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beefromanoff · 8 months ago

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Project Mockingbird Ch. 15

summary: the tension...is palpable. but maybe a breakthrough?

pairing: Bucky Barnes x OC

author's note: TWO IN ONE WEEK! I love seeing everyone's responses to this story! it's so fun to write, and it's definitely heating up. let me know what you think!

tag list: @bangtanxberm @scott-loki-barnes @kayhi808 @charmedbysarge

(let me know if you want to be added <3)

chapter list

_______________________________________

The sterile air of the training room hummed with a tension that felt almost palpable. Bucky stood, arms crossed, in front of a giant digital screen displaying a complex urban environment. Charlotte, her focus intense, studied the map that sprawled before her. It had only been two days since the attack on the compound, and though she’d been released to sleep in her own bed the first night, she wasn’t cleared for combat training until her broken ribs had healed and the stitches had been removed from her leg. She’d opted to return to lessons with Bucky almost immediately, despite their spat in the medical wing. Her desire to avoid being alone with her thoughts was stronger than her desire to avoid him.

He wore his normal daily attire: tactical pants and combat boots, a snug black shirt hugging his chest. Charlotte wore almost identical garb, with loose cargo pants the most comfortable to wear over the bandaging on her leg.

"Okay," Bucky began, his voice steady, "you have your objective. Hostage situation, downtown area, high civilian presence. Minimal casualties, maximum stealth. Your move."

Charlotte paused for a moment before pointing to a section of the map, tracing a potential entry route. "Rooftop entry here. We can use the neighboring building as a vantage point."

Bucky shook his head. "Too exposed. Snipers could easily pin you down. Next."

She bit her lip, her frustration growing, then suggested, "What about a distraction? Create a diversion on the opposite block to draw them out."

"And risk civilian casualties? Not an option. Think, Charlotte."

She took a deep breath, regrouping, before offering another handful of potential ways to diffuse the situation. With each suggestion shot down, Charlotte's strategies grew more audacious, her patience thinning. As her ideas got sloppier, Bucky’s feedback got more critical.

“You do that and you might as well just surrender now. They’d see you coming a mile away and have all their forces ready to ambush you. Are you prepared to send your whole team into a blatant trap? You’re not even thinking this through.” He shook his head, running a hand through his hair.

Finally, she snapped. "What do you want from me, Bucky? To pull some genius plan out of thin air? You're not giving me anything to work with!"

Bucky, unyielding, leaned forward until his face was inches from hers. "I want you to think. Real situations won't give you 'anything to work with' either. You need to adapt, improvise, and most importantly, keep those hostages and your team safe."

Charlotte's eyes blazed. "You think I don't know that? You're acting like I'm some rookie who's never faced a real threat!"

“Last time I checked, you are a rookie. When was the last mission you came on?” Bucky's tone hardened. "I'm trying to prepare you for situations where there might not be a clear right answer. You think I don't see your potential? I do. But potential's not enough when the lives of people you care about are on the line. You need to be strategic, not just brave. If you run into an escalated situation with nothing but ‘kick ass’ in your arsenal, you’re going to get yourself killed."

The air between them crackled with tension as Charlotte threw her hands in the air. "Oh, so now you're the world’s leading expert on nonviolent negotiations? Last time I checked, only one of us has ‘World’s Deadliest’ on our resume and it isn’t me.” She didn’t shy away, getting even closer to his face. “Tell me how much strategy came into play then, Soldat."

The words hung heavy, a low blow that cut incredibly deep. Bucky's face tightened, a flicker of old pain in his eyes as he set his jaw. If looks could kill, she had a feeling she’d have already taken her last breath. Instead of the verbal lashing she expected, he took a slow breath before stepping back.

"That's not fair, Charlotte, and you know it," he replied, his voice low but sharp enough to slice through the tension.

Charlotte, her chest heaving with a mix of anger and regret, met his gaze. The room felt smaller, the air thicker.

"I—" She began, then stopped. What was she doing? This was Bucky, who'd risked everything, who'd been through hell and back. And here she was, using his past against him. "I'm sorry," she said, the words feeling inadequate. "That was out of line."

But Bucky's demeanor had already shifted. He looked at her, his gaze piercing, and for a moment, Charlotte thought she saw a flicker of something more—anger, betrayal, perhaps even hurt. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared, shuttered behind the steel walls he was so adept at erecting.

"Yeah," Bucky finally said, his voice cold and distant. "It was."

Without another word, he turned on his heel and walked briskly away. The sound of his boots against the floor echoed in the large room, each step thundering through her. Charlotte watched him go, her heart sinking. She wanted to call out, to apologize again, to explain that her words had come from a place of frustration and fear, not malice. But the words stuck in her throat, tangled up with her pride and the lingering sting of their argument.

As the door slid shut behind him, leaving her alone in the silence of the training room, a mix of emotions roiled within her. Guilt for having crossed a line, anger at Bucky for being so impossibly difficult to work with, and beneath it all, a gnawing fear that she had just irreparably damaged whatever fragile connection they had been building.

She sank down onto a nearby bench, her injured leg protesting the sudden movement. The physical pain was nothing compared to the turmoil swirling inside her. She had wanted to prove herself, to show Bucky—and maybe, more importantly, herself—that she was capable, that she wasn't the weak link. Instead, she had let her temper get the best of her, lashing out in the worst possible way. The worst part? She really was trying. All of her suggestions, at least the early ones, were instinctive. Had she been in the heat of a mission, thinking on the spot, she would have acted on them. Acted on them and gotten people killed, as Bucky was so keen on reminding her. Goddamn him, this was difficult for her. She didn’t come from a military background before her capture by HYDRA, and she didn’t have years with Earth’s Mightiest Heroes honing her skills. She knew how to fight, how to survive, as she’d proven time and time again. Yet, all he seemed to be able to see was where she fell short. Brute strength and violence had gotten him through some of the worst horrors known to man, and here he was, telling her that wouldn’t be enough. Well, it would have to be. That was all she had.

The room felt oppressively large now, the echoes of their argument bouncing off the walls, a reminder of how quickly things had spiraled out of control, as they always seemed to do. Charlotte wrapped her arms around herself, a futile attempt to ward off the chill that had nothing to do with the temperature of the room.

______

The night air was crisp, and the lake below was a reflection of the starlit sky as Charlotte stood alone on the balcony, wrapped in her thoughts and an oversized sweatshirt. The events of the day had left her raw, her emotions a tangle of frustration, guilt, and an indefinable ache that seemed to pulse with the night. She’d avoided the common room until she knew Bucky would be in training with the SHIELD agents, then shut herself in her room until after dinner, leaving only to get herself the plate of food she knew Natasha had left in the fridge for her. After another failed attempt to sleep, she’d awoken in a cold sweat and found her way out to the balcony.

Behind her, the sliding door whispered open, and she stiffened, half-expecting another attack. But when she whirled around, already setting her feet in a defensive posture, it was to find Bucky standing there with two steaming cups of coffee in his hands. The panic must have shown on her face because he raised the mugs candidly, showing the peace offering.

"Vanilla, extra cream," he said, extending one of the cups towards her. The gesture was so unexpected, so gentle after their harsh words earlier, that Charlotte found herself momentarily lost for words. She couldn’t remember ever telling him how she took her coffee, and yet here it was, smelling perfectly sweet and familiar.

She took the cup, feeling the warmth seep into her fingers. "Bucky, I—I need to apologize. For earlier. I was so out of line," she started, but Bucky shook his head, cutting her off.

"No," he said firmly, "I pushed you too hard. I haven't been fair to you, haven't given you the credit you deserve." He leaned on the balcony railing, his gaze distant, reflective. "You saved the compound, Charlotte. While we were off chasing ghosts, you...you showed you have what it takes. In the heat of the moment, you did what you had to, and you saved lives." He tilted his head to meet her eyes. “You risked your own. I just…don’t want you to have to do that again.”

Charlotte's facade crumbled, her carefully constructed walls falling away as tears welled in her eyes. "What's wrong?" Bucky asked, brows furrowing in concern.

"I just... I didn't feel prepared," she admitted, her voice trembling with emotion. "I was terrified the whole time, and I had no idea what I was doing. Everyone keeps calling me a hero, and I don’t…I’m not one.”

Bucky's head tilted as he took a step closer, his gaze searching hers. "You did great out there, Charlotte. You saved this whole place, and the lives of everyone in it."

Charlotte shook her head, a bitter laugh escaping her lips as the tears spilled over. "Did I? Or was it just dumb luck?"

Bucky reached out, gently cupping her cheek and wiping away her tears with his thumb. "Hey, don't say that. You were incredible. You held your own against HYDRA."

“I was scared shitless. I kept thinking how it was my fault. My fault they came here in the first place, and it would be my fault that the compound fell while you were gone. The whole time, I was just…making it up as I went.” She laughed coldly again, looking up to blink back tears. “Everyone keeps acting like I did something amazing, when we both know I only survived because of you. You’re the only one who sees through me, sees that I don’t have a fucking clue what I’m doing and I hate it. I wish you weren’t right, but you have been. Every single goddamn time.” She angrily wiped her tears with the sleeve of her sweatshirt.

Watching her, sensing she wasn’t done, Bucky’s hand rested reassuringly on her shoulder.

Charlotte looked down into her mug, seeing her reflection warped on the surface of the liquid. "I felt terrified," she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. "Confused, lost. It all felt so... unnatural. I was second-guessing every decision, worried I was making the wrong move." She stared blankly ahead, eyes unseeing as her gaze looked somewhere past the lake. "I took it as a sign that I'd never make a good Avenger."

Bucky leaned back down over the railing, frowning at her. "Do you think you're the only one who feels that way? Even after hundreds of missions, there are times I'm still scared, still doubting." He paused, searching her face. "That fear, that uncertainty, it doesn't make you weak. It makes you human. And it's what makes you think, makes you evaluate and choose the best path forward, even when it's hard. It doesn’t mean you’re not cut out for this…it just means you actually give a shit about what you’re doing."

Charlotte met his gaze, and in that moment, a connection forged in the heat of conflict and cooled in the calm of understanding passed between them. The swift forgiveness of her incredibly cruel words. The raw, brutal honesty. The peace offering. The lack of judgment as she broke down in front of him. "I guess we're just trying to do our best, huh?" she said, a tentative, watery smile touching her lips.

"Yeah," Bucky agreed, his voice soft but steady. "We're all just trying to do our best.”

Charlotte stared ahead, taking a slow sip of her coffee. Bucky studied her for a moment, his gaze searching. "Why are you up so late, Char?" he asked quietly.

She hesitated, the words catching in her throat for a moment before she spoke. "Nightmares," she admitted quietly. "I’ve always had them, but they've been worse since... since the attack. I see all the other outcomes, if I’d failed. Tonight I dreamt that they got me, took me back there. That’s the worst one. Sometimes I have to get outside, under the stars and fresh air, just to remind myself that I'm free."

Bucky's expression softened, a flicker of understanding passing through his eyes. "I know what you mean," he said, his voice low. "I still get them too. I imagine that I wake up from cryo, and this was all a dream, that I was never free. That’s my worst one.”

Their eyes met, a rare moment when both of their walls had come down. Their looks mirrored each other, vulnerable and bare, waiting for the other to make one wrong move and get shut back out. Neither of them spoke. Even speaking the contents of her nightmares aloud had made Charlotte’s hands tremble, and she took a deep breath, her fingers tightening around the warm ceramic of her coffee cup. Breaking their gaze, she looked back out into the expansive night sky.

"Are you...scared? Now that they’re back?" she asked hesitantly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Bucky didn't hesitate. "Shitless.”

Charlotte reached out, her hand finding his on the railing. She expected him to pull away, to retreat into himself as he so often did. But to her surprise, he didn't. Instead, he tightened his grip, his thumb tracing small circles on the back of her hand.

They sat in silence as the night stretched on around them, finding solace in each other's presence. They had no answers, no reprieve in sleep, not even peace in their home, but they had a hand to hold onto, anchoring them in their fear. And with it, they found a flicker of hope, a glimmer of light in the darkness that threatened to consume them both.

________

The Avengers' kitchen was a hive of activity, with pots clanging, eggs frying, and the aroma of breakfast filling the air. The team members moved about with practiced ease, each contributing to the morning chaos in their own way.

Sam, wielding a spatula like a pro, called out to Natasha, who was expertly flipping pancakes on the griddle. "Hey, Nat, you sure you didn't miss your calling as a short-order cook?" he teased, earning a laugh from the others.

“Maybe in the next life,” She winked, flipping another perfect pancake.

Steve couldn't resist chiming in from his post by the toaster. "I don't know, Sam. I think I’ve got her beat," he quipped, waving his burnt toast in the air. Charlotte wrinkled her nose as she walked past it, the bitter smell assaulting her.

“Good morning sunshine,” Sam called before resuming his whistling, clearly in a great mood. Charlotte wondered if he’d just gotten back from Calla’s apartment, and when they’d stop splitting their time now that the secret of their relationship was out. She made a note to ask her friend later.

Bucky, already stationed by the coffee pot, flashed a grin as Charlotte waltzed up. "Coffee?" he offered, holding out a mug with a knowing look.

Charlotte raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Second coffee in less than twelve hours?”

Bucky shrugged nonchalantly. "Don’t get used to it," he deadpanned.

“Don’t be such a good barista.” She teased, sipping from her mug before hopping onto the counter beside him.

Their exchange didn't go unnoticed by the rest of the team, who exchanged knowing glances and playful nudges as they observed the interaction.

Sam couldn't resist a quip. "Well, would you look at that? Bucky's finally learned how to share," he teased.

Natasha smirked, shooting Bucky a pointed look. "I guess miracles really do happen.”

Always ready to diffuse a situation, Steve called. "Hey, Charlotte, I meant to tell you," he began, catching her eye. "Tony and Pepper are coming back to the compound later this afternoon. Pepper wants to meet with you.”

Charlotte's eyes widened in surprise. "Really? Why?" she asked.

Steve nodded, his expression reassuring. "Yep. She wants to talk about hosting a press conference. They think it's time to let the world know who you are.” He gave a reassuring smile. “Don’t be nervous, you’ll do great. We’ve all done them. Even Bucky.” He elbowed his friend as he sidled past, plopping down at the head of the table.

Charlotte raised her eyebrows, still looking hesitant. “If you say so.”

“At least you'll look better on TV than Sam," Bucky said dryly, giving her a sidelong look.

Sam bristled at the jab, shooting Bucky a mock glare. "Hey, watch it, Barnes. I'll have you know I've got a face for the big screen," he retorted.

“Is that what they’ve been telling you?” He raised an eyebrow, dodging a swat from Sam’s spatula. Giggling, Charlotte felt slightly more at ease as her friends fell into chaos around her.

_________

Smoothing her shirt, Charlotte approached the sleek conference room with a mixture of anticipation and nervousness. She wasn't sure what to expect from this meeting with Pepper Potts, Tony Stark's famed and formidable right-hand woman. Did she do something wrong? Was she in trouble? The thoughts raced through her mind as she pushed open the door and stepped inside.

"Ms. Rossi, thank you for coming. Please, have a seat," Pepper greeted warmly, gesturing to a chair across from her. She was beautiful, looking equal parts polished and genuine.

Charlotte forced a smile and took a seat, trying to hide her unease. "My friends call me Charlotte, or at least, everyone here does.”

Pepper chuckled. "Alright, Charlotte. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you."

“Likewise.” She raised an eyebrow. “Although I’ll warn you, I’m not overly keen on the idea of a press conference…if that’s what this is about.”

Pepper chuckled again. "It is, but just know there’s no pressure. This is my professional recommendation, if you desire to be a more public part of the team. We’ve had quite a few incidents of public scrutiny over the past several years, and we’ve found that it makes everyone’s lives much easier if we stay ahead of it. And since you’re new here…"

Charlotte leaned back in her chair, adopting a more casual posture. "Then we should get ahead of it before the public can find something to scrutinize."

Pepper smiled. "Exactly."

“Well, let’s hear the game plan, then. You’re the expert.”

Pepper clasped her hands together on the table atop a stack of notes. "Well, with everything that's been happening lately, there's been quite a bit of interest in you."

Charlotte raised an eyebrow. "Me? What’s been happening lately?”

Pepper laughed softly. "Modesty, I see. But yes, your journey has captivated a lot of attention. You were all over the news with your stint in gymnastics, and then you even made a splash as a big fish in Las Vegas, all before disappearing. The internet is very difficult to slip anything past, and it didn’t take long for them to put things together. People love a mystery."

Charlotte tilted her head warily. "That’s one thing to call me."

Pepper smiled. "Indeed. But, we have an opportunity to share your story with the world. On your terms, the way you want it to be told. As much or as little as you’d like to give, anything would help prevent people from writing the narrative for you. Show them who you are before they can tell you."

Charlotte's skepticism showed on her face. "Ah, the old charm offensive, huh?"

Pepper nodded. "Something like that. It's a chance for people to get to know the real Charlotte, not just the headlines they’ll inevitably see if you join the Avengers Initiative."

“Who says I’m joining the Avengers?” She raised an eyebrow.

“I’m very good at my job.” Pepper winked. “And don't worry, you won't be alone. The team and I will be there to support you every step of the way. We’ll prepare you beforehand, be right there to step in if you get uncomfortable or don’t know how to answer something. You have my word.”

Charlotte gave a half smile. "Alright, I'll do it. But if I say something wildly inappropriate or incriminating, I can’t be held responsible.”

Pepper laughed. "Have you met Tony? I don’t think we’ve ever had a press conference without something wildly inappropriate or incriminating. You’ll do just fine.”

#james bucky barnes #avengers #bucky barnes x oc #bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #winter soldier #bucky fluff #sebastian stan #winter soldier fluff

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delladilly · 2 months ago

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Conclusion

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#streetwear outfits for men

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buckybarnestales · 3 months ago

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Anchors in the Fathoms

Bucky could have never fathomed that what should have been a dull and ordinary day turning into a dangerous if not pleasant surprise. After a long and tiring afternoon of searching for a part-time job in the city, one that wouldn’t put him at risk of surveillance, he had been returning back to his cheap one bedroom apartment in the lower-east end when he’d been floored by reality of someone following him on a flashy motorcycle. After a short chase back to his hide-out, he was met by an even greater bewilderment when his pursuer turned out to be a very attractive young woman, late 20s, and the most dazzling brown eyes he’d ever seen.

Said a dazzling woman was now inside of the squalor he called home, walking around his living room and taking in the few decorations he’d adorned along the walls while he watched her from his seated position on the mattress of his bed. He felt incredibly small and self-conscious of himself and his state of living. The beautiful and mysterious woman, stood across the room, dressed in form-fitting leather black pants and a purple-trimmed leather jacket. High-heeled biker boots clicked with loud thumps across his floor, and a rich silky mane of mahogany flowed down her hair. The intoxicating scent of lavender wafted across the room, he could almost taste it.

He knew he should be wary of this woman who followed him home and who he briefly fought to an impasse. She could be a Hydra sleeper embedded in Romania who had been lucky to spot him, or she could work for SHIELD and was buying time for the cavalry to get here and lock him up. Despite the numerous dangers that could come from her presence, there was something that told him she was familiar and trustworthy. Funny, he never even got her name.

“So, uh…Miss?” He began, unsure of himself as he continued to watch her, her attention now locked on a notebook he had left on the counter with scribbed notes. He forgot to hide that.

Being within his virile-menacing proximity altered every instinct of resistance she harbored; remaining impassive in her vigilance, Selina knew the faltering ground between her and Bucky Barnes was dangerous for her to brazenly tread, it was a damn risk worth taking.

Ignoring the stink of urban decay that maddeningly wavered through his derelict apartment- a high-point for effective isolation; she glimpsed fleetingly at the scribble handwritten in Russian, her jeweled coffee fixed all intensity of her depths at the list of names and scraps of paper clippings he taped on the marked pages. It was a manifest infused with guilt-ridden, reinspected memories that ensued demons-apparitions of his torturous past to bleed into the ink. A wasteland of abstract misery that he discarded on the pages.

Her latest infiltration stint in East-Germany only gave her a location where HYDRA rogue operative was stationed on deceptive grounds, all she obtained against the diffusion of false hope after slashing a knife through a mattress, was a tattered pocketbook with a name scribbled on the cover: Zemo.

With the veriest fraction of her lithe fingers, Selina caressed the paragraphs, trying to weave together his enigma threads and find a more vivid understanding of what unspeakable measures of horrific pain those ruthless HYDRA vipers did to her Winter Soldier. She felt the glacial heat of his steel-aquamarine eyes penetrating through her, searing into her bones with laser intensity, evoking ardent desires to seize his full-bow shapely lips, to steal his deadened pulse and make him come alive against her wake of passion.

The grounds tension was equally unwavering between them. Raw ache echoed in shadow, as contrasts of streetlight piercing from newspaper coated windows gleamed over her alabaster skin. She needed to anchor him back with delicate tactics of coaxing, first was reigniting his memory of her, and rein up his unhinged-explosive aggression that was triggered akin to a powder-keg.

Closing the notebook in haphazard motion, she pivoted fluidly on her spiked heels with a sway of feline grace, mirroring his guarded stare, the extension of trust needed more distance. It was too damn obvious, Bucky was readjusting into a human element, trying to find some tenacity that didn’t involve slashing a blade or executing kill shots. This low-cut apartment was his asylum in solace-he was a stray dog. “Look, I know you’re having trouble with the whole memory game,” she whispered with smokiness edged in her rueful tone.“My aims of being here aren’t to gun you down, handsome…”

With a swift clutch of lethal precision, she quickly removed a 9mm Glock from her belt hostler and placed it visibly on the kitchen counter and stacked plates, fully disarming herself, as she watched his brows furrowing into a notch, coveying his distrust. “This isn’t a Romanian charity call, I’m here because some cruel bastard took someone very precious from me, and I won’t stop until he comes out of the shadows again.”

For a moment Bucky felt grateful at the distraction her words brought, but it was dashed immediately as his confusion resurfaced. After the incident in Washington almost a year ago, he’d been filled with nothing but questions. Few of them were answered when he visited that Smithsonian Captain America exhibit before leaving America on a cargo ship to Amsterdam. He knew he had a name and a past, James Buchanan Barnes, born in 1919 in Brooklyn, New York. It was a dot on a blank parchment that made up his mind. He could find no other dots connect to other than the one named Steve, but it was too dangerous to seek him out. Now this woman showed up, tracked him down with a curious purpose he couldn’t fathom. Not for the first time, he felt an inkling of stress at the not being able to remember.

“And you think I can help you find this person?” He asked, feeling a surprising pit of disappointment at the thought she had a significant other out there. It shouldn’t have felt strange but it did. Until months ago, he neither felt curiosity towards the attractive women, nor had he craved their company. Hydra had done more than suppress his memories, but also all impulses and drives connected to them such as love and lust. Until now, there wasn’t a single woman to catch his eye; that this one had told him that there had to be a reason. She seemed too familiar. “I haven’t even caught your name?”

The resonance of his graveled, husky undertone held stinging betrayal against his own heart, Selina feigned at the mild pang that imploded emptiness in her taut veins, the man-beast machine she loved was just a damned ghost in distorted reflection. His roguish and boyishly chiseled visage had devolved into a pudgy, disheveled vagrant; he no longer channeled the bestial vigor of an untamed wolf. He reeked of the slew of abated despondence and soul-encompassing regret, from her eye-level she alarmingly noticed a growth of flab under his stubbled, cleft chin, sagging over his Adam’s Apple. It was his strikingly glacial blue irises that were tellingly devoid of recognition.

Stowing back bone-deep calamity against HYDRA that steeped into a vise, despite she craved for the sweetness of vengeance, Selina wrinkled her nose in utter disgust, trying to figure out the reason why Siberia’s elite assassin had allowed that deformity against his stunningly masculine beauty possess his battle- conditioned body. Disturbed by the underlying changes, her coffee irises flared with a dangerous glint, alighting her hardcore spirit.“Sorry handsome,” she paused in a terse breath, suppressing a relenting stab of masked anguish. “…but I don’t give away my pretty name to a stranger…” she played out, sleekly, challenging his controlled measure of reserve.“The man I’m looking clearly doesn’t exist in here…”

A shrug came off of Bucky’s shoulders, both frustration and uncertainty pouring out of him in a constant flow that hinged on his patience. “Sorry to disappoint you, miss. Maybe he checked out before I moved in, or maybe he was never really here to begin with,” he said with a creeping hostility in his words. He knew he shouldn’t allow his emotions to get the better of him, but there was an underlying aggression in his body that ached to be let loose after months of inner-turmoil as he waged a constant war within himself. The things Hydra did to him might’ve been considered brain-washing, but the imbalances they triggered were already there after years of war. He wanted to let his anger out, but he feared the devastation it might cause.

It wasn’t until the cybernetic gears to his prosthetic arm began to audibly whirl that he realized he’d unconsciously balled his hand into a fist. Alarm setting in, Bucky discreetly shifted his gaze from the woman in the room, whose brown embers burned like hot-coals in his direction. She’d heard.

“You don’t have to hide that from me, handsome” Selina gritted, the iciness in her undertone surprisingly felt like cutting like razor’s edge. Molten steel fringed on her tongue as she leveled her dark eyes at the faded cranberry wall, measuringly. A pasty smear of dried plaster concealed holes that were caused by hammering force of his metallic knuckles, tortuously evident to his depth of threadbare restraint, to subdue the vicious impulses of the Winter Soldier.

A darkened scowl traced over his shapely-wide lips, as the sharp, broad planes of his rugged features set into a graven clench. She was aware of his bestial strength, the fuel that pumped in his veins and hard swells of rigid muscles as she keenly registered the voltaic shift of his chrome-alloy plates, responding intrusive tension, evoking murderous intent to possess his conscious-grappling back into an impassive stupor. The glacial heat in his steel-blue irises receded under the malignant shadow; he on the explosive verge of morphing back into the beast machine again, and she needed to tug at his reins. She wouldn’t surrender like a kitten pinned under a wolf’s paw.

A subtle verve of masculine ferocity impended when she caught the slightest heady whiff of sandalwood and frosted mint, the scent that arrested her pulse when she remembered clutching the material of his Kevlar tactical jacket, breathing in frigid air as she would splay her palm over hard paved muscle while his knuckles traced the supple nakedness of her skin. They were unstoppable to the equal caliber of high-octane steeped passion, dueling arsenal that welded hot rods of ecstasy in their veins. A feverish urgency pulsed through her as definite friction intensified to combust, drawing a wake of traitorous fire beneath her skin.“If you want to dance right there, that’s fine with me…” she imploringly challenged, with a deviant glint in her eyes. “I’ll even let you take the lead…”

And just like that, Bucky felt the last shred of patience inside of him snap in two, and before he could stop himself, he bolted across the room, in the woman’s direction, as if he were a force of nature. A hiss followed in his wake accompanied by the overturning of several pieces of furniture. The noisy ruckus was deafened by the whirring of his cybernetic limb springing into action as if it were a waking beast. His fist flew towards her direction, only to collide with the wall of his living room/bedroom. His fist went through it like a knife through butter, leaving nothing but a gaping black whole. Not missing a beat, he pulled out his arm and lunged for her again with a right-hook, only to feel her dodge his attack again, this time with a balletic grace as she backflipped steps away from him.

“I’ve had enough of your games, lady. They sent you after to me, didn’t they? You can tell them I’m not going back!” Bucky grunted as he quickly blocked a staggering judo kick to his right shoulder, and another meant for his pelvis.

Against the cacophony of metallic-alloy plates synched into a voltaic pulse from his surgically-cybertronic enhanced arm, arresting her heartbeat as the erratic resonance of dread amplified throughout the nondescript apartment in tumultuous force; Selina remained poise into a challenging stance, her alabaster features betrayed no cast of hesitance as she adapted to the vaporous reality besieging her.

Coldness penetrated her veins, the infestation of parasitic HYDRA was still possessing him as he enforced intimation with mechanical paces-nothing reserved. Moments between them were accelerating.All instincts stoked up, urging her to make the flight before his ruthless, unslackened grip viciously seized her throat-her dance partner wasn’t Bucky Barnes, he was pushed aside by Siberia’s beast machine-the Winter Soldier. She needed to destabilize him before a drop of blood hit the floor.

The rawness of his unhinged lethal aggression was electrifyingly unstoppable like a wake of a second-blinding thunderbolt clashing against her, as Selina reeled back to opposite position under his massive-intimating shadow. Bucky tensed with predatory readiness, his metallic hand brandished into a fist, capturing her reflection in glints of chrome. In a fluid motion, she braced herself defensively with effective feline poise, unshakeable like a drawn blade as she grounded with rigid footing. Her serrated chrome heels dug into the floorboards. Adrenaline surged through her veins, generating a feverish rush as she prepared to counterattack.

Composing a smooth breath, her dark coffee irises gazed at his unkempt wolfish mane flitted over his tensing shoulders, as Bucky gnashed his teeth, pulling the bow-shape of his lips into manically an animalistic sneer, morphing him into a rabid wolf. Selina recognized the inevitable, untampered visage of his feral power, the blinding ferocity that dangerously infused him with explosive-bestial momentum, drawing out a guttural roar, he stomped menacingly closer to the wall; the Winter Soldier was conditioned to rend and destroy without a vital pulse of tolerance-humanity to deter him.

“Listen to me, I’m not leashed up to those HYDRA bastards, handsome,” Selina gritted breathlessly in vehement interjection, swaying her head against the wall, as disheveled mahogany whorls slashed over the delicate curve of her clenching jaw, at the fraction of the second she evaded instinctively under his robotic arm that delivered a haymaker sweep with fluid -elegant reaction, as white fragments of plaster dusted her tangled strands.“No one owns me…”

She reared her head up, unmistakably catching a flash of heated scarlet within his slitten pupils as his steel-blues depths shockingly liquified into lucid ice against a ghostly cast of murderous intent. Seething in Russian, Bucky parted his lips, as loose brunette tresses hung over the chubbiness of his bewhiskered jaw, there was a subtle intrusion of fringed resistance as he lurched back, gazing at her with a jolt of perplexity grappling over him.

“Then how the hell do you know me, lady?!” Bucky grunted still fueled with aggression and hostility that kept him remained locked in a fighting stance. He didn’t like how much this woman seemed to know about him, especially given the fact he knew nothing about her. Trust might’ve been a privilege he was willing to grant in his older life when he was innocent and unbroken. Times had changed. Trust would now get him killed, locked up or worse; unmade all over again. He had lived a quiet and isolated life for the past few months in this crummy apartment. It wasn’t ideal nor lavish, but it gave him what he needed and that was safety and anonymity. He wasn’t about to let that be threatened.

“You show up out of the blue, knowing too much more than you should. Even if you’re not with em’,” he conceded with a vexed shrug watching her carefully as she remained locked in her own stance yet appeared more casual about it than he did. “You should know its not safe to be around me.” There was a double-edged meaning to those words he didn’t care to divulge, but the truth of the matter remained, anyone that got close to him was sure to receive a target on their backs, not just from his enemies but potentially himself as well. He was dangerous and unstable at his worse of times, and just plain unsociable at his best. Being cut-off from the world for the past number of decades tended to leave that effect.

Knowingly smirking with a kittenish glint while he furrowed his brows incredulously as his ultramarine blue eyes stared monotonously dumbfounded at her voluminous crimson lips deviously curving to match the piratic darkness of her coffee irises; Selina detected that her invasive allure distrubed him, deceptively with fluid balance, as she effortlessly crossed her stiletto heels at her ankles -the dangerous crux of element heat was growing increasingly feverish, as the sheer dynamic need to feel the cushioned softness of his full lips graze her lithe, pale throat was exhilarating to discard while she defied the modicum of his restraint.

Within the ambiance of obscurity, Selina was cunningly instrumental with caution at every deviation, only unmasking that she wanted him to see.“Funny I was just going to say the same thing about me, handsome…” she purred daringly with a trace of sultry enticement while attempting for dominance over him. “…and I never play nice.”

He felt an inexplicable urge to smirk at her coy response. Despite the aggression and hostility of the situation, Bucky couldn’t help but find the mystery woman to be witty and exhilarating. She was like an elusive cat that was daring him to give chase and for some reason he felt his anticipation soar at the thought. His caution, however, remained at the forefront of his thoughts and with it came a prickling of vexation that she appeared to be stubborn against his warnings and unwilling to divulge any information about herself. He knew she was trained, that much was clear, but she also appeared to be too much of a thrill-seeker that she continued to play this game with him. He needed to get her to leave, for both their sakes, and needed to disappear again.

“This isn’t a game, darlin’,” he felt a smidgen of satisfaction as he watched her eyebrows rise at his endearing term. Somehow it felt natural and like something the old Bucky would say to disarm a pretty girl. His stance grounded he tries circling her to get to match his movements, putting her with her back towards the living room. “Leave now while you can…”

“Why, don’t tell me you’re not in the mood to dance, soldier boy,” Selina nonchalantly snarked back with a devious pout, her velveted purr ghosted with a flavored smokiness of a decadent whiskey that seemed to seep into his veins in the barest instant of subtle recognition, giving him what had been an underlying of the versatile fierceness of her feline caliber. Her dark coffee irises tellingly flashed with a lethal contrast of beckon, in the intensifying moment she heard the metallic plates of his cybertronic arm rotate in unison under his red sleeve, she was blindingly quick in a balletic swift of reversed motion on her spiked heels, giving him a deft semblance of her flawless precision of elegance as they became mirrored on equal ground, daring their warring souls to retake a seize of volcanic dominance.

As she intently expected, Bucky drew in a breadth closer threateningly to the low-flat mattress, his predatory stance fearsomely shadowed over her lithesome form while he kept a fraction of distance for good measure.The heady masculine of sandalwood, vanilla, and frosted mint ghosted over her smirking lips, colliding with her wantoned senses as she met the iced blue embers of ultramarine, darkly radiating molten steel underneath tousled dark tresses.

The pulsing frisson in their aching veins was revamping feverishly; soon they would clash like explosive forces of carnal nature, him, powerful as thunder and her electrifying as lightning. It was a dueling crescendo she craved to embrace with him again. She needed one more brazen play of words to ignite the stoking fire within his deadened gaze. “Boy you sure know how to treat a girl, usually men don’t blow a chance with me, and I’m not ready to call it night yet, so do yourself a favor…” She viciously delivered a sucker punch into taut ridges of his thickly defined abdomen, stealing his raspy breath as her dainty hand fleetingly recoiled back before his metallic digits seized her wrist.“… and dance with me, красивый (handsome).”

His sharpened senses remained on alert as he watched her unravel in front of him from a coy and reserved kitten to a feisty and aggressive panther. What came next was a flurry of twirling kicks and jabs that astonished him at first before he regained control of his focus and began blocking them. His adrenaline spiking while an unnerving itch manifested at the back of his mind, urging him to scratch at an unseen memory, buried beneath layers of mud. As they fell into a balletic dance of violence across the kitchen and into the living room, he couldn’t suppress the overwhelming turmoil engulfing him, demanding he react offensively and not restrain himself.

“Khorosho! (Fine!)” he seethed, his blocking arms now being used as an offensive barrage until he catches her with a jab to the waist, winding her and allowing enough time to pull her into his arms. She reacted like a true feline, twisting her body around his as if it were made of clay until she wrapped her legs around his torso, and his head into a sleeper-hold.

With surges of raw energy arrowing through her, Selina kept herself straddled frontally against the heavy expanse of his torso as he unceremoniously staggered back in weighted paces against the viperous grip of her rear choke hold. A fierce embrace that wouldn’t slacken as he rumbled out a bestial cadence. Selina didn’t relent against her supple flesh met with hard iron bulk, her slender arms were twined around the width of his shoulders, fluidly anchoring the desperate momentum of her lithesome, curvaceous body as she blindingly arched her head back in a furious wake of throated snarl, gritting her teeth against the intrusive pain that became concussive through her veins-it was a breathtaking moment of dueled aggression, a hostile fever that couldn’t be doused.

Against the rigid swells of muscles crushing her with each brutal flex of his tanked, honing strength, Selina’s lithe fingers consciously traced over the throbbing pulse of his throat with a deft glide that smooth of edged blade as bladed chestnut strands caressed her knuckles, the destructive gravity of their feverish bodies was increasingly ardent -nothing could be underestimated between them as their fitted bodies melded together. The robotic assonance of his metallic arm deafened a mechanical whir against her ears, as she felt the cold alloy plates abrade her damp skin under denim, at the galvanic second she met the scrying ferocity of his vacant gaze under the askew of dark tresses, that hauntingly reminded her of black ice with slivery gleams of azure breaching the frigid surface. Right there in a heave of a breathless reaction, her thudding heartbeat was arrested by the quake of his resistance.

For a lean woman a good five inches shorter than himself, Bucky felt her forceful weight begin to bear down on him as she grunted and hissed like an unrelenting animal that had just caught her prey. His eyes were like burning sapphires from behind tussled dark locks, his lips parted into a viper-like sneer as he attempted to wring her off his torso, only to find that she was stuck to him like gum with no hope of peeling off. His mind was a riot of conflicting thoughts and impulses, but the one that screamed out most to him was his tactical voice urging him to not yield.

Objects, including a fruit bowl, tumbled off the counter as he attempted to find something to latch onto to gain effective slack. His corners of his vision began to darken to a slumbering black. He was close to being subdued. The thought invigorated him to burst through with a second wind. With a small roar bellowing from his mouth, Bucky throws his weight into the living room, feeling her body adjust on his own until they both fell tumbling onto the queen-sized bed. The grip around his neck loosened just enough for him to slip his massive cybernetic limb up, and he pressed his elbow against the smooth expanse of her neck. His weight pressed against hers, keeping her pinned below him, his foggy blue eyes glaring unrelentingly into her surprisingly coy iris’. “Yield.”

Her crimson lips quirked up devaintly, as she rasped back with a husky purr, heatedly against the broad expanse of his neck. “Now where’s the fun in that…” Given the tempo and neutralizing force resonated from his cybertronic arm wedged bruisingly against her graceful throat, hissing out an irate breath, Selina lost her seconds of intrinsic reaction of effective combat, the thickened bulk of his corded muscles sank precariously against her; the V shape of his slender hips fitted harshly against her voluptuous, hourglass curves, seizing her rampant pulse as rushes of infusing heat washed over her sleek flesh; every muscle of his body locked in reactive implosion as she remained braced underneath him, cascades of tousled mahogany flowed over the mattress as felt his arousal shockingly throbbing against her, evoking for instinstive surrender.

Arching the swells of her ample breasts against the planes of his chest, teasingly she relished the feeling of fury ignited passion edging between them; his eclipsing shadow darkened the contrast her pearlescent, exquisite features; arcing metallic elbow harder, gnashing his teeth Bucky snarled bitingly in Russian, holding gleams of smoky wickedness that alluringly mirrored the piercing torridity of his shadowed aqueous depths with a hint of menace.

Tilting his head down with a subtle motion of vehemence, Bucky’s brow was fractionally over hers with a phantom caress, amber glow of streetlight vanished his gusting breaths of cool peppermint flitted icily over the crimson swell of her slitting lips, as silence ensued around them.

For a moment, all was still as he felt himself spiraling into a crescendo of intoxicating allure. His steel-blue eyes shimmered like stormy waters washing over her. Warmth and fire surged through him, and he tried his best not to revel in the feeling of her lithesome body pressed beneath his own, nor how perfect they seemed to fit together. Bucky shivered and swallowed a lump in his throat, feeling the adrenaline in his body that was triggered by a spark of aggression now being fueled by something completely different. His face hovered over hers, wolfish strands of dark brunette hung like curtains from his disheveled mane, giving him the appearance of a feral creature.

“What are you…” He blinked suddenly in confusion, jostled by a familiarity that scratched at the back of his mind that called back to a memory he couldn’t comprehend. A rooftop, an extraction helicopter lingering close-by as two elite combatants wearing leather, battled with a balletic grace and ferocity that led to them winding up in this same position. He was distracted and enthralled feeling himself drift between two realities and the desirous siren who was looking up at him with a seductive smile. “Have we done this…before?” He whispered with a touch of awe and confusion. He could feel her cool minty breath close to his cheek, sending pleasant shivers down his body as his gaze flicked from her brown orbs, to the slit of her parted lips.

“You might say so,” Selina played it coy in her response, drawing out a pained moan roughly against the ruthless pressure of his metallic arm easing off her delicate throat, for a space of distance, cool air ghosted over bruising, feverish skin, a telltale resistance that brandished incredulously over his knife-edge and thickened features, as he panted out raggedly, furrowing his brows into a pinched notch, against the vertiginous waves roiling against his marred conscience—soul.

The naked heat of unshed tears gleamed in his owlish steel-aquamarine irises, as he breathed out achingly in hitching grunts, clenching his stubbled, pudgy jaw, his wide-bow lips went tremulously slack when inscrutability assailed. Power was there-a fierce and relenting hunger — an elemental, headlong force that couldn’t be evaded, only driven by ravenous need.

Being captive against the hard length of him, Selina felt the graven curves of his abdomen tightening with expansive flexes that involuntarily bulged over her black sweater. With a painstaking stroke of her palm gracing over his tensing nape, she languidly threaded her lithe fingers through his lengthy, dark wolfish tresses, savoring the virile softness of his unkempt mane as she effectively steadied him down to intimate submission with her.

Shuttering against the visceral awareness, with a smooth tilt of her hips, Selina arced into him with her last visage of restraint. For a soul-stealing moment, her shivery breath urged him nearer in hushed beckoning that was above a purring whisper.“Don’t fight it anymore, James, just take the moment with me…” she implored huskily, patent to the sirenic intent glinting in her dark eyes—she wanted more than physical distance, as unfeigned instincts betrayed her unshakeable poise. “Don’t be shy, handsome…”

He couldn’t explain the feeling that drew him to her. She was intrigue and mystique. Despite the darkness that she danced with, there was a guiding light about her that he yearned to follow. It gave him hope and excitement. As he listened to her coaxing words, there was a softness in her tone had a triggering reaction. A force so palpable, its power guided him slow and tentative until his lips finally covered her own. It was a moment of warmth surging through their melded bodies, passing between them as if they were two halves of a whole finally uniting. There was a stillness that lasted a moment, uncertainty in his unpracticed ministrations before he felt her reciprocating beneath his touch. Hesitation was abandoned instantly, and for the first time in many months, Bucky allowed his guard to drop.

Somewhere in the space of things, he had forgotten what it felt like to feel this connection—this passion. Her hands weren’t idle as they trailed a path up his shoulders, fingers threading through his wolfish locks. His body unconsciously grinding against hers, a stifling moan passing between dancing lips as the kiss deepened. Like a moth to the flame, he yearned for her heat—he yearned to feel burned in her enveloping embrace.

Closing her eyes against the fringe of rapturous desire that seared intensely through her veins, Selina indulgently moaned in breathless succession against the heady softness of his cushioned lips dizzyingly fusing against her yielding mouth in rhythmic, possessive slides —she felt the urges of his dormant hunger awakening strongly, and the melting demand of his thrusting, slanting mouth devouring her at breakneck pace, as wet flesh solidified deeper with enticing delight; it was imploding storm of relentless ardor.

With her fingers urgently kneading and yanking his lengthy strands to anchor him, a dark swath of tresses fell messily on her flushed brow, Selina felt utterly boneless and enraptured in the ardent dominance of his powerful embrace as the mattress dipped underneath their aligned, mirroring bodies; the world faded away as they emerged into another plane of existence.

Shifting under swells of dense muscle, a voltaic shiver razed Selina’s pulse when his bucked teeth dragged a tantalizing wake as he sensuously recaptured swell of her lip, urging her to duel fluidly with his bruisingly sensual need of their melding lips as his instinctive, headier growl resonated through her against each tactile throb of his mouth shaping feverishly over her swollen lips, grappling her into throes of passion as the tenor of the warring kiss altered into a ravenous, breathless infusion of delving thirst to their abandoned senses.

No words were spoken as they allowed their actions to guide them. Bucky was triggered in a way he hadn’t felt in so long, a part of him he thought lost was awakened like a dimmed candle now flaring with renewed life. The passion scorching his veins made his skin flush with heat. The woman beneath him was like a soft blanket he wanted to envelop himself in, her scent of lavender was intoxicating he wanted nothing more than to bury himself in its alluring fog. His lips suckled on her bottom lip as he felt the kiss becoming more intense—no longer tender but full of want and desire. Slowly their tongues began to dance and their fingers began to caress and explore each other’s arms and waists.

When the need for air became too much, they parted and inhaled each other’s scent. Bucky’s heart pounded in his chest while the swell of his pants began to throb with pressure. How long had it been since he’d been this intimate with a woman? How long since he felt this good, this…human?

Their rapid hearts were thudding in breathless unison, a consonance of intimacy that suffused their infusing bodies, as they became mirrored with each flex and spasm of muscle against heated resilience. The groundless measure of their dueling exchange became irresistible, demanding and rip-roaring with brutal intensity. The passion their bodies orchestrated was a wave of need, Bucky’s fusing lips were surging deeper as the devouring pressure increased, as he ravingly kissed her like fire spearing into ice; every pulse of his swollen mouth was urging her to submit while the heat was erupting in their rigid veins.

Each conscious move engaged memory into sensual convergence —to surrender. Her lips were urgingly anchoring him back to an Elysium, as each contrast of heat was aglow over their slick flesh. Selina jolted in a voiceless gasp, as his robotic hand left a tracery of metallic coldness over her delicate throat -she missed his phantom touch chasing her heartbeat.

He had begun trailing a heated path down the slope of her elegant neck when he had sensed her sudden reaction to the cold touch of his metallic digits. It was like a bucket of water being tossed over his flaming thoughts and harsh memories resurfaced of the Siberian Beast-Machine. He felt hesitant in the emerging distraction, until her coaxing lips urged him back into their passionate spell. He recaptured her lips with a more bold and heated purpose, drinking in a moan that passed from her mouth and into his. He hummed, tasting the strawberry lip-gloss and shuddering as her cool breath caressed his cheeks, reminding him of an arctic wind.

The small observation triggered more latent memories, the earliest of which occurred only 10 years ago in 2005 when for the first time, the Winter Soldier defied his orders and failed his mission. His mission…The woman.

“Selina…” Her name escaped his lips in a panting breath as all seemed to fall into place.

“Don’t think of anything else, krasivyy (handsome),” Selina hitched out a feverish, murmuring breath, her eyelids lifted as the depth of her stare glinted against scones of dimly light, decadent coffee merged into an elemental bronze; her lithe thumb deftly glided over the dimple of his thickened, bristled chin and the angular planes of his face, each trace of delicate promise was stabilizing him as his wintry grayish-aquamarine irises were dilated, stripped from lethal intensity that he reflected.

It was a desiring moment of eternity-an embrace of a connective love in the crossfires of their hellish pasts. The masquerade was over. She was lost against the taut hardness molding his body, the gentleness buried deep under steel- the fluid, virile heat that he wielded against raw hunger. Selina wanted to love him again in this lifetime and anchor out of the unstable gravity of the hell road those HYDRA serpents forced him to trudge, blindingly. “I know what you need, and it’s not hiding in this damn place…” she gritted back a terse breath, staring unblinkingly into his teary eyes. “The man I lost to HYDRA’s damn mind games was you…”

Despite her coaxing words of reassurance, Bucky couldn’t help but feel the heated passion of the moment fade away and he was suddenly climbing up off the bed—off of her. He moved quickly and distractedly as if he were stricken with a spell of nausea. The past flashed like a projecting film in his mind, replaying each memory as if they were someone else’s life he was observing. A spectacle without the emotions necessary to make them feel real. Time had been cruel to him and saw fit to force those feelings—good and bad—onto him eventually. He dreaded when they occurred for the past never offered him much comfort beyond the bittersweet reality that at least Steve Rogers was still alive.

With this woman…Selina, he remarkably felt no bitter emotions nor haunting grief to weigh him down. She had been a bright light—a beacon—he couldn’t help but reach out for in a moment of doubt. “S-Selina?” He spoke quietly, almost to himself as he now stood listlessly in front of the window, his back to her. “I-I remember you…We did…"dance” before. The Odessa operation…"

The strained tenor of his growly voice was rough, as spectral casts of remorse gleamed nakedly in his dismal steel-blue irises shadowed by lengthy tresses, Bucky shifted fractionally in subtle effort to keep distance between them while grim tension infused him. In the fluid grace of her lithesome body, Selina eased off the mattress, and with a cautious measure to the genuine intentness of her approach, she came at his side in an expanse of a heartbeat, the vibrant warmth of her body urging him to remain grounded there when his fists warningly clenched with quaking restraint, barely controlled and apparent to his gnashing teeth-he was trying to fight against the unsustainable gravity forcing him to a level of submission as he gripped the window’s paint scraped ledge, revealing only the barest trek of stray tears maundering down the serrated edges of his pugdy cheeks.

As she listened to him stifle back a throated gnarl, realizing that he was a captive of infinite anguish; Selina closed her eyes and whispered against the smokiness of her undertone, a beckoning resonance to make his brooding demeanor recede. “You know that damn radio silence is getting old pretty quick, handsome…"She paused in a tight breath, as her crimson kiss-swollen lips curved ruefully against a transparent smile. "I never had much use for good memories to fall back on, being a stray wasn’t living, just well surviving if that’s how to put it…” Her dainty hand ghosted a delicate flex of heat over his metallic knuckles, anchoring him out of the listless void he was edging further into. “You had good memories before those bastards made you into what they wanted you to be…I know you’re going to say you’re not worth the risk of this new dance, but handsome you’re damn worth it…”

The warm and assuredness of her ivory voice was like the sun over melting ice. Bucky wanted nothing more than to let himself be enveloped in her heated embrace that poured life into his empty shell. But the questions that lingered were like a magnet drawing him away from the warm-spell and he could only gaze out yonder from the window. The masses of ordinary people walking outside felt so far and so detached, he knew in his bones he could never be one of them again. Like Selina mentioned, they were both outcasts that could no longer blend into a peaceful mundane existence where the specters of war and chaos could not haunt them. They were damaged. Broken. Remnants of innocent people, unmade and exploited by evil hands that turned them into instruments of devastation.

“What I remember of that life…” He began in a distant voice, cerulean orbs glistening as they gazed out unblinkingly. “Its like a dream. Vivid and real one moment, but then too far to remember in the next. I wish I remember what it felt like to feel that…lightness. To not feel the burden of these demons I carry.” He finally allowed himself to blink once his sight became too blurred to see. Warm droplets flowed down his scruffy cheeks, trailing a path down until they dripped off his chin. He wiped them off the back of his hand, uncomfortable with feeling so vulnerable. “You say I’m worth that feeling again, Selina… Do you even know the things I’ve done? How many have suffered because of me?” He asked tiredly, unwilling to meet her stare.

As the murmurous, underlying rasp of his graveled timbre infused through her veins, Selina watched a defeated etch of remorse flitting over the sharp and hardened angles of his shadowed, boyishly chiseled features, Selina allowed the palpable tension between them pulse, fueling their stares to clash against a heartbeat. Selina always like she was on the hairbreadth of darkness, balancing on the edge that was a withering tightrope crossed between two split existences -survival and freedom.

The fringe of desolation and mephitic carnage that reeked in the alleys and backdrops of Gotham, made her drown in blood-she played many thieving pantomimes, and embraced the lethal masquerade of being the Cat-a dark silhouette that faded in the crimson rain. “You think I don’t know what’s like to dance with demons,” she breathed a stifling breath, her dark eyes held a vacant cast as she gazed out of the foggy mist wreathing against the grubby window pane. “I survived each damn hell-storm thrown at me by ruining a lot of good people…I didn’t have static in my brain telling me to pull the trigger, I’m a thief, sometimes I robbed families of their most precious treasures…” her silken undertone fell into a tensed whisper.

“Then I guess we’re both sinners that deserve to be where we are now. Lost with no purpose other than to hide in the shadows and survive to see the next day,” Bucky mused darkly, a bitter edge in his once somber tone that carried the weight of his guilt he had before been unwilling to confront. A damn had ruptured in his once stoic and reserved façade and the flood came pouring out. His stance shifted as he turned side-ways to look over at Selina, dry tears remained on his cheeks, glistening like crystals in the sunlight outdoors. Looking at her now was like looking at her in a whole new light. The soft glow of her rosy cheeks and the slight tussle of her once kept mahogany locks were the only indicator of their vigorous dance.

But what captivated him most was the fierce intensity of her coffee brown orbs that revealed the depth of her own sorrows. “Sometimes I wonder if that’s really a life worth living. Don’t you?” he asked, a vulnerability in his tone unveiled, a desperation that he’d been unwilling to reveal.

Watching the power of Bucky’s impassive, guarded stance grow rigid as tempered steel being clutched in shadows, Selina remained unperturbed with the knifing intensity of his grayish-aquamarine irises-a wolf’s gaze. His stubbled, heavy-set jaw grew taut as the sharpened edged clench in a reactive pulse to the inescapable remorse that seemingly gouged him deeply.

There was no effective answer for tuning down the soul-deafening volume of his screeching demons that regained possessive of his frayed conscious. Their gazes alight held into a silent beckoning, as Selina instinctively shifted her lissome form until the cool alloy of his cybertronic arm grazed her back. “People like us, don’t get happy ever afters when it comes to normalcy, but it doesn’t mean that we can’t have some fun dancing with the royal stiffs, James…” she implored, deviously, while her delicate fingers smoothed a tactile caress over his knuckles.

“Is that why you’re here? You want a dance partner to share the spoils with?” Bucky asked, his tone more bemused than bitter at this point with a soft smile on his boyish features. Though he held no illusions that solitude was the best course of action for his anonymity and safety, it did get dull after a while. He’d been unwilling to admit to himself that there was a part of him that missed the adrenaline that came with a new mission to undertake. He didn’t miss the bloodshed however, nor feeling a life expire beneath the crushing pressure of his indomitable fist…

‘Help… my wife… help my wife. Sergeant Barnes?’

A lance pierced his heart as perhaps the most devastating memory of his crimes resurfaced in his thoughts once again. His eyes closed, his expression deteriorating into a painful grimace that he fought to control. “That might not go as well as you think,” he tells Selina warily, opening his eyes to reveal a glimmer of distrust—towards himself. He was a wildcard who could hurt anyone and anything without knowing it.

Listening to the derisive seethe emit from his sneering lips, as he dipped his head down lengthy tresses curtained his stiffened jaw, it was damn evident that he was fighting against the undertow of repentant guilt in fruition; unflinchingly Selina reeled back with a casual measure of feline poise, giving him an extent of distance as the space between them solidified with unwarranted tension. Her coffee irises misted with tears, achingly, as he fisted his hand erratically at his side, restraining another bestial-murderous urge to deliver an unforgiving attack. 'What the hell did those snakes do to you, handsome…’ She glanced back passively at the notebook on the counter-his outlet to anchor him out of the damning labyrinth. “You don’t have to stay here and be alone…” she whispered tentatively, while he pinched his eyes shut. “Look, I know you’re in pain, James, but let me fight this with you, I’m not losing you again to HYDRA.”

Inwardly, Bucky could help but feel warm at her words of support and devotion. Of all the atrocities and dark things to have come from his tenure as The Winter Soldier, he never expected something good to have come from it. He was nothing more than a tool, a beast-machine manufactured to do nothing other than execute and obey. That somewhere along the line, a woman as gorgeous as an ethereal moonlight against a dark blue sky, had crossed paths with him and found him to be something—someone—worth chasing. Worth fighting for. Unexpected the warmth in his chest spread throughout his body, igniting his features into a soft smile.

“You’re an amazing woman, Miss Kyle, to consider chasing down a guy like me,” his smile curled into a flirtatious smirk as he noted how her eyebrows arched in surprise at the compliment. Somewhere deep down, the kid who charmed some of the most gorgeous dames in Brooklyn, took the wheel and drove him towards the brunette with one methodical step at a time. The distant and increasing tension was palpable as was an increasing heat in their bones. Though a shroud of uncertainty hung over him as he considered her offer, he could repress the resurgent need to reach out and touch her once more.

“But you’re right…” He swallowed a lump of emotion in his throat as he stood now in front of her, close enough to feel the heat radiating off of her body as he gazed down and into her swirling brown depths. “I really don’t want to be alone—not anymore. All this time it feels like I’ve been scratching at a wall I can’t climb, but for some reason with you here…” He trails off, uncertain of his own point and where he was headed as he became lost in her stare. “Nothing seems impossible…kotenok (kitten).” It was then that his thumb and index finger of his metallic digits reached up to caress the edge of her jaw—warm and coaxing.

Feeling the vestigial pulse of his metallic palm curve under the edge of her tilting jaw, evoked welling of painful tears inside her to slip over her cheeks, leaving a glistening line that vanished against the deft, unerring stroke of his thumb. The grievous iciness of her desire to feel his touch was embedded deep into her veins, that she had ached for Bucky Barnes-her shadow wolf.

There was always a high cost of emotions-true love, Selina knew. It was a fringe of eternity that reunited them for a moment to breathe; embracing a chance freedom out of the encompassing shadows, but their rebellious-tortured souls still adhered to the cold darkness, morphing them into stray apparitions that existed with a false reflection that was split down the middle with a stripe of blood. One variation of resistance would make the ground underneath them unstable. Right now, the silver gleams of moonlight held them for a joined heartbeat, against the traction of anguish that drove into their souls. Could they overcome this dividing rift and fully engage another dance without the masks? Closing her eyes, Selina bowed her head down, letting his sensual caress anchor her.

Everything flowed like a natural spring as Bucky guided her fully into the solid embrace of his arms and tilted her chin upwards. His heart ached to see the trail of emotion pouring out of her glistening brown eyes, so full of longing and grief, it was a look he was too familiar with. An overwhelming urge to dry those tears and ensure they’d never again spill due to sorrow. It was both a powerful and ridiculous feeling, but it gave him life and purpose—something needed more than his next breath. The longing in his heart increased ten-fold as his gaze flicked from the enchanting spell of her eyes, to the parted slit of ruby-bladed lips. The distance between them decreased as they each shuttered their eyes to a blissful darkness and allowed warmth to encompass them as their lips touched.

It wasn’t chaste nor full of the vigorous hunger that came with their initial make-out session on his bed. But there was an underlying desperation, an unspoken promise being passed between their breaths. Bucky held her close, his metal arm snuggly holding the small of her back while his hand made of flesh cupped the softness of her cheek. For a moment all was still as the world vanished around them, and Bucky decided there was nothing he wanted more than for this unexpected reunion to last as long as it could. Selina felt so perfect—so right in his arms, and he wasn’t about to let her go.

A slow flush of ardent heat suffused her as the steely flex of his torso hardened against the cool leather of her jacket; in the rapt wake of naked hunger, Selina could barely contain a breathless moan as her seized lips felt the exquisite contrast of velvety softness encasing the masculine firmness of his slanting mouth, a torturous intensity that edged against her—this indulging need was drawn out of them, a clashing duel of hearts that fought within a firestorm of challenging emotions. She felt dangerously enthralled as the full bow of his tracing lips archly increased into a deeper, heady thrust, pulsing and driving into an intoxicating ravish against the equal convergence of ebbing pain.

A guttural snarl grew increasingly ravenous, as the controlled strength of his braced flesh and metallic hands kneading the graceful lines of her delectable curves invested his bone-deep promise, as she became pure, fluid heat against his possessive fingers-an elemental fusion that imploded the depth of their kiss into a tempestuous ecstasy. Blindingly, her arms twined over the width of his broad shoulders, his tresses whisked her knuckles as he angled his sliding lips hotly to recapture her swollen, fevered mouth at the second their locking bodies fused until it felt impossible to separate as they both clung to the lifting steadiness of a chaste kiss-a ghost of reluctant heat. Reality struck as Bucky intimately laid the heaviness of his bristled cheek against hers, their eyes met with recognition anew glinting in liquid embers of bronze and glacial azure, unwaveringly against the streak of moonlight.

Once they parted for breath, they said nothing but allowed themselves to revel in the glow of their embrace and proximity. For a long and blissful moment, Bucky had forgotten about the demons haunting him at the back of his thoughts. For the first time in what felt like an entire life-time, he felt a bloom of happiness inside himself, as if something he thought lost had finally been returned to him in the most unexpected way. Placing a soft kiss against Selina’s temple he inhales the relaxing scent of her floral shampoo and asks with a low timbre. “Will you…stay tonight? It’s uh, getting late and gray out there.” He said, gesturing to the stormy clouds gathering outside.

“Wouldn’t want you to have to drive that fancy bike of yours out in that storm,” he offered with a cunning smile, looking down at her.

As hope grew alight in the cast of his sultry grayish-aquamarine eyes, Selina fell captive by the glacial intensity, a knife edge of passion that searingly pierced under the swath of his disheveled chestnut tresses, contrasting against the boyish curve tugging at his full lips. For an ambivalent moment, she unbearably glanced back at the doorway, feeling her steps edging closer to once again stray away. Only coldness and the emptiness of rain would grace her lips, not the supple virile heat that melted against her mouth, the icy taste of sensual mint that she relished. She felt his love-the undying promise that steadied the crescendo of her restless heart. When his metallic hand reached for her, openly, she took it without the obstruction of hesitance, but the need to finally be embraced by the depths of a true home. Giving him a radiant flash of a kittenish smile, her fingers curled over his knuckles, as she whispered, surely. “I’ll stay with you…”

Her acceptance brought life and youth to Bucky’s brightened smile. Months of loneliness and confusion had led him through a tunnel of sorrow with no light at the end of it. Despite the dangers and risks that lay ahead for both of them, Bucky was sure of only thing; they stood a better chance of succeeding if they were together. The past had molded them into hollowed shells with only dim sparks to fuel them. Those sparks had now become bright and powerful as the sun, and Bucky never felt as warm and strong as he did now as he guided Selina back into his apartment, allowing the door to close behind her. Tomorrow they would share a new beginning. Tonight the ghosts of the past wouldn’t haunt them.

Perhaps they never would again.

Completed: February, 17th, 2018

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