y/N would hide her smile when they started talking about her 'American Sweetheart', and she would very quickly change the subject. Thankfully, her friend and a soldier she had been caught kissing in the hall the night before.

It became a thing that the one o seventh would make a loud fuss when Y/N and Bucky would greet each other; bets were already made on how long it would be until they were official. He'd tell them to knock it off and roll his eyes, nodding his head toward the bar so she would follow him without question. They would flirt. Everyone could see it, but no one ever noticed how they looked at each other or the subtle touches when they danced. Neither one of them were strangers to the opposite sex. After two months of hints and silent suggestion, Y/N took his hand and guided him out of the dance hall toward the barn doors of the neighbouring farm. She leaned up and was finally able to press her lips to his – she hadn't been able to stop her fascination with his mouth since the day she met him.

Bucky pulled her close, sealing his mouth over hers, devouring her moan as he deepened the kiss, tilting his head and dominating the kiss like it was his sole purpose in life. She didn't simply let him take over, giving as good as she got and moving his hands from her waist to her hips as an invitation. His warm hands slipped under Y/N's uniform blouse, marvelling at the bare skin beneath his fingers. Bucky's thumbs caressed along her ribs and traced the edge of her bra before he pulled away, a smile playing on his lips when hers tried to follow - not wanting to stop kissing him. "Not out here, doll."

He took her hand, and together, they snuck into the barn. The Soldier helped her onto the ladder that led to the upper floor, bundles of fresh hay providing a safe hiding place for them to explore one another. Y/N's nimble fingers unbuttoned his shirt with practised ease, sliding it down his shoulders as she straddled him. Her palms pressed to his naked chest with splayed fingers as she stroked down his body teasingly. Then she was undoing his belt, whining a little when he captured her mouth and blocked her view of his body. Bucky undressed her whilst he busied his lips and tongue with hers, fingers stumbling at the fastening of her bra. Still, persevering, he managed to remove the garment, manoeuvring them so that she was laid out atop his jacket, protected from the prickly hay. Once more, she fought him to keep the kiss going rather than take a breath. Bucky wanted to admire her though. His breath hitched at the sight of her; it was one of those clichéd nights where the sky was clear and the moon bright enough to cast its light in through the windows and gaps in the barn's old roof.

Every curve, and dip, and groove of her body was bared to his hungry blue eyes. Bucky dropped his head down to slowly worship her body with his mouth, groaning into her skin when her hands wound into his hair. Suspenders were unsnapped from her stockings, and Bucky slid her underwear down over her hips. His hands left a hot trail down along her thighs and further down her calves as he pulled them free of her, catching her foot in his right hand; the Soldier pressed a kiss to the inside of her ankle. He felt her tug her foot a little in his grip and looked up in time to see her cover her face, "Hey, you don't gotta hide, pretty girl." His smile was reassuring when she braved a glimpse in his direction. "We can stop anytime you want. I'm not gonna get mad, I swear."

"It's not that." She wanted this so much, almost too much. "I'm not used to a guy taking his time like this. Or paying so much attention to me. It's embarrassing." Y/N had never been looked at like this, never had a partner who seemed to cherish her as much as Bucky was right at that moment, and she couldn't think of a time she ever felt so exposed.

Bucky placed her knees on either side of his hips and leaned over her. Keeping his weight on his forearms so that he could nuzzle into her neck, sighing softly into her perfumed skin. "You got nothing to be embarrassed about - not a damn thing. If we had more time, I'd show you what I can do with my mouth." He felt her shiver and brought his head up so that he could look her in the eye, a slow grin spreading on his face and his eyes darkened with mischievous lust. "Yeah, I caught you staring. I bet you know every little detail of my lips, and I bet you thought about more than me kissing you with them." Bucky could practically see the heat rising out of her, and it was all because of the sinful words he breathed into her flesh. He had no problem with gazing into her eyes, boring into her very being with his mesmerising blues. "You wanna be my girl until this stupid war is over?"

Her hands cupped his face, tracing his cheekbones and nodding slightly, "I think I'd like that..." His boyish grin was the last thing she saw before he was kissing her breathless with an addictive passion that she was determined to match. Bucky's hand found its way to the base of Y/N's spine and lifted her hips just so, and with a deep groan, he sheathed himself inside. She was ready for him and Bucky nearly choked as her thighs squeezed against his hips. He didn't need to murmur sweet encouragement to her; he didn't need to praise how tight her heat was as her body hugged him so perfectly, and it was one of the few times he was utterly tongue-tied.

Bucky rolled his hips, and Y/N mewled into his mouth; she moved with him as if they'd done this a thousand times before. They found an easy rhythm; hands grabbed and stroked and caressed wherever they could, again and again. Her hands carded through his hair, tugging at the brunette locks as if it were the only thing keeping her grounded. Whenever she pulled a little too hard, his thrusts would become a little harder, a little deeper. "God, doll," Bucky groaned. "So wet, so fucking wet for me - can't wait to get my tongue inside you. Gonna eat you up until you got nothing left for me." Bucky had slowed, grinding against her just right to make her whole body arch and tense, her mouth forming a sweet little 'o' as all sound became trapped in her chest. He grinned breathlessly, huffing out a small laugh before pressing his forehead to hers. "Lemme hear you, Y/N. Wanna hear my name outta your mouth so bad." Bucky hissed as her nails bit into his back, the fine sheen of sweat burning the marks and making his growl. He yanked her closer, driving into her slick heat desperately, her name becoming a mantra on his tongue – neither of them caring who heard it.

Y/N moaned, her body trembling so much that his grip became bruising - marks she would cherish in the morning. "B-Buc - Oh! Please... please, I'm... Bucky, I -!"

"Look at me." Obediently she found his eyes, her walls clenching around his cock as she did. "You're so fucking pretty. You feel amazing, doll." His tongue slid over his bottom before his teeth caught it; his gaze was so feral and raw that Y/N's felt her body clench. Her head fell back against the hay as she came undone for him - because of him. The brunette held her tight to himself. Smothering her yell with a hard kiss, he began to fuck her almost too harshly; his vision began to blur, and Bucky tore his mouth from hers in favour of crying out her name. Bucky caught himself before he could crush the nurse under him, falling to her right with a satisfied grin, both of them panting as if they had run a marathon.

They dressed quietly once they had cooled down, smiling at each other every time their eyes met and then helping the other neaten up their uniforms. Bucky held her hand all the way back to the dance hall, stealing kisses along the way and making sure she would get safely back to her barracks before heading to his own.

-

They were both deployed a week later. Bucky heading to the front lines whilst Y/N went to the field hospital.

Every time a soldier was brought in injured, Y/N silently prayed it wasn't him. The boys she took care of – and some of them were just boys, barely grown men – broke her heart. She watched them break both physically and mentally, missing limbs, and memories of their friends dying in front of them made for haunting nightmares. Screams and groans filled her ears day and nights.  

Y/N lost count of the dog tags she had had to collect from those that didn't make it.

By the time they were called back to England, the nurses felt as raw and as tired as the Soldiers; the glamour of helping their boys was sullied by blood, and no one wanted to go dancing at first. When Y/N finally plucked up the will to leave the dreary dorm she shared with her friends, she was surprised to find a familiar face. A brunette soldier halfway up the chainlink fence into the nurses' barracks. "…Bucky?"

His head jerked toward her, alarmed that he might have been caught trying to sneak in, but then he smiled big and bright. His eyes weren't as bright; no doubt he had seen the same horrors she had, but his smile was still boyish and his enthusiasm no less than before. Y/N watched him climb the rest of the way, wincing and looking around each time the fence let out a loud clatter, "Bucky, stop! You'll be arrested!" He jumped down from the fence and caught her in his arms, hugging her close and burying his nose into her hair – he'd missed her so much. "You're an idiot..." she admonished him fondly, her arms just as tight around him.

"You and your friends haven't left here in days. Me and the fellas were worried." He held her at arm's length, checking her over for any injuries; though nurses weren't in the fighting, they were still at risk. Every time he saw planes overhead or heard shelling in the distance - his heart throbbed painfully. He prayed she was safe, that she wasn't in danger. Bucky had worried that she might get hurt by a patient who had gone mad in all the violence. Seeing that she was okay, he pulled her to his chest again and let out a deep breath he hadn't known he was holding. "You gotta get out of here, doll. Thinking about what's happened won't help anyone... Hey?" Bucky looked down as Y/N hid her face into his shirt; she wound her arms around his middle and began to cry for the first time since she'd been deployed. "I'm here... I got you, Y/N, I'm not leaving you." Bucky held her tight and let her cry it all out.

-

It took a while for everything to fall back into place like it had been before. The American soldiers and the English soldiers still had disagreements; there were still fights, but there was a camaraderie there hadn't existed before deployments. The briefly, quiet and dreary nurses barracks came alive again as they would get ready and tease one another. "Y/N, do you think you and Bucky will go steady soon?"

"He broke into the barracks for her; they must already be steady - I wanna know when Susie is going to kiss that cute private!" Laughter lit up the room, and Y/N grinned as they made plans to set their friend up.

Bucky wasted no time grabbing his girl and pulling her in to dance, incredulous as Y/N tripped over her own feet and stepped on his toes. They snuck away from the crowded dancehall, like naughty children, to the barn – finding it padlocked. Y/N smacked his arm as he guffawed at the sight of it; the mystery of whether the farmer knew or not solved. Bucky picked Y/N up and carried her over a stone wall. His eyes searching for a suitable place to ravish her, both of them giggling when he got his boot stuck in a hole. They ended up in the middle of the field, laughing and checking they weren't going to be caught before Bucky made love to her in the tall grass.

The stroll back to her barracks was interrupted by his kisses, his body pressing hers against walls or trees. "This is me..."

"I guess it is." Bucky pilled Y/N into the shadows of the trees, the guarded gate within sight, "Y/N?"

His voice was quiet, still deep and pleasant to her ears, but it sounded so much softer than she could remember. "What is it?"

Bucky's fingers brushed along her cheeks, his lips pressing featherlight to hers before pulling back and licking his lips nervously. "I was just thinking... I was thinking that maybe you'd wanna marry me?"  

"I think I'd like that."

He kissed her until their lips were almost sore, and the light of a torch hit them. The guard grumbling at them and telling Y/N it was nearly curfew. She giggled at Bucky's lazy salute and blew him a kiss; he caught it and pressed it to his heart.

-

The warning sirens had been too late sounding when planes flew overhead, dropping shells from the sky with little accuracy – the explosions were scattered over the countryside. Flashing like lightning and making the ground tremble as they hit indiscriminately.

The nurses' barracks just collateral damage.

The only consolation was that they had been sleeping when the bombs hit, and Bucky hoped - he prayed - that they hadn't known. That they hadn't been frightened or suffered. Stretchers with bodies covered up in white linen were lined up along the road. He'd found Y/N and knelt beside her quietly, holding her cold hand that had slipped from the stretcher and rubbing the dirt from the gold band around her finger.

Tears fell silently down his cheeks, and guilt gnawed at his already aching chest, angry at himself that he hadn't been there to protect her and sad that he hadn't had longer to spend with her. Bucky pressed a lingering kiss to the back of Y/N's hand before tenderly placing it under the white sheet and standing up. He wiped his eyes on his sleeve, and stiffly, he began to walk away, his jaw clenched as frustrated anger began to fester inside his chest to dull the hurt. A fire was growing inside him that he hadn't had before, and he silently swore that if he had to walk to Germany to end this damn war, he'd do it.

Bucky stopped. He turned on his heel and stood at attention, saluting his girl with the silent promise to win this war for her.

[ladyeliot]

Sergeant Barnes.

Superhero vs Villain!Reader Prompts

Request: @imerdwarf  Ooooh I love your prompt idea!! Could I request #6 with Bucky Barnes please? 💜

Prompt #6:  "Wait, are we supposed to be enemies?"

Pairing: Superhero!Soldier!Bucky Barnes x Villain!Fem!Reader

Summary: You joined the Strategic Scientific Reserve with the sole intention of avenging your father's death.

Warnings: Violence. 💔  Angst. II WW.

Word count: 1761

A/N:  Sorry for my spelling and grammatical mistakes, English is not my native language, I am learning.

The day a Colt 45 M1911 pistol was pointed at your face, you realised how long the journey to that moment had been. Events in your life had led you to become a Hydra agent, infiltrated as an agent of the Strategic Scientific Reserve, a top-secret US agency during World War II.

The world seemed to have gone mad, war was turning people upside down, people were fighting each other for the honour of their country, and you were in the middle of the chaos.

You were born in the United States, your father had dedicated his entire life to honouring his country, practically gave his life in World War I, and in 1940 he and Chester Phillips founded the Strategic Scientific Reserve. However, all his efforts were in vain when he was sent on a secret life-and-death mission, causing him never to return. Your father was the only thing you had in your life, your guide and your hero, so you wanted to follow in his footsteps, to make him proud of you. Chester Phillips took you under his wing, as his right hand. He was the one who instructed you, who taught you everything you know, who allowed you to complete your first missions as SSR agents and who opened your eyes.

The United States entered the Second World War in 1941. During your third mission in Europe, in which you were to enter the secret Hydra base, Arnim Zola and Johann Schmidt were waiting for your arrival. After hours of suffering, both physical and mental, they made you understand that the mission your father was sent on was a trap, set by Chester Phillips who wanted to take over the supreme command of the SSR. It all made sense to you, everything was connected, your father could not have made such a stupid mistake as the one you had been led to believe he had died for, it must have been a trap.

Having brainwashed you, HYDRA let you return to the United States. You arrived with an idea in mind, an idea that Schmidt himself had introduced to you and that made you change your attitude, thinking of your revenge.

You had been in Italy for two months, where the 107th Infantry Regiment, led by Chester Phillips, was based. The American soldiers were fighting continuous battles against the Germans, managing to extend the frontier line. They were exhausted, hardly had any rest and their spirits were gradually failing, but your thoughts were elsewhere, not far away.

During the little missions you had done in Europe, you had had the occasional encounter again with Johann Schmidt. His level of persuasion was unmatched by any other your mind had ever felt, and inside you let yourself be carried away by his words. No one in the SSR knew anything, no one in the camp had any inkling of the situation and that was a plus for you.

One morning like any other you emerged from Colonel Phillips' tent, having been lectured on the importance of discipline because of his morning moodiness, having encountered two soldiers who had broken the time regulations. You were on your way to the intelligence tent, where, together with the regimental superiors, you would begin to analyse the German army's progress through Italy, but, as it happened, Sergeant Barnes accosted you.

"Lieutenant," he said, coming to your side and giving you the rigorous salute.

"Sergeant," you replied without looking at him and quickening your pace. "I don't have time for your games Sergeant Barnes, I have a lot to do this morning."

Bucky let out a small laugh and continued to stand next to you, combing his hair back with his hands, trying to look as decent as possible in front of you.

"As you know, there's a screening of Casablanca tonight, and I was wondering if you'd like to join me," he said with a crooked smile on his face. "I can pick you up at 8.00 p.m. if that's all right, Lieutenant.

You stopped dead in your tracks and frowned as you turned to face him, Bucky pulled himself upright without removing the half-smile from his face.

"Are you asking me out on a date, Sergeant?" you asked authoritatively, causing the smile on your partner's face to fade.

"Uh..." he hesitated. "That's right lieutenant."

"I don't think it's appropriate for you to ask me out on a date, Sergeant," you said, crossing your arms.

"And why is that, Lieutenant?" he asked amused. "Wait, are we supposed to be enemies?"

You arched an eyebrow in response to his question, and with extreme straightness you inspected every part of the soldier in front of you, and could see the lack of decorum in his uniform.

"And do you plan to come looking for me with the shirt tails out, the gallons askew and the tie not buttoned properly?" you asked, arching your right eyebrow, but your words elicited another smile from Bucky.

"Of course not, my lieutenant," he lifted his chin as he licked his lips.

"All right," you said, nodding. "Don't be late Sergeant Barnes."

With those last words, you made your way towards the intelligence tent, listening to the applause and cheers that the other soldiers offered Sergeant Barnes for getting an affirmative answer from you. The relationship between you and James could be described as one of mutual interest, but much more explicitly on his part, for since your arrival at the camp there had hardly been a day when he had tried to get your attention, and although you did not show it, you liked it.

Over the next few hours you found that the German army was slowly retreating, just as Johann Schmidt had informed you. Your plan was only to get Chester Phillips to him, but you had no intention of anyone else getting hurt in your revenge.  

By late afternoon, the sun was low enough to enjoy the screening. The regiment had not been able to take a break for months and this was their first entertainment, so spirits were high. Your first thought was to put your uniform back on, it wouldn't do to go out without it, but you decided that a night was a night, and you needed to take a break too, even if it was only for a couple of hours at least. In your suitcase you found an evening dress, which you wore during your mission to the French capital, it was discreet, but perfect.

You were just finishing your hair when a voice was heard just outside your tent.

"Lieutenant Y/L/N?" exclaimed Sergeant Barnes' voice.

"I'll be right out Sergeant."

After taking a last look at yourself in a small hand mirror you took a deep breath and headed for the exit. As you pulled back the curtain James Barnes' blue eyes swept over your body, making a sweeping inspection and taking his breath away. You arched an eyebrow in recognition of the event, while at the same time downplaying it due to the situation you were in. You more subtly noticed that he looked completely different from that morning, his uniform was impeccable and there were no longer any locks on his face.

"You're..." his mouth was still open without providing any words.

"Shall we go, Sergeant?" you asked waiting for him to react.

"Of course, Lieutenant," he finally said offering you his arm but not taking his eyes off you. "You look really beautiful."

"Thank you, Sergeant," that was one of the few times you gave him a smile. "You're not bad yourself."

You were both heading towards the central esplanade of the camp, where the film had been set up to be shown. It all happened very quickly, the siren started to sound, the spotlights around the area flashed blinding you and countless shouts from the soldiers filled the air. You looked around you, it was an ambush, James pulled out a weapon he had on him and wrapped his arms around you. It didn't take you long to react, because you quickly pulled out a revolver you had hidden in the garter of your stockings and took aim, looking for a shot. Bucky looked at you a little surprised.

"Don't lose sight of the target, Sergeant," you said, taking him by the arm and hiding behind your tent.

The HYDRA soldiers were numerous, perhaps even double your numbers, and you had to take into account that you were unprepared for this abominable ambush. You pulled a knife from your cleavage and slit the back of your tent so that you could both quickly reach inside and grab the weapons you kept inside. Bucky had your back and you quickly made your way to the boot hidden under your desk.

"Don't you dare take another step," Sergeant Barnes' voice drifted towards the entrance door.

In front of you stood Johann Schmidt with his hands raised and a smile on his lips. 

"I see you have security," he said in a thick German accent. "But don't worry, she doesn't need it."

You stood up slowly and looked at him seriously.

"This is not what we had planned," you said hating yourself that Sergeant Barnes heard those words, making you known as a traitor.

"I was tired of waiting," Schmidt shrugged.

James, completely stunned and lost for words, didn't know what to do or which of the two of you to watch. 

"I told you I would hand you over to Colonel Phillips," you reminded Schmidt, filled with hatred inside you. 

"And I have come for him," he approached you.

"Then take him and go," you spat those words. 

"I will," he said, smiling, slowly walking past you, approaching Bucky.

You stood watching the situation, you knew you were lost, the power you possessed had fallen from your hands, you were in no man's land. James who all that time was pointing his gun at Johann Schmidt suddenly looked into your eyes and changed his aim, you had his gun pointed directly at your face. Your countenance did not change, you kept a serious look on your face, watching him. His hands were shaking and his breathing was rapid, he didn't know what to do. Schmidt looked amused as he watched the situation in silence. 

"Do what you have to do sergeant," you said, clenching your jaw tightly. "My mission is accomplished.

Tag list: @imerdwarf​ @mycosmicparadise​ 

Requests/Taglist Open (DM)

MAIN MASTERLIST

[a-man-for-hire-and-his-archives]

TV heart-throb Luke Arnold channels his inner pirate

HE THRILLED audiences as charismatic rock legend Michael Hutchence. Now, heart-throb Luke Arnold is returning to TV screens to unleash his inner pirate.

HE THRILLED audiences with his performance as Aussie rock legend Michael Hutchence. Now TV heart-throb Luke Arnold is back for a second season of pirate drama Black Sails.

And, as he tells Holly Byrnes, the role comes with plenty of perks.

“AFTER doing two seasons of Black Sails, with (Channel 7 telemovie) Never Tear Us Apart in the middle and the press obligations that went along with it, I had to take the last filming hiatus off. So I just travelled Europe and visited friends, drank a lot of beer and it was really great.

“Bars are a great gauge of the reach of (Black Sails) ... which I think is now airing in about 140 countries. The same thing happened to me in Dublin, London and the Netherlands ... you’d go to pay for drinks and someone behind the bar would say, ‘no, this one’s on me, I love Black Sails.’

Pirate kings ... Arnold (as John Silver) and co-star Toby Stephens (as James Flint). Picture: Foxtel

“I definitely don’t get mobbed anywhere, but when you’re known as a pirate, I end up having to drink a lot of rum. I like drinking rum anyway, but I get lots of people buying me shots of rum around the world, which I have to say is one of the perks of the job. Just like when I was shooting INXS and definitely playing a pirate, you get to step into the shoes of some pretty charismatic guys. Maybe a little bit of that has rubbed off, but I’m definitely not as cool as Hutch in real life, unfortunately.

X factor ... Luke Arnold won acclaim for his stunning transformation as INXS frontman Michael Hutchence in Channel 7’s telemovie, INXS Never Tear Us Apart. Picture: Seven.

“While we were shooting, I definitely let myself probably strut a bit more but I’ve had to regress back to more of my normal self. When you get a role like (Michael Hutchence), even though it’s gone so well, there’s still this voice in the back of your mind that says, "did I screw it up?"

So the (AACTA nomination) was just one of those nice little things to reassure me that maybe the whole thing went okay.

“On Black Sails this season, there’s a massive arc for (character) Silver. The most interesting thing for me was exploring the relationship with Flint and working with (actor) Toby Stephens ... it’s so much fun.

“Going toe-to-toe with someone like him was such a learning experience and a real joy. At the beginning of season one, (Silver) just wanted that bit of gold and then to get the hell out of there. But I think, without getting too far ahead, he’s someone who never wants to rely on anyone else and doesn’t want anyone relying on him.

Pirate king ... Arnold plays John Silver in showcase drama, Black Sails. Picture: Foxtel.

“The benefits of the camaraderie that life on a pirate ship offers starts to emerge and for him, the potential that maybe there could be a bit of a leader in him, which is something I don’t think he ever anticipated. Back in England at that time, the class system being as rigid as it was there was no chance from the life he came from to ever be anything more. Suddenly, in this world, it kind of opens his eyes that he could be something that he never could have been back home. Even though it’s a much more dangerous world, and there’s more risk involved, he realises maybe there’s something to be gained by spending a bit more time in the pirate world. We start to see shadows of the man he will become ... the legend we know in Treasure Island.”

Source: Herald Sun Australia

[lilyofthestyx]

Aeipathy: Chapter Two

Disclaimer: i don’t (unfortunately) own Marvel or any of their characters, plot points, etc. so all right are to them and their our overlord Disney

AN: yeahhhh this one’s a shorty but i promise the next one will be longer and filled with plot and angst and shit so prepare yourselves <3

Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 3.1k

TW: angst, mentions of torture, mentions of murder/arson, HYDRA collectively is a prick

Chapter One is available here!

   Gnawing. 

   It claws through my body on all fours. Tearing, ripping, hacking, burning. 

   Monstrous fangs that sink into the deepest parts of muscle- I can feel it in my bones, the burning. 

  There is no noise, just the sound of whirring and the unholy screeching of demons in my ears. Faceless demons, demons whose faces have too much detail, demons that stare, demons that scream. Demons, demons, demons. 

   I have fallen. Fallen from grace. Fallen from…

   No, no. 

   I am falling. 

   Something catches me. A savior in blue. Scarlet red smeared across their chest. Blood. My blood- the blood of sinners and saints and bystanders. Of children and ancients and of rich and poor. 

   There’s white streaked between the red. Piety. Purity. Righteousness. Desperately, I cling to the stark white stripes. Indecipherable mumbles pass my lips as I stare at the white. I beg for purity, to be clean again.

   Every time I wake up, it’s always the same. 

   The immovable weight in my body. The unceasing shivering. The bite of frost. The writhing of filth in my veins. In my nerves. In every fiber of my being. Festering. Growing. Rotting. Corrupting. Remembering. 

   But why can’t I remember?

   All I can remember are the demons. Faceless, nameless but never silent. Always screaming.

   Screaming, screaming, screaming. 

   I cling to the white. The righteousness of my savior. Solidity in turbulence. Silence in cacophony. Purity. Cleanliness. Life. 

   I cling to life. 

   But life burns under my fingertips. It shrieks and squirms under my touch- tries to escape. Repelled by my presence, it retracts away from my grasp.

   Color retracts into shapes as I take in my surroundings. An almost completely empty room completely made of concrete. A single contraption behind me made of metal. Icy fog slithers out of the open door, hissing and flicking at my ankles. 

   Words, however, remain blurred. The savior holds me upright- pulls me to my feet. Everything burns and aches. I’m so incredibly cold. Frosted water paints my skin, coats my clothes to my body. A puddle gathers beneath the writhing fog. 

   This seems familiar. 

   My eyes turn up towards my savior. The blood-stained guardian. Words fall from their lips, landing on deaf ears. 

   My body trembles as the cold becomes more vicious with its fangs. The savior turns away and says something. Everything is muffled- faraway and distant and like someone has their hands clamped down over my ears. 

   “Why am I awake?” I ask, straightening up. Every inch of me quivers while every part of me wishes to stop. 

   But I was awoken for a purpose. My mission.

   And I’ll complete it. 

   Hail HYDRA.

Location: S.H.I.E.L.D. Headquarters

Date: 2012

   “Woah, easy, ________,” I mutter, holding her upright. Her eyes wide, they flick around the room. Her hands grip my chest as she shakes violently. 

   She’s here. She’s alive. 

   She… she died. Died on that table- how is this…

   “Steve,” Tony mutters, holding out a blanket. I take it and start to wrap it around her shoulders. 

   As her glazed eyes lock with mine, I look over her face. She’s drained of color- blue and white. Her chapped blue lips open and close violently.

   Hoarsely, she starts to speak. 

   But not anything I can understand. 

   Over and over, she repeats questions with her eyes wide and wary of every moment and movement. My eyes dart over to Tony- who watches ________, his eyebrows furrowed. 

   Russian. 

   That’s what she’s speaking. Russian. And fluently. Extremely well. Why… Why is she…?

   “She didn’t… usually speak like this, did she?” Tony asks, gesturing vaguely to her as she continues to shake in my arms. Broken words off a stolen tongue hiss past her lips. She furrows her eyebrows as she looks between the two of us. 

   “Her files told me she was-” Tony continues. 

   “She’s… she’s never spoken this before,” I mutter, adjusting my grip under her arms. “Raised in Brooklyn for most’a her life- I dunno why-”

   “V chem... moya missiya?” ________ hisses, her voice shaking. I look down and watch her straighten up on unsteady legs. “V chem moya missiya?” 

   “...why is she…?” Tony mutters, stepping in front of her. He lets his head fall back with a sigh as he taps his leg with his finger. “It’s been a long time, let’s see if I can do this.” Rolling his shoulders back and snapping his neck, he focuses back on ________. “Kto ty?”

   ________’s head tilts to the side slightly. Her eyebrows furrow further as she glares at him through them. “...Hetaerae. V chem moya missiya?”

   Tony sighs and closes his eyes as he speaks. “Ch… chto… ty. Chto ty?”

   Her eyes glaze over as she stops shaking, standing upright. “Ya HYDRA.”

   “...she’s… She died, Tony. I don’t… I don’t know what else to tell you,” I mutter, looking up from the desk. “She… she died before I even got the serum. I hadn’t even seen Doctor Erskine- Bucky… he hadn’t been shipped off to Europe yet.”

   “I may be able to help explain that,” Tony says as he gets to his feet. In his hand is a thick folder filled with papers and photos and notes and scraps of paper. He places it in front of me with a thud. “Apologies- I would opt for the digital version but, uh… you… don’t even know what... that… is.”

   “Tony,” I say sharply as I open the folder. He just shrugs and sits down across the table again. The top paper is mostly blacked-out with a few words left untouched. ________’s name. Her age. Her parents and their causes and dates of death. And other words that… don’t make sense. ‘Mistress’. ‘Replication’. ‘Improvement’. ‘Rejected’. ‘Baroness’. ‘Salbei’.

   ‘Hetaerae’. 

   Repeated over and over throughout the sea of black streaks is that word. ‘Hetaerae’. At the very bottom of the page in tiny letters are the words ‘Project Samsara- Hetaerae’. In the corner is a skull with tentacles writhing beneath it. ‘HYDRA’ is written along the curve of the skull. 

   My stomach churns. If HYDRA really is behind this then...

   I start tearing into the folder. Photos of the various angles of the steel container from when I woke up. Under it is a handwritten note. ‘Cryo-container; Vrsn: Hetaerae’. 

   Another photo- this one of a chair. On the armrests and legs are cuffs, along with another one on the back of the chair. Something metal comes around the chair. It juts off the side of a machine and looms over it like an archway. A note is written over the photo. ‘Neck brace may prematurely terminate subject. Issue logged during first programming session’.

   Another blacked-out stack of papers. The same words are repeated over and over again. ‘Hetaerae’, ‘Baroness’, ‘Samsara’, ‘Salbei’, ‘HYDRA’. My fists clench the papers before tossing them to the side. Tony watches in silence. 

   What the Hell is this? What were they doing- what did ________ have to do with it? 

   My eyebrows furrow as I manically flip through the papers. Papers fly to the side as I tear through the folder. I can feel myself getting rigid as I near the end. 

   Nothing. I’ve learned nothing. Not a single goddamn thing. There’s nothing here- 

   My hands stop as my eyes rest on the last few items. A file not blacked out. It’s completely intact. Nothing scratched, no scribbles, no hasty lines cutting through words. I snatch it and start reading. 

Project Samsara; Hetaerae

Subject Name: ________ Bishop

Subject Age: 26

Subject Info:

Daughter of Leon Bishop (deceased) and Catherine Chambers (deceased)

Resident of Brooklyn, NY

Military background

Non-combatant medic

Attempted pilot training

Worked under Doctor Akin Nachtnebel- HYDRA researcher

Personal friend of Captain Steven G. Rogers, Sergeant James B. Barnes, political activist Odessa Lily Mae Ababio

Official status: Deceased

Simplified Process Log (see file 178953 for detailed logs):

Day 1: 

Body retrieved by HYDRA. 

Blood and tissue samples taken. 

Heart/respiration rates taken. 

Note: Hetaerae seems to be semi-lucid. May require sedation. 

Day 13:

Serum incubation complete. 

Visible changes in body structure internal and external. 

Bone density increased slightly, muscle mass increased, other changes to be tested.

Day 23:

Regen. abilities test positive

Enhanced reflexes test positive

Body modifications test optimal

Note: Hetaerae seemed to negatively respond to pain. Possible weakness. Must train to not respond.

Day 68:

First programming session prematurely terminated. Hetaerae reacted negatively to programming.

Admitted to medical wing. 

Near strangulation and bruised trachea. 

Removing neck cuff on programming station and attempting again tomorrow. 

Day 100:

Programming temporarily successful. 

Hetaerae could not recall set of numbers given pre-programming for forty minutes. 

Memory wipe testing will continue.

Day 173:

Hetaerae admitted to medical wing for treatment. 

Major vocal cord damage. 

Damage not irreversible. 

Memory wipe testing will continue.

Note: Hetaerae begged for ‘Steve’ and ‘Bucky’ repeatedly during memory wipe. More research needed.

Day 234:

Three guards admitted to medical wing. 

Hetaerae had clawed at their eyes, noses, ears, and mouths

Broken nails were taken from guards’ faces.

Admitted samples for research.

Extra-long memory wipe testing done. 

Hetaerae will be allowed a day to rest after strenuous session. Cannot allow for subject’s termination.

Day 250:

Near disaster.

Hetaerae attempted escape.

Four guards killed. Two more seriously injured.

Must increase security.

Note: Hetaerae lethal before combat training. A promising candidate. Akin, in his paranoia, chose well.

Day 276:

Hetaerae broke free of restraints during memory wipe.

Too exhausted to attempt escape. 

Memory wipe has prevented Hetaerae from remembering subject name.

Will begin codeword implantation process tomorrow. 

Day 342:  

Hetaerae begins Samsara training tomorrow. 

Complete memory wipe achieved. 

Hetaerae is the only thing within subject.

Day 3658:

Samsara training complete.

Winter Soldier co-training complete.

Complete memory wipe complete.

Codeword implantation complete. 

Hetaerae to be placed in cryo to await orders.

Hail HYDRA. 

HYDRA status: Active. Ready for use.

   “Look at her track record,” Tony mutters, sliding a thick wad of papers over to me. Turning away, I shake my head. “...fine. I’ll read it for you.” He huffs, flipping through the various pages. “Uh… her first mission was to…” he scoffs, “To take out a mid-level politician that had apparently laid his eyes on something he shouldn’t have. ‘Mission: success, target: terminated’.”

   “Tony…” I warn quietly, my shoulders getting tenser with each word. 

   “A few missions later, she’s retrieving lab samples and… and destroying the lab... Fourteen people killed. ‘Mission: success, targets: terminated’.”

   “Tony.”

   “I’m skimmin’ here, Cap, but listen- an orphanage in Saint Petersburg, a… a couple in Prague, a woman in Athens, a man in Cairo...” Tony continues skimming through the pages. “‘Mission: success, target: terminated’, ‘Mission: success, target: terminated’, ‘Mission: success, target: terminated’-”

   “Enough!” I snap, turning to look at him. 

   Tony sighs and puts the papers down. Running a hand down his face, he purses his lips. “Dunno how else t’tell ya this, Cap- she’s dangerous. She has killed hundreds of people. She can speak seven languages, she can infiltrate a political atmosphere and topple it, she can... camouflage in any… social situation, she has a perfect kill record... Whoever she was before-”

   “She’s still in there,” I cut in. “She’s still in there.”

   Tony rolls his eyes. “Are… are you not... hearing what I’m telling you?” He gestures to the original folder. “They laid into her for… ten years. Subjected her to torture. Wiped her slate clean. Whatever was in there, pal, it’s long gone.”

   A huff leaves my lips. “...you don’t know what she was like,” I mumble coldly, reminiscing over what it was like to live with her, to live with her at my side like I was at hers. “She was… the most... hard-headed… stubborn dame I’d ever met. And strong, too.”

   “Rogers-”

   “She’s still in there, Tony,” I snap, my eyes flicking up to him. “She’s strong.”

   “Good morning.” I say, waving at ________ as she sits on the chair. Her breathing is steady, eyes trained on the opposite side of the room. Her wrists are handcuffed to the armests- the same with her ankles. They clink slightly as she breathes. 

   The room is completely empty except for another chair across from hers. My shield lays against the chair- ‘a precaution’ Fury called it. 

   ‘A threat’ is what I would call it. 

   I step further into the room and sit down on the chair. With glazed eyes, she watches me. “Are… those too tight?” I ask, gesturing to the cuffs. 

   She says nothing. Only blinks in response. 

   She… she looks so empty. 

   Her face was always glowing, her smile illuminating the clinic when Buck and I would walk in to bring her lunch or just to bug her. Letters would flood in every now and then from past patients or their families, thanking her for her patience and kindness. She would keep them all in a shoebox under her bed.

   And her hands. She would wrap bandages around my wounds with care. She’d always tell me to not get it in my head to fight again… and then ask where the punks lived so she could ‘pay them a visit’. Her hands were always feather-soft when checking every injury’s progress. 

   Now they look… darker. Not in color but just… darker. 

   Stained.  

   Did she know what she was doing when she killed those people?

   ________ shifts slightly, the sound of the handcuffs pulling me out of my head. I clear my throat and straighten up. “...do you know who I am?” I ask quietly. 

   No response. 

   “Do you know who you are?”

   “Haetarae.” She answers, eyes still glazed. 

   “Do you… do you know who you actually are?”

   ________’s eyes narrow for just a moment. “...HYDRA.”

   “No. No,” I mutter, pointing to my chest. “...do you know who I am?”

   ...nothing. 

   “Steve. I’m Stevie. We… we grew up in Brooklyn together. With Bucky. We, um… Buck ‘nd I, we helped you out of a fight when you were thirteen. That’s how we met… you… remember that…?”

   She blinks, eyes scanning over me. 

   Getting up from my seat, I reach into my pocket and tug a photo of the three of us out of my pocket. It was taken after she had gotten her nursing credentials. We had gone out dancing, just the three of us. We found someone willing to take our photo. A smile crosses my lips as I look down at it. 

   Colors start to fade into the black and white photo. Every detail is so crisp. ________’s chin is resting on my head as she stands behind me- a bright, red-lipped smile on her face. Her arms are wrapped around my chest as she leans over. Her hair is done perfectly- up with roses in her hair. Neat and tidy like she practiced. The skirt of her dress is the same shade of red as her lips. Black dots pattern the fabric of the skirt. The bodice was black- matching her heels. Hooked through her elbows was a creme-colored fur boa. 

   Bucky’s got his arm around her waist and he ducks down to my level. He holds a pressed black suit, wearing a red undershirt. His suit jacket is hung over his shoulder with his undershirt’s sleeves rolled up. I remember him shining his shoes that day while ________ meticulously placed roses in her hair. Bucky had sewn and hemmed my pants with pride. ‘It’s a special day, punk’, he mumbled with the needle between his lips, ‘can’t have ya trippin’ on your pant legs.’ 

   She shifts again and I’m pulled right back into now. ________ sits in front of me. No smile, no roses, no brightness. And Bucky… Bucky’s dead and gone. Lost a long, long time ago. Slowly, I hold out the photo. “...see?” I mumble, “That’s me… before I… had a growth spurt. And that’s Buck.”

   I look up to her. She’s focused on the photo, eyes slightly squinted and head tilted to the side just barely. “...Buck ‘nd you,” I laugh quietly. “He… he was… so crazy about you. He just… never realised it.”

   The door behind us cracks open. Her body snaps tightly, eyes back to glazed. Tony peeks his head into the room and tilts it back. “Eyepatch wants you.”

   I sigh. Looking back at ________, I tuck the photo into her hand. Slowly, her fingers wrap around it delicately. I nod once and start out of the room. As the door swings shut, I spare one last look. ________ looks down at the photo, her head slightly tilting once more.

   “It may be our only option,” Fury sighs. “She’s unpredictable at best.”

   “She’s still in there- if I can just… keep talking with her-”

   “That is out of the question,” he says firmly, eye flicking up to me. “...you’re too close on this one, Rogers. I’m making the executive decision to-”

   Lights start to flash overhead- red and screaming. A wailing buzz rips out of the hallway as the red light bathes us in scarlet. The door slams open, Tony standing in the doorway, panting. Fury slowly gets out of his seat, eye wide. 

   “She… She got out,” Tony mutters, gesturing outside.

   My body launches forward as I run into the hallway. People are running, an anxious chatter swarming around them as they pass just in front of me. As I push into the main hallway, elbows and chests are thrown into me. Flicking to each person, my eyes catch the room where ________ was held. The door is almost completely torn off the hinges- the wood cracked at the handle. 

   I start to push through the sea of people. Like water, they throw themselves against me- eager to leave the building and get the hell out of harm’s way. But as I make my way to the door and push out the other side of the tempest, I can see the dangling cuffs still hanging around the armrests. 

   My fingers graze the splintering wood door, tracing the ridges of where her fingers had dug into the wood- leaving grooves in the shape of her hand. The hinges look relatively new as they hang lifelessly off the wall. The debris littering the floor is kicked around, leaving a partial trail down the hallway. I follow with a solid grip on my shield. 

   “________?” I hiss, looking around the empty hallway. Everything is dimmed by the red lights and the screaming of the alarms haven’t stopped. “________!” 

   I round a corner and every adrenaline-fueled tension melts away. At the very end of the hallway is a floor-to-ceiling window. Broken glass lays at the base of a gaping hole. 

   She’s gone.