Some Rules Are Never Meant To Be Broken

Some Rules are Never Meant to be Broken

Pairing: Paramedic!Bucky X Reader

Rating: Mature

Genre: Greek/Roman Gods AU, Drama and maybe some Mystery 

Warnings: PTSD, Implied violence, anger control issues. Mentions of 9/11 attack and the war that follows. Otherwise mostly fluff, and some emotional therapy. 

Word Count: Heckin long 12,515. It started so well and then got away from me

Summary: Reader is a Muse living life as a tour guide at a museum. Bucky is struggling with returning home from war and adjusting to civilian life. He used to be a paramedic and now works security, but what he really misses from his pre-war life is his ability to draw. Cue the reader, determined to do her job and get him back to a point where he can do what he loves most. But, spending that much time with anyone always leads to romantic feelings, which is against her laws. Will she be able to resist Bucky long enough to help him and not get her in serious trouble?

Note: This is for @after-avenging-hours August AU Writing Challenge. I hope you enjoy it, messages are greatly appreciated. This is my first time writing in this style, so hopefully I did it justice. If enough people like it and want more, then there’s more to come. 

You don’t know when you switched the museum chatter to just background noise, but it’s been a while, so you didn’t really notice when it had disappeared altogether. You drone on to the group in front of you about the statue behind you, when you look around to your tour group, only to realize they have completely vanished. You glance around, fully expecting to see other museum visitors, but you are the only one in the massive room. 

It happens that way, sometimes. The harder cases that require your full attention, they make everything else disappear around them when you get close to them. You feel the familiar tug in your gut and you follow it towards the Greek and Roman exhibit. A man sits on a bench, a sketch pad in his lap and a pencil in his left hand. A loud snap reverberates around the hall from the now broken pencil in his hand. Something shiny glints on his hand like a glove and it takes you a long minute to realize that it isn’t on his hand, it is his hand. His metal hand. 

Oh dear. 

His long-sleeved maroon shirt stretches over his muscular frame as he bends over, clearly frustrated. You think you hear him mumble something. The words ‘no point anymore’ reach you and you can feel your heart stretching towards him. 

You blink and you’re back in front of your tour group again; bored faces waiting for you to keep talking. You oblige, only because it’s your job and five agonizing minutes remain on the tour. As you walk your group back to the main lobby, you pass a teenager who’s desperately looking for inspiration. The details aren’t clear, probably an art project that you will never see, but Your fingers ghost along his shoulders, just enough of your powers flowing into him to give him the edge he needed. Your stomach flutters happily at the transference of power and you smile to yourself. 

Don’t forget to sacrifice to your muse, you think jokingly. Not that anyone does that anymore, but that was never what you and your sisters fed off anyway. You meander your way back towards the Greek and Roman exhibit, hoping that your next favored is still there. A chime signaling the end of your day sounds as you enter the wing to find him sitting in the exact same spot, looking even more miserable. You take a hesitant step forward, but your natural charm fails you and you’re unsure how to proceed. 

He stiffens in his seat, back straightening a little and you briefly wonder what has set him on edge, but then he turns to look at you, his blue eyes hardening slightly. You almost cringe back under the intensity of it, but something tells you that would be the wrong move. 

“Do you know much about this piece?” you ask, taking another step forward, trying to exude calm despite your sudden nerves. 

He looks taken aback, like he isn’t expecting that to come out of your mouth. His full lips parts slightly, and his guarded expression drops. “Um, no, not really. Just that I like it.” he says, his voice is deep but velvety smooth. “Is this exhibit closing already?” He asks and you tilt your head.

“No, not at all. I just noticed you admiring her.” you say, taking another step forward. “It’s one of my personal favorites.” you continue, eyeing the statue of yourself. The face was wrong, he would never know that it is you he has been staring at so intently. 

“She was very beautiful.” he says, his shoulders tensing as if he is ready to bolt at a second’s warning. Your gaze drops to his sketch pad where he has a few rough lines drawn, but not much else. 

“You know, we encourage people to draw and sketch the exhibits. You never know when inspiration will strike you to create your own work of art.” you tell him, taking another step forward. he gives a derisive snort and gathers up his papers and pieces of broken pencil. The pencil is shoved into the pocket of his dark jeans, the pad tucked roughly under his right arm. 

“I was actually about to leave.” he says, dropping his gaze. You tip your head to one side, trying to figure out if he’s just intimidated by you, generally trying to give you the brush off, or completely not interested. That is difficult to believe, since your powers allow you to shift your appearance to your favored’s preference. You almost can’t even remember what your original face looks like anymore, having changed so many times over the millennia. 

He is dangerously handsome, with a strong chiseled jawline that can cut marble. His dark hair is longer than was fashionable these days, as if he had been too preoccupied to cut it for a long time and then just decided he liked it, but it fits him well. His tall frame is muscular and solid all over from what you can tell. He moves with an understated balance and grace that is hard to notice. 

“I’m Y/N.” you introduce yourself, taking another step forward. You couldn’t let him leave yet, he’s your next recipient, you can feel that desire to create taking root in your stomach, making you hungry; and so far, you have a perfect record. He looks up at you, finally meeting your gaze for longer than a few seconds. He is silent for a long time, so long that you are afraid he’s just going to ignore you, but then he speaks again. 

“James.” he said finally. You repeat his name softly, curling your mouth around it. Names have power in your world, and his name burns with it. 

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wake me up | amaranthine (4/10) | b.b.

summary: A mended heart is stronger every time it breaks.

WARNINGS: swearing, angst, fluff and tenderness, painful treatment practices, blood, tony’s a cute baby, implications of smut :^) pairing: bucky barnes x reader word count: 9.2k

a/n: written for @the-omni-princess for her writing challenge and inspired by @the-darklings​ who writes such heart-wrenching scenes concerning john and vipress (my WIFE) and also by the film marriage story. vibe song is the cover of wake me up by fleurie and tommee lee profitt.

amaranthine masterlist

So wake me up when it’s all over When I’m wiser and I’m older All this time I was finding myself And I didn’t know I was lost You wake, lurching forward as your hand flies to your breast. Cloth meets your palm and you swallow the foul taste in your mouth, sweat dappling your skin and gathering in your throat and underneath your arms and breasts. The figments of your nightmares disappear like ashes in the wind, and you try to catch your breath, your mind reeling. You don’t recall walking back to bed, nor dressing the wound on your chest.

You’d been too exhausted to do anything more but tape some gauze to your chest and settle in the chair in case Bucky needed something

Bucky.

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okay but that one anon who wondered where would Chris like his cum at and the way you answered made me think of a HC where you react to Chris shows his inner breeding kink because we all know he has one 😭😭🥵

you're not married or even engaged yet but your relationship is pretty serious

both of you know that you want to be with each other for the rest of your life

and so when he asks if you could maybe.... stop using your birth control

you actually feel okay with that

but ofc a little hesitant

he does a very good job of convincing you though

"baby girl," he starts, "you have no fucking idea how happy it'd make daddy to fill you up with my cum"

"to watch you carry our perfect child"

"to see how sexy you look when you're pregnant, how much more beautiful your body will become than it already is"

you can't help but think of how wonderful he'd be as a dad

and you know it's been his dream to have a family for a while now

he rubs your belly lovingly and leans down kissing at your neck

"all i want is to see your belly swell with my baby, sweetheart"

"and i'll take such damn good care of you when you're pregnant, anything for my baby girl and our son or daughter"

"please let daddy cum deep inside you tonight, baby doll... i'm not going to let one drop slip out"

you'd be lying if you said you weren't turned on

you look up at your boyfriend and slowly nod with a smile

"okay. let's make a baby, chris"

he practically groans just hearing you, even shudders a bit

this is better than any dirty talking he's ever heard before

when you guys are getting into it, he's already kissing and nipping lovingly at your belly as if the baby's already in there

"my sexy girl is going to look so fucking hot with her baby bump," he mutters along your skin

"gonna make sure any of those irritating boys who have their eye on you know you're mine now"

"you're going to be the most perfect damn mother, i know it"

as usual the sex is mindblowing, especially when paired with these husky whispers in your ear

and when he cums, he CUMS

he jerks his hips forward and presses into you as deeply as he can, a hiss of satisfaction escaping his throat

he pushes every single drop of cum in there just as promised

he even keeps his cock inside your pussy afterwards for good measure, the two of you cuddling in bed together as you cockwarm

you fall asleep with the warmth of his massive length inside you feeling completely content and secure

he smiles tiredly as he kisses your forehead

"i love you so much, mama."

Some Rules are Never Meant to be Broken Part II

Part I

Pairing: Paramedic!Bucky X Reader

Rating: Mature

Genre: Greek/Roman Gods AU, Drama and maybe some Mystery

Warnings: PTSD, Heavy flirting and still a lot of fluff, and some emotional therapy.

Word Count: 9,041 not nearly as long as part one

Summary: Reader is a Muse living life as a tour guide at a museum. Bucky is struggling with returning home from war and adjusting to civilian life. He used to be a paramedic and now works security, but what he really misses from his pre-war life is his ability to draw. Cue the reader, determined to do her job and get him back to a point where he can do what he loves most. But, spending that much time with anyone always leads to romantic feelings, which is against her laws. Will she be able to resist Bucky long enough to help him and not get her in serious trouble?

You’re unable to say anything for a second, trying to be quick about collecting your thoughts. 

“Back for good?” you ask finally. He looks over at you with a small shrug. 

“At least for a while. Hopefully, I won’t have to see her much,” he says. You look around the space. You need a distraction from picturing him with the gorgeous redhead. 

His apartment is spacious with off-white walls and linoleum covering the floor. It’s an open floor plan, no real distinction between what’s living room and what’s kitchen. The entire space feels very industrial, but you can’t put your finger on why. There’s a small dining table, two chairs like yours. A workbench is centered behind the couch, bolted to the floor. It was spotless, though. Not a tool left on it. A metal cabinet was on the far wall, locked shut. A door was shut to the left, his bedroom you assume, since the washer and dryer were in cubbyholes in the kitchen. 

“You lied to me,” you tell him suddenly. 

He looks up at you in surprise, his mouth tugging down at the corners. “About what?” he asks, handing you a glass of wine. 

“You said your apartment was barely functional.” You gesture around the space. “Look, you have some pictures on the walls, a TV, books. I was expecting a sleeping bag on the floor.” 

He shakes his head, cracking a smile. “It just used to have more stuff in it, is all, and I don’t really like the décor. I just never got around to changing it to my style after Nat left.” 

“Oh.” you watch him walk back to the island, his back to you. The definition of his muscles is clear even through the fabric of his shirt and you can’t help but stare. 

“Did you have a good day off? You were supposed to see one of your sisters, right?” he asks, glancing over his shoulder. You blink out of your reverie about his ridiculously good physique to answer. 

“I think I’d rather spend my next day off with you instead,” you tell him, getting up and moving over to the island. He looks up at you. 

“That bad?”

You shrug, leaning over and resting your elbows on the block wood counter. “They think they know everything. It’s frustrating to always be talked down to.” your fingers trace patterns in the wood. 

“I can understand that. They don’t like you spending time with me.” he guesses. 

You snort derisively. “They don’t like me spending time with anyone. Our… we have this…. you see, um…” you shake your head. “Let’s just say it’s complicated and leave it at that. They just think that because they’re older it makes them smarter.”

He watches you for a second and you think you’ve cornered yourself. He’s going to ask why you got so nervous all of a sudden and then he’s going to find out about Crossbones and that’s definitely something that would not help you do your job. But he just tilts his head with a half shrug. “That’s definitely not always true.” 

You’re anxious to change the subject now. You don’t want to talk about Callie anymore, or your family or your unfortunate situation. “Your ex, she called you Bucky.” you start, tilting your head up to look at him. 

“A nickname Steve gave me. My middle name is Buchanan,” he explains. 

“Does it bother you when people call you that?” you ask. 

He places his metal hand over yours and you realize you had been twisting a napkin nervously. “No, it doesn’t.”

“So why introduce yourself as James to me?”

He shrugs and you twist your hand in his, your delicate fingers tracing his cold metal ones. “I have no idea. It just came out. As does most everything else when I’m talking to you.”

There’s silence for a while as you follow the plate lines on his hand. “How was your day?” you ask. 

He groans. “Probably just as good as yours.” 

“Tony still not have anything new?” you ask. 

He shakes his head, closing his eyes. “And I got into an argument with him about it.” 

“When he does an update, does he replace the mechanisms inside?” you ask; an idea starting to form. 

“Sometimes, or the computer chips.” he looks down at you. “Why?”

“How does he get inside? I don’t see any releases.” You turn his hand over, your fingers trailing up the inside of his forearm. 

He presses his lips together, reaching over with his right hand. His nails catch on something and a few of the plates pop open like a hatch, revealing the mechanics inside. 

Having always been fascinated with the advancement of machinery, you had taken its inventors under your flag of a muse. Your sisters claimed medicine advances or something more glamorous. 

James- Bucky’s arm dominates your attention. You tilt his arm this way and that to see inside better. You lift a finger to nudge aside some wires before pausing. “May I?” you ask, finally looking back up at him. 

He’s staring at you, his handsome face impossible to read. He nods mutely and you explore a little more, forgetting about etiquette and not being too invasive. 

“Have you ever taken it apart?” you ask, lifting it to eye level to peer inside further. 

His voice is uneven when he answers. “Why would I do that?”

“Well, it’s not completely sealed, which means dust and skin particles can get inside.” 

He quickly pulls his arm back out of your grasp and snaps the plates closed in one fluid movement. Your hands are left hanging in midair, supporting nothing. He turns his back on you, walking a few feet away and holding his arm to his chest. 

“Sorry,” you mumble, face heating and feeling foolish. You aren’t sure exactly what set it off. Maybe the digging around inside his arm, maybe talking so casually about it, maybe all of the above. You sit absolutely still, unsure if you should leave and give him space; or just wait and give him some time to calm down. 

“Okay. I’m sorry,” he says as he turns back around. 

“I can leave if you need more space.” you offer quietly. 

“No, please-I’m okay now.” he takes a step back towards you. 

“Was I too-“ you trail off, unsure of your words. 

“I did mention I wasn’t completely comfortable with it yet, right?” he chuckles awkwardly. 

“I should have thought about that.” you sigh. 

“Y/N, I’m just… you’re so…” he shakes his head. 

“Infuriating? Dense?”

“Unreal,” he says finally. 

“Unreal,” you repeat flatly. That feels like even less of a compliment that infuriating. 

“You look so mad.” he cracks a smile. 

“Unreal. How-…” you clear your throat, trying again. “In what way am I unreal?”

“Everyone, for as long as I’ve had this useless thing, everyone has avoided me, avoided it. Avoided talking about it, looking at it, probably even thinking about it. And then here you come, impossibly open to this horror freak show. So accepting and you just don’t care. Everyone is afraid to say the wrong thing, afraid to upset me. And you just…. dive right in. Do you know, the first twenty times Tony had to open the hatches, he stammered and stuttered his way around it, never even actually saying the words? He couldn’t look me in the eyes. He can’t look at me while he’s working on it, or he can’t look at the arm while he’s talking to me. Steve, god, he tries. He tries to be a good friend but it’s just as much of an adjustment for him and he’s trying not to say the wrong thing; to not remind me of what happened.” he rants, pacing around the kitchen, almost as if he forgets you’re even there. 

“But you, you don’t pussyfoot around it. You’re all like ‘oh, you have a metal arm? Awesome. You could accidentally kill me with it? Great, let’s do dinner. It opens?! Let me poke around inside.’ Your attitude is so unfamiliar, unsettling, I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to it.” he stops in front you, his beautiful blue eyes finally landing on you. “What are you?” 

You freeze inside, scrambling to maintain a calm exterior. You feel like the rug has just been yanked out from under you. Then, your mind catches up with your guilty conscience and you realize it was a flippant comment. He doesn’t actually suspect you’re anything but human. 

“A goddess, remember? You said so yourself not so long ago.” you remind him, gesturing towards the front door. 

His face melts into a smile, crinkling at the corners of his eyes and he covers his face with both of his hands for a minute, taking a deep breath. 

“Also, that’s the most I’ve heard you say at once in the entire two weeks I’ve known you.” you comment, setting down your wine glass. 

“It just… happened,” he mumbles from behind his hands. It should happen more often; his voice is dangerously appealing to you. 

“Maybe,” you start slowly, taking his wrists. “It’s just a part of you. Maybe I don’t need to separate you from your arm. I didn’t know you before you lost it, so this, to me, is just who you are. And why wouldn’t I accept you this way? And, maybe, if I’m being completely honest, the intricacies of the mechanics and computers inside intrigue me.” you admit as he lowers his hands. “I’ve spent some time in war-torn countries before and amputees are more than the sum of their parts. You’re more than your arm, James,” you say gently. 

His eyes find yours and he leans forward an inch, two inches, his head tilts towards yours and it pulls you in like a magnet. You find yourself rising up on your tiptoes, caught in the force of him. Your skin burns hot and suddenly, he’s gone, pulled back as his hand digs in his pocket. His wide eyes search yours apologetically as he pulls out his phone. You shiver slightly at the absence of his body heat.

“Steve, this better be good,” he grumbles. 

You back into the counter as he turns and steps into the living room, speaking quietly into the mobile. Your heart is racing in your chest and you press a hand to your skin, feeling the thump-thump of it. Calliope’s face swims in front of your vision, her beautiful face smug in a classic ‘I-told-you-so’ fashion. 

“Shut up.” you mutter, squeezing your eyes shut, forcing her away. 

“What was that?” he asks, coming back into the kitchen. 

“Nothing. Is everything alright?” you ask as he stuffs his phone back into his jeans pocket. 

“Yes… No… Steve needs my help with something. I’ve told him I’m busy,” he starts, dropping his gaze. 

“What does he need help with?” You ask. 

“A design for one of his biggest clients.” he sighs. “I can walk you home. Knowing him, it will take a while.”

“Can I not come with you?” you ask in confusion. 

His head whips around. “You actually want to?”

“I would get to spend more time with you, right?”

“Ye-es.” he draws out the word, taking the question out of the tail end.

“Then I’m going. Besides, I want to meet your friend,” you say, walking towards the front door to get your coat. “We can do dinner after.”

“Oh, shit.” he lunges towards the oven and turns it off. “I would have left that on.” he shakes his head before following you over to the door. He pulls his boots on before slipping his arms into his leather jacket. 

Once outside, he hails a cab, opening the door for you. You slide in first, getting settled as he ducks in. You’re almost surprised that his big frame even fits. He gives the cabby the address and sits back. Confined in such a small space this close to him, you can feel a tension rolling off him that you hadn’t noticed before. Wanting, needing to be even closer to him, you slip your hand into his warm one and lean against his shoulder. You can feel him glance down at you, but he doesn’t pull away. 

“You were going to ask me something,” he says suddenly. 

You frown, trying to recall everything you’ve said since entering his apartment. “I was?”

“Before, when that… guy showed up at your place.” he reminds you. 

“Oh! Yeah. The museum is having a gala for the opening of a new exhibit next week. I was wondering if you wanted to come with me.”

“As your date?” he asks after a minute. 

“No, as my butler. Of course, as my date. I already see you every night, anyway. It won’t be too terrible.” 

He snorts and you feel him hesitate. “You sure you don’t want to ask anyone else?”

“James, you don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” you say. 

He stays quiet for a minute, his thumb tracing small circles on the back of your hand absently. “No, I’ll go,” he answers, his voice steady, sure.

Your smile hurts your face as you kiss his cheek. “Thank you.”

The cab stops in front of a building, but as you get out you realize it’s not the SHIELD offices, but another apartment building. 

“So, when you said we were going to see Steve, for some reason I assumed it would not be at his house.” you chuckle, slipping your hand back into his. He grins down at you and leads you inside, pressing the code to get into the door. He crosses the marble lobby to the bank of elevators and pushes the up button. Inside is quiet, eerily still as the doors closed. 

“I’m getting a horror movie vibe, here,” you tell him and he laughs, bumping your shoulder gently with his own. 

“Don’t worry. Steve is probably the nicest guy I know. I would even go so far as to say too nice.” The doors open with a quiet ding and he leads you down a hall before knocking on a door. You tuck behind him slightly as the door opens. A man is on the other side, just as tall, just as wide, just as rock solid muscular. 

“Thank god you’re here, I’m drowning.” the man starts before turning back into his apartment. 

Bucky turns to look at you before gesturing you to go in first. His hand on your lower back guides you in and he shuts the door behind you both. 

“I’m really sorry to pull you out of your hot date, Buck. I hope she wasn’t too mad at you.” Steve turns around, his eyes immediately landing on you. 

“She wasn’t.” Bucky smiles, helping you out of your coat, although he did look slightly embarrassed.

“Hot date, huh?” you tease, watching as he shrugs out of his own jacket. 

“Uh, sorry, Buck.” he turns to you. “I’m Steve Rogers. It’s nice to finally meet you,” he says, holding out his hand. 

You shake it firmly with a smile. “I never would have guessed. I’m Y/N.”

“What are you stuck on, Steve?” Bucky asks and Steve gestures for him to follow. They head over to a large art desk with pages spread all over it. You watch them curiously, seeing a little bit different side to James, more animated, slightly more at ease. 

Steve, on the other hand, is wound tight like a coil. It’s painfully visible under the blue shirt that is almost the exact same shade as his sky-blue eyes. You’re beginning to think that the two men only buy their shirts in extra small, one wrong move and they were going to rip right off. There have to be bigger shirts out there. The contrast between his broad shoulders and his narrow hips is almost comical. He looks like an upside-down Dorito. His short blond hair is a mess as if he’s run his hands through it a thousand times distractedly. 

“Sorry to interrupt your date, Y/N. Do you want to order food for here?” Steve offers, pulling you out of your thoughts. 

You glance at Bucky, trying to judge his reaction. “If James wants to order, that’s fine with me. And if he wants to wait until after like he planned originally, that’s fine with me, as well,” you tell them, getting off the couch and walking over to them. You rest your hand on Bucky’s lower back, leaning to peer over the papers they had been staring at. 

“We can order in,” Bucky says, glancing down at you. 

“That’s fine.” you agree, tracing the square footage on one of the dimension lines. It takes you a second to convert the numbers in your head, but you’re floored when you realize how big this building is going to be. 

“Is this a house for someone?” you ask, looking up at Steve. 

“Yeah. We designed his office space two years ago and now he’s redoing his home. He asked for me specifically, but it’s freaking me out a little. He gave dimensions for the outside, three stories tall.” Steve shakes his head with a small sigh. “I’m worried I may have bitten off more than I can chew,” he says with a glance at his friend. 

“To be honest, Steve, I don’t really know why you called me, other than the fact that we’re best friends. I’m not a designer or an architect.” Bucky says apologetically. 

“But you’re an artist.” Steve starts. 

“Not anymore.”

Steve’s face colors red and he drops his gaze. 

“I can help.” you offer. “Do you have a pencil and big paper?” 

“Yeah. I’ll be right back.” Steve rushes off to one of the closed rooms and Bucky turns to you. 

“You don’t have to.”

“He’s your friend and he’s stressed out. I want to help,” you tell him, your fingertips pressing to his forearm, letting the inspiration flow into him. Not too much to drive him crazy without being able to do anything about it, but enough that he could come up with ideas to help his friend. It was a fine line, a useful skill you had learned a long time ago. “It will be fun.” 

He links his fingers with yours as a small sigh escapes his lips. “Alright.” he holds the backs of your fingers to his mouth for a second until Steve comes back. 

“Alright, what do you have in mind?” he asks, handing a stack of papers, a pencil, eraser and colored pencils to you. You sit in front of the desk and prop the papers up to draw more easily. 

“What do you know about them?” you ask Steve, sketching the dimensions of the kitchen first. 

“He and his wife travel a lot. They love the Mediterranean. They have a ton of pictures of them in Greece and Italy. Um… they love to cook. They have a daughter, she’s getting married. The wife loves to sculpt and garden. He likes golf and soccer… I don’t know what you’re really looking for.” he says with a shrug of his shoulders. 

“No, that’s perfect. Big kitchen, lots of counter space, storage and a Butler’s Pantry, I think.” you muse, sketching out the stove, the oven, and the fridge. You add details to the sketch like black splash subway tiles behind the stove in traditional blue and white Greek colors. Towards the bottom of the sketch, front perspective is a large island with a vegetable sink.

“What if you put small columns on the bottom of the island on either side of shelf space, like at the Parthenon?” Bucky suggests, leaning over your shoulder and pointing to it. His breath tickles your ear but you nod, sketching the columns, getting the exact shape of them perfectly. You label the proportions in a small font based on the bigger size of the room. 

You slide the page over to Steve while you start on the next wall of the kitchen with the sink and the fridge. You sketch a farm sink with an arched bay window that looks out over the backyard, lots of counter space and a hidden fridge. 

The next sketch is the third wall, which contains the Butler Pantry, even more, counter space and extra storage for whatever. 

The last wall of the kitchen is next and you draw out a half-wall with a half bar at the far end where the walls connect. 

“What about an archway, like the Colosseum?” Bucky suggests, pointing to the end of the half-wall. 

“That’s perfect.” you look over your shoulder at him, grinning. You sketch out the column, supporting a brick archway on both sides. You draw a countertop, with the tops of bar chairs visible on the other side for a breakfast bar. 

“You’re seriously good at this,” Steve says, studying your sketches.

“Eh, it’s all your information and I really like Bucky’s idea of the columns and arches. It’s something you can incorporate throughout the place without it being cheesy,” you say; as if Greek or Roman aesthetics could ever be considered cheesy. 

“What did you want to order, Y/N?” Steve offers. You glance up at him as you start to frame the living room. 

“Whatever you two want is fine. I’m not picky,” you say, turning back. 

You sketch out the living room while they order the food. You make it nice and bright and homey, with Roman blinds and a lovely reading cove on a beautiful window bench. You keep with Bucky’s theme of columns separating the front hall from the living room and archways between every column. 

You’re actually grateful for the break when the food gets there because your hand is starting to cramp. 

“I’ve got water, beer, milk, soda.” Steve lists off, glancing at you. 

“I’ll take a beer, it’s fine,” you say, moving over to the couch, sitting at the end and leaving space for the two friends to sit together. 

Dinner is immensely enjoyable. You find out that Bucky and Steve have been best friends since early childhood, nearly inseparable. 

“I never would have guessed you were from Brooklyn,” you tell Bucky and he chuckles. 

“So, Y/N, what are you doing tomorrow? Any chance I can harangue you into doing some more designs?” Steve asks. 

“So, I have two lectures tomorrow, but you’re more than welcome to stop and you’re more than welcome to harangue me after.” you chuckle. 

“Sounds fair.”

“That will give me time to come up with more ideas.”

It’s late by the time Bucky insists you leave, mostly after a particularly embarrassing story about him that Steve was telling. 

Your face is flushed from laughing and having a good time as he leads you outside. You slip your hand into his ever-cool metal one and lift it to your cheeks. He watches you for a long moment as you close your eyes. 

“You feel like you’re burning up,” he comments quietly. 

“I’m alright, it just feels nice,” you tell him, before allowing your hands to slip back to your sides, still intertwined. “Are we going back to your place?” you look up at him curiously. 

“It’s already pretty late, didn’t you say you have a lecture in the morning?” he replies, his mouth pulling down in the corners. 

“Already trying to get rid of me? Doesn’t bode well for us.” you say with a laugh, pushing your sister’s face out of your mind. He gives a small laugh while closing his eyes. 

“I’m not trying to get rid of you, I just don’t want you to be exhausted for tomorrow.” 

“I guess that’s an acceptable answer. As long as you walk me home.” you counter and he grins. 

“What kind of gentleman would I be if I didn’t do that?” 

The walk home would be long, but as long as you get to spend more time with Bucky, it’s worth it. 

“I had fun meeting Steve tonight, I’m glad we went over,” you say, slipping to his right side and pulling his arm around your shoulders, linking your fingers together. 

“I’m not so sure I’m glad about it, what with him spilling all my terrible stories.” he laughs. 

“Are you kidding? Those were the best parts.” A tingle crawls up the back of your neck and you turn to look around. The streets are empty, a few cars parked next to the curbs but, not a soul around. And yet, you still have the feeling of being watched. Maybe it’s someone inside their apartment, curious as to who is out so late. 

“What is it?” he asks instantly, following your gaze. He squints, trying to see into the shadows. 

“Nothing. I’m just not used to being out so late.” you shrug, not wanting to worry your soldier. He hesitates a second longer but apparently doesn’t see anything. He shifts his arm around you, pulling you closer against him, but the feeling is more protective now as if he’s trying to shield you. 

You try to lighten the mood as you walk and it seems to work mostly. He walks you up to your apartment and you hesitate outside the door, fidgeting with the keys in your hand. 

“Are you sure I can’t convince you to come inside and stay a while?” you ask, your hands falling to the sides of his shirt. He smiles slightly. 

“I think it’s best if we call it a night for right now,” he says. 

You blow out a sigh. “I suppose that’s fair.” You drop your gaze to the floor, trying to control the wistfulness you can feel on your face. 

“What’s your lecture on tomorrow?” he asks. 

“Art history in the medieval era.” you look back up at him. “I don’t suppose you’d like to sit in and listen? It’d be kind of boring, it’s not necessarily my favorite era of art.” 

“I’d love to watch you bore students to death.” he grins and you laugh.

“Great. I’ll leave a pass for you at the desk of Jefferson Hall,” you tell him. He watches you for a second, eyes searching yours before he leans down and kisses you. 

His lips are impossibly soft against yours as heat spreads across your body and the air is pulled out of your lungs. His right hand cups your cheek, pulling you in closer as his tongue swipes across your bottom lip. Your lips part for him as you card your fingers through his long hair as you rise onto your tiptoes. His left hand grips at your waist, squeezing unintentionally hard. He pulls back, his eyes a little wild as he stares at you. You press a softer kiss to his lips with a smile. 

“Goodnight, Bucky. I’ll see you tomorrow,” you say before turning and opening your door. Once it’s closed, you lean back against it, taking slow breaths. After a minute, you hear him walk away, your smile growing even wider. 

What is wrong with you?

You cross your apartment to look out the window facing the front of your building. You see him exit a minute later, pause in the street and look back up to your window. You wave and he smiles slightly, waving back. You turn back into your apartment, but something doesn’t feel right. You turn back to the window. 

Bucky is walking away, but there’s something… odd. That tingle on the back of your neck is there again, like when Apollo is talking about you. But you don’t see anyone around. 

“Stop being paranoid,” you tell yourself with a huff and turn back to your apartment to get ready for bed. 

***

The lecture hall is dimmed for your slideshow. You can see maybe ten rows back, but the whole back of the theater is shadowed in darkness. Your students are diligently taking notes as you speak about the history of the pieces. 

The back door opens and a person is silhouetted against the bright light from the hallway. They approach one of the back rows and you smile to yourself when you see that it’s Bucky. He takes a seat as you change the slide to a picture of a fresco. 

“This fresco is titled The Effects of Good Government. It was in the City Hall of Siena in 1338 And was completed by Ambrogio Lorenzetti. It is one of six different scenes that are part of a bigger picture. Commissioned by the Council of Nine, the pieces Allegory of Good Government, Allegory or Bad Government, Effects of Bad Government in the City, Effects of Bad Government in the Country, Effects of Good Government in the City and Effects of Good Government in the Country are civic rather than religious. The purpose of so many pieces-“ you cut off as the door opens again and a chill goes up your spine. You squint to try and see who has come in, but they remain in the shadows and you can’t see anything. Bucky is frowning at you out of the corner of your eye, suddenly on alert. “The purpose of these pieces was to remind the Council of Nine what was at stake as they made their day to day decisions.”

“Maybe somebody should hang those in the White House.” one of the boys laughed. Some of the other students chuckle appreciatively but quite a few remain silent. Politics is never a decent thing to bring up in polite conversation. 

You change the slide to the next picture, a man with horns, tusks and squinty eyes. “This is the Tyrant in the Allegory of Bad Government.” You try to focus, but you’ve lost your train of thought now. “How about we all take a five-minute break,” you suggest, setting down your clicker. The student all break up into smaller groups and Bucky approaches the stage. 

“You alright?” He asks as you sit on the edge, dangling your legs over.

“Yeah, I’ve just lost my train of thought. I think you’re distracting me.” you tease. 

“I didn’t think you could get distracted.” he chuckles. 

“Oh, I get plenty distracted.” you return, your gaze dropping to his biceps. “Lots of ways for you to distract me.”

“Who was it that came in after I did?” he asks curiously, his hands resting on your knees. 

“I’m not sure, I couldn’t really see. I only knew you came in because you sat in the lighted part,” you tell him, your fingers tracing his hands. “It’s probably just another member of faculty sitting in. They do that sometimes.” you shrug. 

He glances behind him at the students taking their seats again. “I think your five minutes of distraction is up,” he says with a smirk. 

You groan and he helps you slide over the edge of the stage. He goes back to take his seat and you’re aware of eyes following him. The guys are intimidated and the girls are drooling. You can’t blame them either way. You take a deep breath, closing your eyes before you go back up there. 

You are a 5,000-year-old goddess of the arts. You have inspired millions to greatness. You can give one lecture with a gorgeous man in the room. 

Don’t be an idiot. 

Bucky

She’s amazing. I never cared about history, let alone boring political art history, but I’m hanging on her every word. 

After her lecture was over, I waited as the students filed out and she packed her laptop away. I could feel their eyes on me, but I pretended they weren’t there, as I usually did. 

I’m not sure what changed in the atmosphere, but something was wrong. I looked around, glancing behind me. All I can see are students walking out to go to their next class. 

“Stop being paranoid, Barnes,” I mutter to myself, pushing the feeling down. It’s not easy, to let go of being hyper-vigilant when you’re so used to it for five or six years. It becomes so ingrained in you that actually admitting you don’t need it anymore is almost as painful. But for Y/N’s sake, I need to move on. I had wanted to do it for Natasha, but I just wasn’t capable then. I think I’m ready now. 

“Hey.” she appears in front of her, her perfume washing across my face as she pops up on her tiptoes to kiss my cheek. 

“Ready?” I ask, taking her bags from her. 

“Yeah, so my second lecture is canceled because they need this room for something else. So, I’m all yours for the rest of the day,” she says and I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face. 

“Oh, scratch that. You’re Steve’s for the rest of the day. You did promise him more drawings.” I remind her. 

“Oh, right. Well, we have time to go eat first, right? Just the two of us?” she asks, slipping her hand into mine and bumping into me. 

“How am I supposed to even try to resist that?” I laugh. 

“That’s kind of the point.” she grins. “How do you feel about pizza?” 

“Like I could eat two by myself.”

Her laugh is infectious as we exit the building. “Okay, I know this amazing place. It’s a bit of a walk, but it’s so worth it,” she promises. 

“I’m fine. Probably better than you.” I tease, looking down at her heels. 

“Listen, I walk five miles around the museum almost every day in these. I can handle a walk to get pizza. And if I can’t, then I guess you’ll just be carrying me the rest of the way.” 

I laughed, tipping my head back. “I can handle that.” 

“What about if I can’t make it? Who’s gonna carry me?” I ask and her head turns slowly towards me before she cracks up. “Will you? I’m very delicate, you know.”

“I’ll call a cab.” 

I feigned being hurt. “You wouldn’t carry me?”

“What’s adorable is that you think I’m actually capable of carrying you. I don’t know if you’ve looked in a mirror lately, but you’re giant. Even if I were to carry you, your feet would still be touching the ground.” 

I grin and drape my arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer against me. “I suppose it’s the thought that counts.” Her arm snakes around my waist, holding herself tight against me as we walk. 

“You’re in a good mood today,” she comments. 

“Well, let’s review. I’m here with you, it’s beautiful outside, and I don’t have to deal with Stark poking me with pliers and wrenches and anything else he can reach. You’re a million times better company.” On an impulse, I press a kiss to the top of her head. “Why wouldn’t I be in a good mood?”

“I’m glad I can help.” she smiles up at me and standing there, in the sun, her hair all lit up with the reds and golds from the light, I’m completely floored by how beautiful she is. I mean, it’s not like I haven’t noticed before, I’m traumatized, not dead, but there are little moments like this where she looks at me a certain way and I have a hard time pulling my eyes away. 

“This is it.” she heads into a brick building and I follow her inside. It smells like hot clay, dough and melting cheese. My stomach rumbles a little less quietly than I would like and she laughs at me while my face heats.  “Looks like we made the right call to get food.”

I look down at my torso, glowering. “Traitor,” I mutter and she lets out a peak of laughter. 

“To be honest, my stomach has been doing that since this morning. I didn’t have time for breakfast.” There’s a strange look that flits across her face, unease maybe? 

“Overslept?” I guess. She takes my hand again and we move closer to the counter to order.

“I couldn’t sleep last night. Too many things in my head, I guess.” she tries to be subtle about looking up at me, but it just ended up giving her this flirtatious smoldering look. 

God, she’s dangerous.

“Was the kiss that bad?” I tease and she groans, leaning against me for a minute. 

“That good actually. I almost called you to come back over and do it again.” 

“I had the same problem. I guess that’s a good sign, though. Right?” We step up to the counter and realize we haven’t actually discussed food yet. “The sausage and mushroom sounds good,” I suggest. She nods to the guy behind the counter. 

“A large please.” she reaches for her purse but remembers that I still have it. 

I pull out my wallet and swipe my card before she can protest. “Go pick out a table.” I nudge her in that direction and she sticks her tongue out at me. I sign my receipt and follow her over. 

“This blue looks perfect on you,” I say as I sit down across from her. It’s a bright lacy thing that sits lightly against her skin, showing off her toned arms. 

She smiles widely up at me. “Thank you. I almost didn’t buy it, but I changed my mind at the last minute. Callie was trying to talk me out of it.” her face darkens for a second. 

I squeeze her hand gently. “Well, good call not listening to her.” She turns her hand over on the table and holds mine. I feel something cold on her finger that I didn’t notice before. I move her hand to the top and notice a spiral ring shaped like an arrow that’s been wrapped around her middle finger. 

“This is interesting,” I comment. 

“In honor of a friend of mine,” she says and I suddenly feel guilty for bringing it up. 

“Oh, I’m sorry. What happened? If you don’t mind me asking.”

She laughs. “Nothing, he’s fine, but if I didn’t wear it, he’d be upset and then we’d have a real problem.” 

I tried to control my features. She used the word friend, but bile coated my mouth as jealousy wormed its way into my stomach. I didn’t like that she was wearing jewelry for another man.

“Bucky?”

I look up at her and I have another compulsion to tell her the truth, like the other night when she asked so many questions. 

“I’m… I don’t think I liked hearing that.” I say and her mouth tugs down at the corners. I instantly want to take it back. “I mean, I’m- “

“Jealous?” The smile is back, reaching her eyes mischievously.

“Yes.”

“Is it bad that I really like that?” she ducks her face as our food is delivered. “I don’t get many opportunities to have someone be jealous over me.”

“And now you’ve had it happen twice,” I say, pulling a slice onto a plate. The crust is hot and puffy, just the right amount of pull as it comes apart from the rest of the pizza. 

“Twice?” she asks, pulling her own slice and blowing on her fingers.

“When Rumlow showed up at your place. I really didn’t like it, and you were speaking so quietly. I thought maybe he was your boyfriend, or an ex, somebody who has a place in your life… in your heart. But then you were kicking him out and I loved watching his face as I shut the door in it.”

She laughs quietly. “Rumlow is a jerk and will never have a place in my life, don’t worry about that. And as for my friend,” she holds up her hand, indicating the ring, “he’s just a friend, more like a brother if I’m being honest.” she raises her eyes to the ceiling for a second before whispering, “a bit insufferable.” 

I grin and take a bite.

***

Steve isn’t there when Bucky lets us in. 

“Are you sure he won’t mind?” you ask as he sets your bags down. 

“Positive. I can’t tell you the number of times he’s been lurking in my apartment when I’m not there.” he grins over at you. 

“That’s not creepy or anything.” you laugh, taking a seat at the art bench again. You pull your already completed sketches towards you, capturing the feeling of the rooms again. 

“See any more paper laying around?” you ask. 

“Hold on. I know where he keeps it.” Bucky disappears as you study the blueprints a little more. You need to make sure you have the dimensions correct. He comes back out and sets several sheets in front of you. “See? I know things.” he presses a kiss to the top of your head and heads for the kitchen. “Want something to drink?”

“I’ll take some ice water,” you reply, sketching out the walls for the rooms left. 

By the time Steve walks in, you’re almost done. You can hear him toss his keys into the metal bowl by the front door and kick off his boots. Bucky is stretched out on the couch, arm flung over his eyes, exhausted from watching you draw for the first twenty minutes. 

“How’s it going?” Steve asks, walking over to you. If he’s surprised to see you there, he’s good at hiding it. He drapes his right arm casually around your shoulders, pulling the sketches towards him with the left. 

A little bubble of something floats in your chest at his actions. Appreciation, maybe? You’re not entirely sure, but you really like the way he seems to have accepted you in Bucky’s life so easily. He could have been wary of you, warning you to treat his best friend only the best way possible, he could have been rude to you since he probably knows Bucky’s ex. Instead, he welcomes you like he’s known you his whole life. 

“Wow, you’re almost done.” he muses, lining the frames up. 

“Do you like them?” you ask, looking up at them. 

“They’re great. My client is going to love these. I better watch out, you’ll be taking my job soon.” he grins. 

“Nah. Unless you have any more clients that are really into Greek and Roman revival.” you laugh. 

“Bucky mentioned you’re from Greece.” Steve nods. “How long had sleeping beauty been asleep over there?” he jerks his head towards the couch. 

“About two hours?” you guess, rubbing your wrists. You didn’t realize how stiff they had become. 

“I’m not asleep,” Bucky mumbles from the couch and you laugh loudly.

“I’m sorry, was that not snoring I heard a little while ago?”

“Must have been from you because I’ve been listening to you talk to yourself this whole time. Couldn’t catch a wink if I tried.” 

Your eyes get wide and you look up at Steve. He’s trying desperately not to laugh. “He’s in a mood today,” you explain, sticking your tongue out at the back of the couch. 

“Be nice to her, Buck, she’s doing me a huge favor,” Steve says once he can control his face again. 

“I’m always nice to her.” he hooks his hand over the back of the couch and pulls himself up. “Aren’t I?”

“A perfect gentleman.” you answer deadpanned. Steve snorts and heads for the kitchen. 

“I’m sure he is. Come on, Señor Simpático. You can help me make dinner.” he claps Bucky on the shoulder as he walks past. 

“This should be a disaster.” Bucky winks at you and hauls himself to his feet, following his friend. 

Bucky

“You were totally sleeping.” Steve laughs as he starts pulling things out of the fridge. 

“And risk freaking out on her? No way. It was hard not to, though. I had to keep pinching my arm.”

“That tired?” he asks, looking at me with concern. 

“That comfortable. Being around her is too easy.”

“Leave it to you to find something too easy. Bucky, come on. She might be more understanding than you give her credit for.”

“Natasha wasn’t. And she knew me for years beforehand.” I sigh. 

“That girl in there is not Nat.” he looks at me, a guilty expression on his face. “She was at SHIELD today,” he says and I hang my head. 

“I know. She was waiting outside my apartment yesterday to talk to me about it. They’ve hired her temporarily.” 

“Does Y/N know?”

“Yeah. She showed up while we were… communicating.” I roll my eyes and lean against the counter. 

“What does she think about it?” 

“I swear, you’re like a 15-year-old girl at a sleepover, always looking for gossip.” 

“Just answer the question, jerk,” he mutters. 

“I don’t know. She seems okay. Hasn’t really acted any different.” I look down at what he’s doing. “Why are you making so much food?” 

“Well,” he starts and I groan. “Please tell me it’s not Sam.”

“Would you rather I invite Tony over?” he fires back and I cross my arms over my chest. 

“What about Lang? He’s always good for a laugh.”

“Scott? I’m not sure I want a known thief knowing where I live.”

I scoff. “If he really wanted to steal all of the stuff you don’t have, he could easily find out where you live. Besides, he’s reformed… mostly.”

“Boy, she’s right, you are in a mood tonight.” he looks at me. “It’s Sam. And you two are going to behave tonight and be civil.”

“I will if he will,” I mutter and Steve gives me a look. “Yes, mom.”

“Get out of here.” he sighs. 

I walk back in to see her rolling her neck from side to side. “Everything okay?” 

“My neck is stiff from sitting in one spot for so long,” she says, rubbing it. 

“Here.” I moved over behind her, scooping her hair off the back of her neck. There was a mark there, just at the base, almost faint like an old scar. Only it’s too pretty, not jagged enough to be an accident. “What’s this?” My fingers trace it lightly and her hand flies back to touch it. 

“Oh, nothing. What were you going to do?” she asks, gathering all of her beautiful hair to the side. 

I placed my hand gently on her shoulder and squeezed the muscles, beginning to massage them. They were tight, hard to move. She hung her head forward, a small noise escaping her mouth. 

“Use your other hand, too. I feel lopsided.” she pats her left shoulder. 

“Y/N, I can’t- I don’t want to hurt you.” I start. 

“I’m tougher than I look.” she insists, reaching behind her and pulling my hand up to her shoulder. “Besides, if you act like you’re afraid of it all the time, you’ll never get used to it.” 

I test my pressure with my thumb, pushing it into the fleshy part of her muscle. It’s like using a hand that’s asleep and numb to try and pick up needles. 

“Mm.” she hums. “Go just a little bit more.” 

I push slightly harder and she grips the edge of the art desk. 

“Perfect,” she whispers. 

I try to keep the pressure the same as I begin to move my hand, left first finding my rhythm before moving my right hand in sync with it. It takes a long minute, but her muscles become pliable under my hands, less like stone and more like putty. I drag my thumbs up the outside columns of her spine with the same amount of pressure and I can feel they’re just as stiff. I focus there for a minute and the muffled noise she makes almost makes me lose all control. 

“Anybody want a refill?” Steve calls from the kitchen and I jerk my hands away. 

“Yes, please,” she calls with a sigh and leans back against me. “You have magic hands.”

I snort, rubbing my right hand down the side of her arm. “I don’t know about that. What are your muscles made of, anyway? It’s like I was touching a statue.” 

A sort of hysterical laugh escapes her mouth. “Let’s just say it’s been a long time since anyone has done that for me.” she takes my hand in hers, pressing the back of it to her mouth. Her lips are warm against my skin, so soft and silky. “Thank you for doing that.”

A knock sounds at the door and Steve comes in to answer it. “Hey, Sam. Right on time.” he steps back and lets Sam Wilson in. “Tired already, Y/N?” he comments as he turns back around. “Sam, his is Bucky’s new friend.”

She gives a chuckle that I can feel in my chest. “Nice you meet you, Sam. Just comfortable, Steve. Do you need help with dinner?” she asks, sitting back up. I wanted to pull her back against me and never let go, the feeling of her touch is becoming addicting. 

“I’d hate to pull you away, not that Buck would let me.” he laughs with a look at me. 

I shrug. “I’m capable of letting go,” I say, completely unconvincingly. She laughs easily and stands up, stretching before following Steve into the kitchen. 

“So, what are we making?” she asks and Steve launches into an explanation. 

***

“Thanks again for dinner, Steve. It was delicious,” you say, pressing a kiss to his cheek. 

“It was the least I could do since you finished those designs for me two weeks ahead of schedule.” he laughs. “I don’t know how I’m going to explain it.”

“Oh, that’s easy. You turn in one or two at a time so that it looks like you’re still working on them.” 

He grins. “Night, Bucky. See you tomorrow.” They shake hands and the door shuts behind you as Bucky drapes his arm around your shoulders. 

“Is it terrible that I don’t even want to go to work tomorrow? I’d rather just spend all day with you,” he mumbles as you walk. You tip your head up to look at him. “That scares the hell out of me.”

“That you like a person more than work? Most people would call that normal, babe,” you tell him with a laugh, trying to make him feel better. 

He looks down at you, a flash of surprise across his face and then he laughs. “Maybe. Maybe I just haven’t been normal in so long that normal is the new weird for me.” 

“I think it’s high time we fix that, don’t you?” you wrap your arms around his waist and he hugs you to him. 

“Definitely.” he opens the door to your apartment building for you, following you up to your floor. Not once does he let go of your hand, and no matter what you tell your sister, you know you’re in deep; and that spells trouble for you if anyone were to find out. 

He lingers outside your door as you search for your keys in your purse. “You need a clip,” he says and you look up at him, confused. “For your keys, to hook them on the strap of your purse so they’re right there.  That way, you don’t have to stand outside your apartment like a lunatic.” he grins impishly. Your mouth slowly falls open in indignation. 

“I am not a lunatic.” you nudge his rubs and he just grins wider. 

“If you insist.” 

You finally find your keys and he takes them out of your hand. “James.” you protest and he sighs slightly, eyes closing, but it certainly doesn’t strike you as annoyed or impatient. 

“I never really liked going by James, but I’d be willing to make an exception if you’re the one saying it.” he takes a step closer and you roll your eyes. 

“Again, with the cheesy pickup lines?”

“Is it still a cheesy pickup line if it’s the truth?” Another step and you’re forced to take a step back or fall over.

“I think so. That’s the whole reason they become cheesy in the first place, isn’t it?”

“So, telling the truth is cheesy?” One more step and you’re pressing into your door. Suddenly your shirt feels too tight and the hallway is too small and he’s so big. He smells so good, like soft cologne and bread baking and outside. The smell of him swirls around your head, making you dizzy. And he looks so perfect, just standing there, holding your keys to your apartment, towering over you and suddenly you just want his mouth on yours. But you want him to make the first move, to take the lead. 

As he stands there, slowly driving you insane, you swear he knows what he’s doing to you. Your heart is pounding and your skin is so hot. He better kiss you soon or you’re going to lose the little self-control you have and it won’t be pretty or graceful. 

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he says, handing your keys back to you, his mouth twitching at the corners. He turns, leaving you standing there with your mouth open, breathless and anxious. You wait it out for a full minute, thinking he was surely going to come back and kiss you goodnight, but he didn’t reappear at the top of the stairs. You ram your key into the lock and rush into your apartment. Yanking back the curtains, you look out into the street, seeing him grinning up at your window. You throw open the pane and stick your head out. 

“You vlákas!” you shout and he cackles, taking a step back. 

“Sweet dreams!” he calls with an infuriatingly attractive wink. You watch him walk away, both furious at him and wildly attracted to him. 

Your eyes catch a movement across the street and you look over. There’s a man standing there in the alleyway, half hidden in the dark. You can’t make out much of his features, save that he’s looking straight at you, a smirk playing at his lips. You gasp and duck back inside, smacking your head on the wooden frame as you move. 

“Styx!” you curse, rubbing the back of your head. You shut the window, pull the curtains closed and hurry to lock your front door. The man in the alley has unnerved you. 

What’s worse is that when you closed your blinds, you were certain he was staring after Bucky. 

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@everythingisoverrated @thefridgeismybestie @dsakita @part-time-patronus @i-dont-want-to-be-called @ellaenchanted91 

my shot | amaranthine (2/10) | b.b.

summary: I’ve loved you since Austria. I think I might’ve fallen long before then. It’s when I see you that I start to recognize parts of myself I thought I’d lost.

WARNINGS: swearing, mentions of war, torture and blood, fluff kinda, and angst :)  pairing: bucky barnes x reader word count: 5.9k

a/n: conceived as part 2 of a series dedicated to @the-omni-princess​. this chapter’s song title is my shot from the hamilton soundtrack. enjoy :)

amaranthine masterlist

I imagine death so much it feels more like a memory When’s it gonna get me? In my sleep? Seven feet ahead of me? If I see it comin’, do I run or do I let it be? Is it like a beat without a melody?

You lean into your knees, fingers brushing over the streak of charcoal. Your name is Bucky’s print causes your heart to flutter, but the words that follow it make you hollow with dread.

Don’t read until I get back.

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Half in Half (3/?)

Prompt: One half light, the other dark. Divided by your differences, your brother went from your other half to the man who killed your father. You once refused to lose hope, refused to let Ben go. With walls built around yourself, can Poe break them down?

Based off of: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy. Pairing: Poe Dameron x Solo!Reader Other parts: Force Awakens: one - two - three - four - five Last Jedi: one - two

Send me a little comment in the ask section or leave it below on what you thought of this chapter. As usual, I hope you all enjoyed!

Please don’t plagiarize my work!

“I’m fine.”

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