#i heat that puppy up so its the hottest thing besides my hand and she still acts like she cant see it

[the-mighty-python]

u ever have a night where your snake is record breakingly bad at striking their food. she could win medals with how much she hit the doors and hides around her and not the rat dangling an inch from her face

[bagels-and-seagulls]

54 for Davenzi pls. The locker kiss

Against a Locker kiss (did u mean hot jock david with his awkward bf day of a football match? because that’s what this prompt told me)

check it out on ao3

Jonas slid up beside Matteo and slammed against the locker next to his, landing with a clang and making Matteo jump up a little on his toes. “Are you going to game tonight?” He asks in a rush, and Matteo barely has the second to process it before Jonas asks again. “Are you going or not?” There was a little more whine in his voice this time around. 

“To what?” Matteo asks slowly, grabbing the last book he needed and shutting the door to his locker with a click. 

“The game.” 

“What game?” 

“The football game obviously. You know, the one that your so-called boyfriend is the captain of.” 

“So-call- Don’t say it like that. He’s my actual boyfriend,” Matteo mumbles and turns away to start walking to class. 

Jonas follows right on his heels. “Well, that certainly would be a lot more believable if we ever actually saw you guys together-” 

“I’m a catch you know,” he interrupts, tired of having to explain to everyone he tells that him and David Schreibner, yes that David Schreibner, social king and hottest guy in the whole school, were in fact dating. Boyfriends, if you will. Matteo certainly does. 

“If you’re a catch, David is a fucking whale, and we both knows that’s true. Anyways, the game.” 

“I’m meeting my mom for dinner tonight. I already had to reschedule.” 

Jonas scoffs. “Likely excuse.” 

“It’s true,” Matteo rolls his eyes. “Besides, you’ve never been interested in football before. Something about capitalism and sports empires and socially approved violence, if I remember right.”

“That was before I saw you stashing a jersey in your bag that for sure does not belong to you,” Jonas dramatically looks into where Matteo’s bag is still slightly unzipped. 

“It’s David’s. He asked me to wear it to the game,” Matteo turns around the corner with his cheeks burning brightly at the confession. God, he felt like a fucking cliche when David had brought it up. Felt even more like one because he feels so giddy about it, like some teenage girl, twirling her pigtails around her fingers and popping bumble gum when her crush comes up to talk to her.

“So you are-”

“I already told him there was a chance I couldn’t go. There will be more games.” 

“So you’re going to wear it later then?” Jonas asks with an obvious glee in his voice and lightness in his step. 

Matteo rolls his eyes again, afraid her ears were fucking scarlet at this point. “I have to go. Byyyye,” he drawls out and enters his classroom. 

His phone buzzes, and he pulls it out to check it. 

⚽Da.Vid💋: 

What were you and Jonas talking about?

You looked like a tomato haha

Teo🍝❤️: 

stop spying on me weirdo

⚽Da.Vid💋: 

I haven’t seen my super cute boyfriend in like two days can you blame me for looking?

Teo🍝❤️ : 

super cute bf? do i kno him? dont tell me its jonas

⚽Da.Vid💋 :

You caught me. I’ve been hanging out with you for weeks just to get into Jonas’ pants. 

Teo🍝❤️ :

he asked me if i was going to the game

and he made fun of for the jersey thing

⚽Da.Vid💋 :

I see you’re not wearing it 👀👀

Will I still get to see you before? 

Teo🍝❤️ : 

its itchy

and everyone would jsut think i stole it like a creep

meet you after school? 

“Mr. Florenzi,” a sharp, nasally voice calls out. Matteo looks up from his phone, and the entire class is watching him as the teacher stares, her arms crossed in front of her chest. “Is there something you wanted to share with the class?” 

“No,” he answers, and he catches Amira laughing at him out the corner of his eye. 

“Gotta be better than that,” she whispers, and Matteo just flicks her off with an exaggerated scowl. 

He doesn’t get a chance to check it until he’s halfway to Spanish. 

⚽Da.Vid💋:

I’ll get a matching one with Florenzi and a bowl of pasta.

We’ll be best dressed of the year. 

I’ll meet you at your locker after PE

Time ticks kind of slowly after that. Matteo wasn’t able to keep track of what was going on in class, scribbling down random doodles during all the lectures and looking up at Amira with puppy dog eyes until she rolled her and showed him her answers, and during lunch, Carlos and Jonas were busy working on some German paper in the library. Abdi spent the entire thing talking about Sam, and her eyes, and her laugh, and her hair, and yadda yadda yadda. Matteo stopped listening halfway though. Same old. Same old, he thought. He’s heard it all before. 

After what feels like a small eternity, or maybe just an average couple of hours, Matteo manages to make it to his locker. His locker that was currently sans any David near it. Matteo pouted at the sight and started shoving his books in some haphazard format inside, thinking that this game of tetris he had with all his stuff might pass the time a little. 

He hears quick footsteps come up besides him, and he turns, expecting to see his devastatingly dashing boyfriend, but was disappointed with just Jonas. He must notice when Matteo deflates a little because he says, “It’s good to see you too, man,” with a dramatic frown. 

“Sorry,” Matteo says, and bumps their fists together. “David is meeting me after gym.” 

“Did I hear my name?” Matteo shuts his locker and sees David smiling brightly back at him. His hair is sticking to his forehead, and his cheeks are flushed, probably from PE class still. Wow, Matteo thinks. He really was a teenage girl. He thinks he might be swooning a little bit. “Na?” He asks when Matteo doesn’t say anything, his eyes flicking down to Matteo’s lips from his eyes quickly. 

“Na,” Matteo repeats dumbly. His mouth feels kind of dry, and he really remembers that they haven’t seen each other in two days all of a sudden. 

“Um,” Jonas drawls out, fiddling with his bag straps awkwardly. Matteo almost feels like it serves him right from the amount of times he’s been the third wheel for him, but decides that he probably should save him after all. 

“Oh, uh, Jonas, you know David, right?” Matteo says and takes half a step back so they could all look at each other better. 

David nods and raises his hand. “Yeah, yeah,” Jonas agrees and meets David halfway. “We had math together right?” 

“Something like that,” David laughs and takes half a step back into Matteo’s space until their shoulders were brushing. 

“Well, uh, I’ve gotta run. Uh, Carlos and I are meeting. Yeah. See you tomorrow, bro?” Matteo nodded and they bumped elbows. “See you, David,” Jonas waves, and then wonders off, giving Matteo a smug look as he left. 

“That was, uh,” David starts and then stops with a laugh. 

“Weird,” Matteo finishes for him. “That was weird.” 

“Yeah, a little,” David agrees, scrunching up his nose cutely. “So.” 

“So,” Matteo repeats and leans against his locker. 

David leans in close, and Matteo can feel the heat off of him. “Laura will be out tonight, if you wanted to come over after the game.” 

“What are you implying, Mr. Schreibner? I’m not easy, you know.” 

“I’m making no comment about that,” David replies with a smirk.��“But it would be very nice to have my very cute boyfriend come over to celebrate tonight.”

Matteo hums. “Seems confident of you to plan a celebration before you even play. I’ll have you know I only hang out with the real winners.”  

“Well, if a win is what it takes to get you to come over, then that’s plenty of motivation to score a few goals,” David mutters into the side of Matteo’s face and kisses him sweetly right next to the lockers. 

[cooperjones2020]

To breathe the fire we was born in

Summary: Filling the prompt “Smut or rather smut with feelings where Jughead wants to have sex with Betty while they look at themselves in the mirror, but she's feeling insecure about watching herself. He persuades her to do it, because watching her come is the hottest thing he has ever seen and he wants her to see that too.” Also turned into fluff and domestic/vacation/future!bughead. Also Dom!Jug cause that’s just how I roll.

A/N: Soundtrack to this fic is (obviously, as you will see) Springsteen’s “Born to Run” album, specifically the A side, but really you should just listen to all of it.Title’s from “Backstreets” off that same album.

Word Count: 3,026

Rating: E (aka smutty smut smut below the jump)

ao3—>http://archiveofourown.org/works/11791893

It’s their last night in the little log cabin in the mountains. From her seat on the porch step, Betty watches as the watercolour sunset melts away, only to be replaced by a circus troupe of lightning bugs.  She stretches out and crosses her legs, brown and bare under a loose dress, and leans back on her hands. Dried dirt falls off her toes in clouds of dust from where she’d tiptoed through the mud in search of cattail stalks and garlic mustard for their salad earlier.

The screen door behind her bangs shut and she tilts her head back to watch, upside down, as her boyfriend hands her a glass of wine and comes to sit beside her.

She shuffles closer to rest her head on his shoulder and slips her arm through his. The night air is still muggy, so the skin of his shoulder is damp where it comes out of the strap of his white tank top.

“I’m not ready to go home.”

“Me either.”

“Are you sure we have to go back?”

“I got no less than five texts from Archie yesterday about what a little monster Scout is being. I normally don’t get that many texts from him in a week.”

Betty laughs. “I got some from Veronica too. In retrospect, we probably shouldn’t have left a fifty pound sheepdog puppy with a guy who forgets to feed himself sometimes and a girl who thinks dogs should fit in purses so you can carry them on the subway.”

“Yeah well, you live and you learn. But that’s tomorrow’s problem.” Jughead turns and kisses Betty’s hair before resting his cheek on her head. “Tonight, the real world doesn’t exist. I have twelve more hours of having you all to myself.”

“Plus the two and half hours back to Riverdale and then three more home.”

“You’re sure we have to have lunch with your mother?”

“Stop it,” Betty nudges him with the elbow looped through his. “Mom’s really excited. And we haven’t been home since Polly’s wedding.”

“I know.” Jughead releases a long-suffering sigh. “I’m just not looking forward to more pointed comments about you busting your ass and your earning potential and the ‘instability of artistic careers.’ I know you’re basically supporting me and this relationship isn’t fifty fifty right now, but—”

“The book will sell, Jug.”

“Yeah. And maybe I’ll get lucky and there’ll be an email from my agent waiting for me.”

“Hey, we said no email-checking on this trip.”

“I’ll wait till we’re within the town limits. Then if there’s nothing, I’ll have at most five minutes to be disappointed before Alice Cooper commandeers all my brain cells.”

Betty smiles up at him, the corner of her lips curving down. “C’mere.”

Jughead tilts his head down toward her and she captures his lips in a kiss. Neither makes a move to deepen it, so it’s sweet, smouldering with the promise of things both past and to come. She sighs when she lets go and when she opens her eyes, Jughead’s are still closed, a dreamy smile on his face. More than ten years and, still, she feels that sweet ache in her chest whenever she looks at him. She lifts her glass and it catches the light, reflecting the facets of the new weight on her left hand.

“Now then, if this is to be our last night in Eden, I want you to dance with me.” Their cabin had come with a turntable and a collection of classic rock vinyls that had caused JB to text her a disturbingly long string of emojis when Betty sent her a photo a couple of days ago. When Jughead refilled their wine just now, he put on Springsteen’s “Born to Run” album, and so the music floats out the window on the evening breeze.

He opens his eyes and squints at her. “Only because it’s our last night.” Then he kisses her on the tip of the nose and pulls her to her feet.

After a minute or two of awkward shuffling, they find a rhythm, barefoot on the bare dirt. Her nails scratch at the nape of his neck and his thumb sweeps across the back of her hand where he holds it.

By the third track, Jughead gets into it, twirling her and dipping her with a skill that she knows he has, but that always surprises her when it emerges. He swallows her laugh in a kiss while she’s bent back, then he launches her forward, catching her against his chest and hugging her tight. Eventually, they settle into a gentle sway, her face in his neck and his arm wrapped around the small of her back, fingers brushing the space between her hip bone and her ribs.

Their mellow rocking lulls her into a trance so that she doesn’t even notice when the music stops. But Jughead breaks it with a husky whisper in her ear: “Have you thought any more about my idea?”

She rubs her cheek on his shoulder before looking up at him. “Yeah, but I’m just not sure about…um, about it.”

“Well, not to put any pressure on you, but we are running out of time.”

She murmurs, “Mhm.”

“And, you know, we’ve done much kinkier shit than this. I seem to recall a certain favourite Hitchcock blonde of mine in a leather get up in a hotel in San Francisco”

“I know, but it’s not that.”

“What is it then, baby?”

“It’s just…Mom’s not wrong when she says I’m working all the time. I can’t remember the last time I went to the gym and we’ve been eating so much take out lately. Some of my shorts are feeling a little snug.”

He pulls back and raises his eyebrows at her. “Really? That’s what you’re worried about, that your ass will look fat? I’ll have you know I stare at that ass every day and every day it just looks better and better.”

She sighs. That’s not what she means. “You may have a slightly biased opinion.”

“So? Plus,” he pauses to drop a kiss on her shoulder. “You don’t even have to see it. I want you to watch yourself, that means face front.”

It’s not exactly about her ass, but the morning after they’d arrived she had caught him looking back and forth between it, where she stood in her panties and one of his t shirts in the bathroom brushing her teeth, and the antique standing mirror in the corner of the bedroom. It’s an ostentatious thing. Ornate and clunky with carved supports and lions’ paws for feet.

She spit and came to stand in the doorway. “What are you looking at, Jug?”

He smiled at her sleepily from the bed. “You, beautiful.”

Betty rolled her eyes and jumped on the bed so she landed beside him on her stomach. “And?”

“I was just thinking of how handy this mirror here is going to be.”

“Yeah, what for?”

He turned dark eyes on her and his voice dropped an octave. “Fucking you while you watch.”

Betty felt all the blood rush to her face. “Jughead!”

“What? Doesn’t that sound hot? I can’t think of anything better. We can put on a show for all the ghosts that must haunt this place.”

“What kind of ghosts haunt vacation cabins in the Adirondacks?”

“The kind of repressed nineteenth century ones that lived here before it was a vacation cabin.”

“So you want to spook the spooks with our crazy sex life?”

“Exactly.”

She kissed him before bouncing back out of the bed. “I’ll think about it if you get up and brush your teeth. I want to go on that hike.”

He caught her around the waist and pulled her back. “But I want to stay in bed and ravish you until it’s dark again.”

“There’s one flaw in your plan. There’s no food up here.”

While he contemplated solutions to that problem, she escaped his grasp and thundered down the stairs, mind whirring with the visual he’d planted there.

He’s still slowly spinning them to the sonata of the bullfrogs and the crickets. She knows he can tell her resolve is wavering. Because she does want to. Anything he suggests in that tone and she’s a goner, molten heat lapping at her stomach.

“Come on, Betts”

“I don’t know, Juggie”

“I’ll do five things on your list.”

“You really want it?”

And she does trust him completely, trusts him to love her and to not see the extra ten pounds where they’ve settled on her hips. It’s her own gaze she’s afraid of.

Somehow, in the course of their dancing, he’s snuck a thigh between hers and he pulls her against him in just the right way. His voice is rough, scratchy.

“Think about it, Betty. You, naked in my lap riding me. Your tits bouncing—”

“My thighs jiggling.”

He pinches her hip before continuing. “The contrast of your skin again mine. Watching yourself fall apart. I love you. You coming is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. I want you to know how glorious you are.”

With her back to the house, his eyes are lambent in the porch light. They hold the answers to all of her questions. And they hold the promise that’s sustained her since she was a teenager, frightened and angry but never again alone.

So, she nods against his neck and presses a kisses to his jawline. She feels the muscles move as he smiles and the burst of joy in her chest is like unlocking a door and stepping through to the sunlight. She breathes deeply, thankful in the knowledge that he’ll once again help her to conquer her fears.

Inside, Jughead breaks away from her to flip the record so “Born to Run” can chase them up the stairs. Betty extinguishes all the lights and they meet at the landing.

The stairs creak as they climb them, the old house protesting at the friskiness of its young, lovestruck inhabitants. Yellowed lace curtains flutter like handkerchiefs lifted in horror.

Jughead pauses to take her mouth in a kiss, his hands hurriedly unbuttoning her dress and sliding inside to brush against her breasts until her nipples pucker. Then he tugs her hand and her dress flows behind them in his haste.

The old lamps in the bedroom still have incandescent lightbulbs which—between that and the scarves arranged artfully over the top of them—will at least be more flattering than their more environmentally-friendly alternatives. Betty’s thankful for small mercies, and for the warm, yellow glow glancing off the pine walls and bathing the room in soft light and shadowed corners.

Jughead grabs the chair from its place beside the table and slides it over the uneven wooden floor boards until it’s a few feet in front of the mirror. Then he frowns at it and slides it back a little further. Betty stands in the doorway, bunching the material of her dress in her hands.

“Come here.” He pulls her to him so they’re standing in front of the chair, and hugs her back to his chest. His arms form a stripe of brown where they hug her pale stomach.

“Look at me, Betty.” Her eyes find his in the mirror. “I want you to let go and let me take care of you, okay?” She nods. “Good.” Then he slides one of her arms up so it’s behind his head and he kisses her so thoroughly the air whooshes all the way down her body and back up and she’s lightheaded.

He’s playing with her breasts, pinching and pulling and stroking, and she’s getting antsy, rubbing her ass against him. He releases her mouth with a scrape of his teeth against her bottom lip.

“Now look at yourself again. Look how pink and swollen your lips are. And look at your chest heaving and that pretty blush that spreads down. I wonder what I’d have to do to get it to reach your belly button.” He brushes her hair so it rests over her far shoulder and nips at her ear before kissing her neck. Betty has always hated her pale skin, how anyone can tell what she’s feeling by how she flushes so easily. Once, she’s pretty sure she blushed just cause someone looked at her funny. But when Jughead describes it, when she sees through his eyes, she feels beautiful.

Then his hands reach up and push her dress to the floor, his foot kicking it away so she’s standing in front of him, in front of the mirror, in only her days of the week underwear—it’s the wrong day too. She’s wearing her Thursday panties on a Sunday.

But his hand skims down the plane of her stomach and brushes against her and she loses her train of thought. He sucks a hickey onto the back of her neck as he touches her over the damp cotton.

“Are you wet for me?” He hits a spot that sends an electric current through her body and she gasps. “Yes.”

“Are you ready to take these off then?”

“Please.”

“Go on then.” And she does, bending over and then kicking them away while he slides off his own jeans and tank top. Then he pulls her back against him, all warm flesh and goosebumps. His cock nestles in the cleft of her ass and she fights the urge to roll her hips.

He uses one of his feet to slide hers farther apart, then reaches a hand back down. He dips a finger inside her then spreads the moisture around and strums her clit, before repeating the circuit.

“Do you need a warm-up?”

“N-no,” she manages to stutter out.

“Okay.” He lets go of her to sit on the chair, then pulls her back and guides her onto his lap.

“Jug?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Fuck me now.”

“You got it.” Then he spreads his knees so hers are hooked over his and she can see herself, so wet she glistens in the mirror.

“Lean up for a second.” She complies and feels him lining himself up.

When she sinks down, her eyes roll back in her head, this position stretching the muscles in a new way.

She makes a tentative circle with her hips.

“There you go, honey.” Jughead peppers kisses across her shoulder blades as she experiments with direction and pace until she finds a rhythm that hits her clit on every pass. He intertwines one hand with hers and hugs it against her, while the other continues to caress her breasts.

Her gaze flits around, from their hands to objects in the room. Whenever it lands on the mirror, he’s staring at her, his gaze focused on where their bodies join, on where he slips in and out of her. She knows it should be lewd, obscene. But god if it isn’t the hottest thing she’s ever seen.

After a few minutes of letting her be in charge, she can feel him tensing beneath her, can feel him itching to push them harder. So she leans back and lets her head fall onto his shoulder. She lets him take control of her and lets him free her from herself.

He scoots forward on the seat of the chair so he can brace his legs on the floor for better leverage. His hands move to her hips as he thrusts upward and pulls her down in time. She knows when he starts to lose control because his hips begin to stutter and he pulls back, slowing them down and wrapping one arm back around her stomach while the other moves to rub gentle circles on her clit.

She clenches her hands on the ropey muscles of his arm and squeezes her eyes shut as she feels her own orgasm rushing towards her.

“Are you close?” She nods with her head still on his shoulder. Then she feels him skim a hand up her back and cord his fingers through her hair. He tilts her head forward. “Open your eyes, Betty.” It takes a tremendous amount of effort, but she does and she meets his in the mirror. Her mouth falls open and she knows she’s panting, a high-pitched yelping noise that she can’t control.

His whisper in her ear sends shivers down her spine. “Look at yourself. This is what I see when I close my eyes at night. When I rub one out in the shower thinking of you. When I look at you, I remember this gorgeous, glazed look on your face and I know I put it there. Because you’re mine. You’re mine, Betty Cooper, forever and always.”

Then he sucks a kiss below her ear and she’s gone.

In the years they’ve been together, Jughead’s given her more orgasms than Rain Man could count. He’s given her fireworks and starbursts and glass shattering and earthquakes. Her favourite, though, is the wave the starts in the soles of her feet and rolls through her, curling everything from her toes up to hair, a slow contraction and release that leaves her breathless.

When she gets her breath back, Jughead’s forehead is pressed into her shoulder blade and she can feel his heavy breathing. She can also feel their hot come, where it’s begun to seep out and roll down her thigh.

He lifts her off and holds her steady while he stands, a move for which she feels an appreciation she can’t put into words at the moment. When she can stand on her own, she sneaks into the bathroom to pee and clean herself up.

When she comes back out, Jughead has collapsed onto the bed. She crawls toward him and snuggles up by his side. He wraps an arm around her shoulders and plays with a strand of her hair as she strokes a foot up and down his calf.

“Maybe we should look into getting a cheval mirror.”

She feels more than hears his answering chuckle as it reverberates in his chest beneath her ear.

[redgillan]

Rotten Judgement - part 4

AU!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Hercules!AU After selling your soul to save your lover’s life, you become one of the Lord of the Underworld’s slave. Bucky is obsessed with one thing: collecting hearts. But why?

Word Count:1,877

Warnings: -

A/N: I died three times while writing this. I dedicate this one to the sun, kindly f*ck off. I hope you like this one, some fun stuff coming soon :)

Rotten Judgement - Masterpage

You and Steve walked hand in hand down the street, enjoying the cool breeze. You knew you had angered Bucky, but you didn’t care. You would deal with him and his silly pride later. Right now, you wanted to enjoy your time with Steve. He was charming and, quite literally, perfect.

“I’ve got a friend who wants to meet you,” Steve said.

“You told your friends about me?” A slight blush crept up his cheeks, making you chuckle. “Relax, Cap. I’d love to meet your friends.”

He gave you the most beautiful smile you'd ever seen. It made your stomach do a pleasant flip. You felt your face heat and bashfully lowered your eyes.

It’s too cliché, you thought. Get a grip, girl!

You raised your head when you reached a restaurant. It wasn’t just any old restaurant; it was SHIELD. People queued outside for hours to get a table. You skipped the line and went straight to the bouncer. Steve held the door open and motioned you inside.

You stepped into a room so large that it didn’t seem that crowded. The restaurant had black mahogany tables and oak chairs with plush dark purple cushioned seats. The owner, a blond man in his late sixties, stood behind the bar, staring into space.

Alexander Pierce.

You recognized him easily, everybody in town had heard of him. Pierce had given up a lucrative career as a financier to open a restaurant with his associate, Nick Fury. Their restaurant became the hottest spot in town and they became even richer.

“You alright?” Steve asked him as you approached.

Pierce closed his eyes, took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Lost a friend last night,” he said, a sad smile on his lips.

Steve touched his upper arm, offering comfort. “I’m really sorry.”

“Life’s full of surprises, huh?” Pierce said before he turned his attention to you. “Steve has told us so many good things about you.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” you replied, shaking his hand. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you,” he said, smiling sweetly. “Please, make yourself at home.”

You let Steve lead the way. The thick, dark purple curtains were all that separated the VIP section from the rest of the restaurant. The room felt more intimate than the main room. In the back, there were two pool tables and a dart board. You noticed that all the darts formed a circle in the centre of the board.

A waiter brought a bottle of red wine and poured a small amount in Steve’s glass. When Steve said it was good, the waiter poured the red liquid in two glasses.

“It’s delicious,” you said, licking your upper lip.

“They have some really good wine,” Steve agreed.

You set your glass down on the table. “Pierce seems like a nice person.”

Steve sighed. “Yeah, I’m worried about him though. His associate died a few weeks ago, he had a heart attack. Nick was his best friend. It really took its toll on him.”

“Two friends in a month? He must be devastated.” Your heart ached for the man. “How did you meet him?”

Steve shifted in his seat, a half smile curling one corner of his lips. You cocked a brow at him as you took another sip of wine.

“That’s why we’re here. I have something to tell you.” He waited until you nodded before continuing. “I’m not an ordinary man.”

He raised his hand, the long claw marks left by Nat were gone. You reached out and took his hand, examining it closely.

“How-”

“Told you, I heal fast.”

“But it happened two hours ago.” You raised your gaze in challenge and looked him straight in the eye. “What are you?”

His smile faded and his face fell serious. “I’m a demigod.”

Steve released a long sigh that seemed to deflate his entire body. He wasn’t good at keeping secret and now that you knew the truth about him, he felt like he could breathe again. Your gaze softened and you squeezed his hand.

“I knew you were special.”

“Y-You’re okay with this?” He tilted his head, looking like a lost puppy.

“If that’s who you are,” you shrugged, “who am I to judge you?”

“You’re something else.”

He looked at you in awe and you couldn’t but smile. You cleared your throat. “So, how did you meet Pierce?”

“He’s my guardian angel,” Steve said, still holding your hand. “And I mean that in the most literal sense of the word. Nick was one too, but they were completely different. Pierce can be too obliging and Nick was kind of hot-tempered. They were a great team, we were lucky to have them.”

You opened your mouth to ask a question when two men entered the VIP room. Steve looked over his shoulder and smiled at his friends. You straightened up in your seat as you observed them.

The man with an uncorrected gap between his front teeth looked up at you and nodded. You remembered him, Bucky had warned you about Sam. He walked over to you and held out his hand.

“Sam Wilson, trainer of heroes,” he said before he gestured at the man with blue Mohawk, “and that’s Clint.”

Clint rolled his eyes good-naturedly as he shook your hand. You suppressed the urge to fidget under Sam’s stare. He looked at you intently, seemingly waging a silent debate with himself.

“You’re the one who kicked Rumlow in the nuts, right?” Clint smirked when you nodded. He took Steve’s chair and turned it around before he sat down. “Good job, Nutcracker.”

Sam took the seat next to him as Steve rounded the table and slid into the chair beside you. He took your hand in his under the table so that nobody could see and looked sideways at you.

“Have you ever considered becoming a hero?” Sam asked. “I could train you.”

You looked up at him, expecting him to laugh. He didn’t.

“Me? I’m no hero.”

“When I met Steve, he was as skinny as a broomstick. Look at him now.” Sam jutted his chin toward Steve who rolled his eyes. “You’re brave and bold. We could use someone like you. Our new mission requires a bit more finesse and we’re...”

“-big guys,” Clint finished.

“Wait!” you said, frowning. “If Steve’s a demigod and Pierce is a guardian angel, what are you?”

Sam and Clint exchanged an amused look before they leaned over the table toward you. Instinctively, you sank further into your seat. Steve gave your hand a reassuring squeeze.

“I’m a Phoenix,” Sam said, cracking a smile, “and believe me, it comes in handy when your job is to train amateur heroes.”

You heard Steve mumbling something under his breath. Sam gave you a wink as he sat back in his seat. You turned your head to face Clint.

“If you laugh, I’ll kill you,” he said, his eyes narrowed.

“Don’t be a baby, Clint.” Sam grinned.

You knew it was an empty threat, but you still raised your free hand like you were taking an oath. From the corner of you eye, you could see Steve covering his mouth to stifle his laughter. Clint kicked his shin under the table.

“I’m a Cupid, the Messenger of Love.”

Sam and Steve bit their lips like they were trying not to laugh before they burst out laughing. Hysterical laughter filled the room and you chuckled quietly. It felt good to laugh again.

“And no I’m not one of those chubby, naked babies. But I do have arrows and they’re very sharp,” he warned, glaring at his friends.

“Okay, baby,” Sam chuckled before his face turned serious again. “Now, like I said, we need a new member. Our enemy is a very powerful man.”

“He’s a God,” Steve chimed in, “and he’s as clever as he’s dangerous.”

You were sure Bucky would love the way they described him. The man had an ego the size of his kingdom. You listened carefully to Sam’s story.

During the battle for Olympus, Sam worked closely with the Gods. Their most ferocious enemy was the Lernaean Hydra; for every head chopped off, two more grew in its place. Unfortunately, the Hydra captured Bucky and turned him into a weapon to kill the Gods.

When Sam found him, it was too late. The other Gods said that for their own security they were obliged to lock him up. After the war, they freed his mind and gave him the Underworld –mostly because no one wanted to be locked in a cave for all eternity. They argued that he would never be the same again.

The Hydra tortured his body and his soul. He was a victim, but it didn’t change the fact that he made you do unspeakable things. Your heart constricted painfully, you couldn’t help but feel sorry for him.

“He has a group of demons stealing hearts for him,” Sam concluded, unaware that you were one of Bucky’s minions. “We have to free them, but we can’t do anything until we find the Underworld. Are you with us?”

This was your chance to make things right, to speak up and betray the man you sold your life to. You swallowed hard, your stomach churned, as you silently made your choice.

 “I will kill him,” Bucky shouted at the empty courtroom as he walked over to his throne. “No, better yet, I’ll make her rip his heart out of his chest and crush it.”

“Yikes,” Nat muttered.

She trailed after him, her face twisted in a grimace of disgust. Bucky sat on his throne, his foot tapping an impatient rhythm on the ground.

“You’ve acted like a jerk and you’re still acting like a jerk.”

“Watch your tongue,” Bucky hissed through gritted teeth.

“I’m sorry, but it’s true. If you could just talk to her-”Nat stopped talking as the ground trembled under her feet. “Never mind, I forgot you had a cold cold heart.”

She pretended to zip her mouth shut when he gave her another dirty look. After a short moment of silence, Natasha started humming the tune to Tony Bennett’s Cold Cold Heart. Bucky was about to lose his temper again, when he heard Wanda’s frantic footsteps.

“So?” he asked, unable to contain himself any longer. “Did you see them?”

Wanda came to a halt next to Nat. She bent at the waist and rested her hands on her knees as she worked to catch her breath. Bucky took a deep breath, trying not to show his impatience.

“I saw her and Captain America. He took her to SHIELD,” Wanda said, her brows furrowed in worry. “She met Pierce.”

Bucky stared at his metal hand, hiding his emotions from his servants. Anger coursed through him like poison, quickly followed by fear. Nat and Wanda observed him, their hearts pounding.

“What are you going to do?”

“That will be all,” he sighed, dismissing the Furies with a wave of his hand.

The Furies exchanged panicked glances, they knew exactly what he had in mind.

“No, please, my Lord,” Nat begged. “Don’t do it, I like her.”

“My decision is final,” he replied, avoiding their pleading eyes. “Now leave.”

Part 5