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"You must've lost yo d_mn mind."

Teaser

"Babe? You serious?"

"No?"

"You serious!!?"

".....Yes."

"Look at me right now, and tell me the truth."

"Did you really?"

"...Yes baby, it's too late."

"Jackman Thomas Harlow, you must've lost yo damn mind!"

"I did."

✨Teaser ✨

MENTALITY OF THE HEART [ AN ORIGINAL FICTION]

Original Characters [WMBW ORIGINAL ROMANCE FICTION]

Rating: 16+

Author: Lynnetty L. Mubanga (AKA Lee (me🤭) )

#MATERIALIST

SYNOPSIS: Alice Monroe, At the age of 25, found herself working at the largest psychiatric hospital in the city, where her skills and dedication were highly valued.

Despite her young age, she had earned the respect of her colleagues for her professionalism and unwavering commitment to her patients. However, not everyone was quick to acknowledge her talents. Some older male colleagues dismissed her as inexperienced, while women of all ages admired her for breaking barriers in a male-dominated field.

Though she exuded confidence and competence in her professional life, Alice's personal life was a stark contrast. With a bubbly personality and a caring nature, she often found herself struggling to maintain boundaries with her patients, especially those who appealed to her maternal instincts. This had earned her the nickname "Mother Nature" among her friends, a label she wore with a mixture of pride and exasperation.

On the other side of the spectrum was Alexander Dante Bianchi, a 29-year-old Italian billionaire known for his ruthless business tactics and his irresistible charm. Women swooned over him, while men envied his power and charisma.

Despite his outward image of success and confidence, Alexander harbored a dark secret that threatened to unravel his carefully constructed facade. He battled with a severe mental disorder that he kept hidden from the world, fearing the repercussions of revealing his vulnerability.

When fate brought Alice and Alexander together, it was a collision of two worlds that could not have been more different. As his newly appointed personal psychiatrist.

Despite their differences, they found themselves drawn to each other in ways they could not explain. The line between professional duty and personal temptation began to blur, leading them down a path they never expected.

Would they succumb to the fire burning between them, or would they resist the inevitable pull of their hearts?

~

PLEASE READ!!

Hey lovely readers,

I'm excited to share with you one of my original stories and I really hope you enjoy it.

Before we dive in, there are a few things I want to make clear. This story is the result of my hard work and creativity, so I kindly ask you not to translate, plagiarize, or copy my work in any form.

⚠️ WARNING ⚠️

This book contains some disturbing scenes, especially those related to mental health. Please read with caution and take care of yourself while navigating through these parts of the story.

Just a heads up, this story falls under the genre of dark romance, and the male main character is depicted with various mental health conditions. I want to emphasize that I do not romanticize or glamourize individuals dealing with mental health issues. The portrayal of these conditions in the character is meant to raise awareness about mental health struggles. It's a topic that often goes undiscussed, and those facing mental health challenges are sometimes overlooked or misunderstood because they may not always express their feelings openly.

Additionally, more content warnings for this story include mentions of violence, blood, revenge, manipulation, child trauma, and abuse, among others.

I truly appreciate you taking the time to read my work. It means a lot to me, and I genuinely hope that you find some enjoyment and maybe even some thought-provoking moments within these pages. 😊

Thank you for being here and for being open to exploring this story with me. Your support and understanding are valued more than words can express. Enjoy the journey ahead!

MENTALITY OF THE HEART [ An ORIGINAL FICTION]

Original Characters [WMBW ORIGINAL ROMANCE FICTION]

Rating: 16+

Author: Lynnetty L. Mubanga (AKA Lee (me🤭) )

#MATERIALIST

SYNOPSIS: Alice Monroe, At the age of 25, found herself working at the largest psychiatric hospital in the city, where her skills and dedication were highly valued.

Despite her young age, she had earned the respect of her colleagues for her professionalism and unwavering commitment to her patients. However, not everyone was quick to acknowledge her talents. Some older male colleagues dismissed her as inexperienced, while women of all ages admired her for breaking barriers in a male-dominated field.

Though she exuded confidence and competence in her professional life, Alice's personal life was a stark contrast. With a bubbly personality and a caring nature, she often found herself struggling to maintain boundaries with her patients, especially those who appealed to her maternal instincts. This had earned her the nickname "Mother Nature" among her friends, a label she wore with a mixture of pride and exasperation.

On the other side of the spectrum was Alexander Dante Bianchi, a 29-year-old Italian billionaire known for his ruthless business tactics and his irresistible charm. Women swooned over him, while men envied his power and charisma.

Despite his outward image of success and confidence, Alexander harbored a dark secret that threatened to unravel his carefully constructed facade. He battled with a severe mental disorder that he kept hidden from the world, fearing the repercussions of revealing his vulnerability.

When fate brought Alice and Alexander together, it was a collision of two worlds that could not have been more different. As his newly appointed personal psychiatrist.

Despite their differences, they found themselves drawn to each other in ways they could not explain. The line between professional duty and personal temptation began to blur, leading them down a path they never expected.

Would they succumb to the fire burning between them, or would they resist the inevitable pull of their hearts?

CHAPTER WARNING SYMBOLS⤵️

♠︎\♤= Disturbing Trigger Content\ Mild Trigger Content

♥︎\♡= Smut\ Mild Smut

◆\◇= Extreme Violence\ Mild Violence (Anything that leads to such)

♣︎\♧= Little To No Warnings\ No Warnings (Safe)

♠︎INDEX♠︎

INTRODUCTION

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHANGER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

More to come...

MENTALITY OF THE HEART [ An ORIGINAL FICTION] ♣︎

Original Characters [WMBW ORIGINAL ROMANCE FICTION]

Rating: 16+

Author: Lynnetty L. Mubanga (AKA Lee (me🤭) )

SYNOPSIS: Alice Monroe, At the age of 24, found herself working at the largest psychiatric hospital in the city, where her skills and dedication were highly valued.

Despite her young age, she had earned the respect of her colleagues for her professionalism and unwavering commitment to her patients. However, not everyone was quick to acknowledge her talents. Some older male colleagues dismissed her as inexperienced, while women of all ages admired her for breaking barriers in a male-dominated field.

Though she exuded confidence and competence in her professional life, Alice's personal life was a stark contrast. With a bubbly personality and a caring nature, she often found herself struggling to maintain boundaries with her patients, especially those who appealed to her maternal instincts. This had earned her the nickname "goody-two-shoes" among her friends, a label she wore with a mixture of pride and exasperation.

On the other side of the spectrum was Alexander Dante Bianchi, a 26-year-old Italian billionaire known for his ruthless business tactics and his irresistible charm. Women swooned over him, while men envied his power and charisma.

Despite his outward image of success and confidence, Alexander harbored a dark secret that threatened to unravel his carefully constructed facade. He battled with a severe mental disorder that he kept hidden from the world, fearing the repercussions of revealing his vulnerability.

When fate brought Alice and Alexander together, it was a collision of two worlds that could not have been more different. As his newly appointed personal psychiatrist.

Despite their differences, they found themselves drawn to each other in ways they could not explain. The line between professional duty and personal temptation began to blur, leading them down a path they never expected.

Would they succumb to the fire burning between them, or would they resist the inevitable pull of their hearts?

WARNING: Mentions of mental conditions, tr

Chapter Warning: Slight trigger content.

《CONTENT》 《Series Materialist》 《Next》

Authors POV

In the sprawling metropolis of London, beneath the twinkling night sky, a picturesque scene unfolds on a grassy hilltop. Two figures find solace in each other's arms, their bodies entwined, as they surrender to the serenity of the moment.

The wind whispers gently through the air, carrying with it a sense of profound tranquility. Their eyes, brimming with a love that defies ordinary expression, convey emotions far deeper than words could ever capture.

Their story, however, is anything but ordinary. It is a tale woven with the threads of happenstance and destiny, as they met in the most unconventional manner. It was not a chance encounter amidst a bustling café or a shared glance across a crowded room. Instead, their paths intersected on a fateful day, one filled with unforeseen obstacles and unexpected twists.

Their relationship blossomed amidst this unconventional backdrop, and with every passing day, the complexity of their connection grew. They treaded through the delicate terrain of love, knowing that their future hinged on the choices they made and the paths they ventured upon.

It was not a straightforward journey, devoid of challenges or uncertainties, but rather a labyrinth where every move could potentially lead to either bliss or heartache.

Yet, despite the inherent complexity of their circumstances, they remained resolute in their commitment to one another. They understood that the road ahead would demand unwavering dedication, for their love was no ordinary love.

It was built on a foundation of trust, forged through trials and tribulations that only strengthened the bonds they shared. They were not content to simply succumb to the whims of fate; instead, they actively shaped their own destinies.

Each decision they made was weighted with immense significance. They treaded carefully, aware that a single misstep could mean the difference between eternal happiness and profound misery.

Their love was too precious to be left to chance or caprice. And so, they navigated the complexities of their lives with an astute awareness, keeping their eyes firmly fixed upon the future they so ardently desired.

As they sat atop the grassy hill, their gazes lingered on the illuminated city below. They allowed themselves a moment of calm amidst the chaos of life, finding solace in the beauty surrounding them.

The starry sky served as a reminder that even in the vast expanse of the universe, their love was unique, profound, and worth fighting for.

In that peaceful silence, with the wind as witness, they knew that their journey would be arduous, but ultimately worthwhile. Their love had weathered storms and soared amidst adversity, and with each passing day, their hearts grew stronger.

Together, they would continue to navigate the labyrinth, making the right moves, and defying the odds. For in each other's arms, they found solace, passion, and a love that would endure for all eternity.

~Two Years Earlier ~

Alice sat calmly in her chair, her gaze soft and understanding as she listened intently to her patient's recount of their troubling experiences. The patient, a young individual with a fragile demeanor, hesitantly began detailing the horrifying nightmares that had been plaguing their sleep.

As the patient spoke shakily, describing the dark room, eerie voices, and the daunting figure that haunted their dreams, Alice felt a pang of empathy for the suffering that her patient had endured. The vivid description painted a picture of sheer terror and helplessness that left a lingering sense of unease in the room.

The patient's voice quivered as they continued, revealing the physical manifestations of the nightmares - the sensation of being choked, thrown against walls, and the overwhelming terror that felt all too real. Alice could see the genuine fear etched on their face and the desperation in their eyes as they pleaded for help.

With a gentle nod, Alice urged the patient to share more about the origins of these haunting dreams. As the patient hesitatingly recounted the tragic events of their parents' brutal murder on their sixteenth birthday, tears streamed down their face, each word weighed down by the unbearable pain and sorrow they carried.

Listening to the heartbreaking account of loss and trauma, Alice felt a surge of compassion and sorrow for her patient. To witness the devastating impact of such a traumatic experience on a young soul was a heavy burden to bear, and she felt a deep-seated urge to offer comfort and support to help them navigate through the torment that reverberated through their nightmares.

In that moment, the doctor's professional facade crumbled, revealing a compassionate heart that ached for the struggles of her patient. She knew all too well the profound impact of unresolved trauma and the intricate complexities of the human mind.

As the patient's tears flowed freely, Alice extended a comforting hand, a silent gesture of solidarity and reassurance in the face of overwhelming pain.

She understood the gravity of the healing journey ahead and the importance of providing a safe space for her patient to confront their inner demons and find solace amidst the shadows of their past.

In the realm of mental health, where battles are often fought in the depths of one's psyche, Alice held onto a glimmer of hope that with time, patience, and unwavering support, her patient could gradually reclaim their sense of peace and emerge from the darkness into the light of healing.

The young psychiatrist had always been fascinated by the complexities of the human mind. It was this curiosity that led her to pursue a career in psychiatry. However, her passion for understanding mental health took a profound turn when she witnessed a heartbreaking event that changed her life forever.

The incident involved a young autistic boy who had been a victim of relentless bullying. Overwhelmed by the cruelty he faced, he tragically decided to end his own life.

The psychiatrist, who had formed a bond with the boy and was his only source of support, was left devastated by the loss. She was haunted by the thought that she could have done more to prevent the tragedy.

The experience fueled her determination to advocate for individuals with disabilities and mental health challenges. She firmly believed that everyone deserved compassion and understanding, regardless of their struggles. Her mission was to provide a safe and supportive environment for those who felt marginalized or misunderstood.

Putting her professionalism aside, she reached out to comfort a distressed patient during a therapy session. The patient, grappling with feelings of madness and trauma, found solace in the psychiatrist's reassuring words.

The psychiatrist assured her patient that experiencing post-traumatic stress disorder and schizophrenia did not define their sanity. She offered unwavering support and empathy, emphasizing that healing and recovery were possible with time and effort.

After the emotional session with her patient, the psychiatrist was summoned by the hospital director for an urgent discussion. As she prepared to address the pressing issue, her mind was already racing with thoughts of how she could continue making a positive impact in the lives of those struggling with mental health challenges.

Despite the emotional toll of her work, the psychiatrist remained steadfast in her dedication to promoting mental well-being and advocating for those in need. She knew that her calling went beyond just treating symptoms – it was about restoring hope, dignity, and resilience in every individual she encountered.

After her intense session with her patient, Dr. Monroe was called into the director's office for an urgent matter. Curiosity and a hint of nervousness gnawed at her as she hurried to the meeting. So, when she was greeted by the sight of a mysterious man seated in the office along with Mr. Brown, her heart skipped a beat.

"Ah, there you are. Please, have a seat, Dr. Reynolds," Mr. Brown's voice was composed, but there seemed to be an underlying tension in the room.

As she made her way to the chair, she couldn't shake off the feeling of being watched intently. Turning to face the man, she was taken aback by his striking appearance. His features were sharp, his gaze piercing, and his overall demeanor exuded an air of danger that both captivated and unnerved her.

His emerald green eyes seemed to penetrate her soul, while his perfectly groomed appearance hinted at a life of luxury and power. Draped in a sleek black Armani suit, with just the right amount of buttons undone, he exuded confidence and charm in equal measure.

Despite her professional demeanor, Alice couldn't help but feel a flicker of something unfamiliar stir within her at the sight of this enigmatic man. It was as if his presence alone demanded attention and respect, drawing her in even as it set off warning bells in her mind.

Unnerved by the intensity of his gaze, she quickly averted her eyes, feeling the sly smirk playing on his lips. It was a subtle gesture, yet it sent a shiver down her spine, reminding her of the hidden depths lurking beneath his alluring facade.

"Miss Monroe, I would like you to meet Mr. Alexander Dante Bianchi," Mr. Brown's introduction snapped her out of her reverie, pulling her attention back to the matter at hand.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Monroe," his voice, deep and tinged with a seductive Italian accent, rang out as he extended his hand for a handshake. The touch of his hand sent a jolt of electricity through her, leaving her momentarily flustered and off-balance.

"A pleasure to meet you too" she said, her voice coming out a little shaky.

Mr. Brown cleared his throat, his expression serious as he motioned for Alice to take a seat. Alice couldn't help but feel a sense of intrigue mixed with a hint of anxiety as she waited for him to reveal the reason for summoning her.

"Alright, here's the deal," Mr. Brown began, his voice tinged with urgency. "I have a highly sensitive task that I need your help with, and it's crucial that you keep it strictly confidential. This is strictly between you and me, understood?"

Alice nodded, her curiosity piqued. She leaned in slightly, wondering what could be so important that Mr. Brown was emphasizing secrecy to such a degree.

"It's come to my attention that Mr. Bianchi is in need of a personal doctor," Mr. Brown continued, his gaze unwavering. "And after careful consideration, I believe you are the most suitable candidate for the job. Your track record speaks for itself, and I have full confidence in your abilities."

Surprise washed over Alice as she processed the gravity of the situation. Being handpicked as a personal doctor for someone as notable as Mr. Bianchi was an unexpected turn of events. She felt a mixture of excitement and apprehension at the prospect.

"I...I've never taken on such a role before," Alice stammered, her mind racing with uncertainties. "I'm not sure if I have the necessary experience for this."

Mr. Brown's expression softened, a reassuring smile playing on his lips. "Nonsense, Alice. You are more than capable. Your dedication and expertise make you the perfect candidate for this position. Trust me, you won't disappoint."

Feeling a surge of reassurance from Mr. Brown's words, Alice mustered her resolve. She knew that this opportunity was both a challenge and an honor, and she couldn't let doubt hold her back.

"Okay, if you believe in me, then I'll give it my best shot," Alice replied, her voice steady despite her lingering doubts.

"Excellent," Mr. Brown exclaimed, his approval evident. "I have every confidence in your abilities. I'll leave you to discuss the details with Mr. Bianchi. The contract has been prepared, and everything is in place. I must dash off to a meeting now, so I'll leave you to it."

With that, Mr. Brown made his exit, leaving Alice alone with the weight of her new responsibility settling in.

Alice's POV

I couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. The director had left me alone with a man I had never met before. All I knew was that there was something about him that set him apart from the ordinary. His presence exuded an air of mystery and power that made me nervous.

Lost in my thoughts, I didn't realize he had approached me until I felt his body close behind mine. The warmth of his breath on my neck sent shivers down my spine. His voice, low and almost menacing, called out my name.

"Ms. Monroe," he said, his words tinged with a hint of a growl.

My heart raced as I nervously responded, "Uh-uhm y-yes?"

He leaned closer, his proximity making me feel both exhilarated and terrified. "Can we discuss the contract?" he asked, his voice sending a wave of electricity through me.

I struggled to regain my composure, reminding myself that I was a professional. "Oh– uh sure," I managed to reply, my voice barely above a whisper.

He finally stepped back, retreating to his seat, but the intensity of his gaze lingered in the air between us. I couldn't shake off the feeling that there was more to him than met the eye. As we delved into the details of the contract, I found myself drawn to his enigmatic presence, eager to unravel the secrets he held.

As he turned to face me, the air filled with tension. His piercing gaze met mine as he handed over the thick contract, his fingers brushing against mine ever so slightly. The weight of the situation settled in as I realized the gravity of what was being presented to me.

"Okay, let's get back to business," he began, his voice steady but commanding. "This is the contract. You can read through it while I guide you." Each word seemed to hang in the air, the silence amplifying the pressure on me to understand the terms laid out before me.

His next words cut through the stillness like a knife. "Firstly, you swear to never tell anyone about this arrangement. And also never tell anyone you know me. Do you understand?" The seriousness in his tone was unmistakable, and I nodded in silent agreement, a knot forming in my stomach.

"Good," he continued, his eyes never leaving mine. "Secondly, you are my personal doctor. Which means you are only allowed to attend to me and only me." The exclusivity of his demand left me feeling both trapped and conflicted, but I knew there was more to come.

"Thirdly," he went on, his voice unwavering, "you will have to be around me twenty-four seven in case I start to slip." The weight of his words hung heavy in the air, the implications sinking in with each passing moment.

"And fourthly," he began, his tone shifting slightly as he reached the next point, "you are to move to my house—" Before he could finish his sentence, my own voice cut him off, a tinge of defiance creeping into my tone.

"Wait a minute," I interjected, unable to conceal my disbelief. "Move in with you? Why should I do that?" The prospect of uprooting my life in such a drastic way was overwhelming, and I couldn't fathom the reasoning behind such a demand.

"You have no choice," he responded calmly, his words hanging in the air like a final verdict. "It's either you move in or I sue you. You already know way too much, so you've got to make a choice." Despite the façade of calmness he maintained, I could sense the underlying threat in his words, a stark reminder of the power he held in this situation.

"But that's not fair!" I exclaimed, abruptly standing up as my annoyance took over.

In response, the man before me didn't seem phased by my outburst. Instead, he responded with a chilling calmness that sent shivers down my spine. "I would appreciate it if you would not speak to me like that. You wouldn't like what I'd do to you," he warned, his words laced with a hint of threat. "So sit your pretty little ass down and listen like the good girl you are," he added, a slight smirk playing on his lips.

Feeling a mix of fear and uncertainty, I slowly sank back into my seat, realizing the seriousness of the situation. This man's demeanor and the underlying implications of his words made it clear that he was not to be trifled with. I couldn't afford to test his boundaries, not knowing what he was truly capable of. My usual stubbornness and boldness suddenly felt like dangerous traits, ones that could lead me into irreversible trouble.

"And besides, it's not like we are going to share a bed, so you can relax yourself," he continued, his tone mixing a strange sense of casualness with an underlying tension. "Oh, and yes, you will get off days, but that doesn't mean you have to slack off. Always be alert. I can't promise when I'd split again; it can even be now. So don't slack off. I trust you on this," he concluded, handing me a pen along with the papers that needed my signature.

As I hesitantly took the pen, my hand trembled slightly. The weight of the situation settled heavily on my shoulders as I realized the gravity of the decision before me. With a shaky hand, I signed the papers, sealing a deal that would bind me to this mysterious and somewhat intimidating man.

As I stood there, watching him leave the room, a sense of unease crept over me. His firm handshake and lingering smirk left me feeling unsettled. The details of the arrangement replayed in my mind - starting work next Monday, his number on the contract, and the suggestion that packing may not be necessary.

I couldn't shake off the feeling of uncertainty that lingered. What kind of work environment was I about to step into? Would I be prepared for whatever awaited me next week? Questions flooded my mind, and I began to doubt my decision to accept the job offer.

Despite my reservations, there was a small glimmer of excitement at the prospect of a new opportunity. I took a deep breath, trying to push aside my concerns and focus on the potential for growth and challenge that this new role could bring.

As I gathered my thoughts, I couldn't help but wonder: What have I really got myself into?

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•••°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Hey there!

I'm so excited to finally share my original fiction with all of you! This is the first chapter, and I really hope you enjoy it. I can't wait to hear what you have to say about it!

Please don't hesitate to share your thoughts with me. Feedback is always welcome, whether it's positive or constructive criticism. Your opinions mean a lot to me, and I value each and every one of them.

Also, the taglist is open, so if you'd like to be added to it to make sure you don't miss any updates, just let me know! I want to make sure everyone who's interested in my work can stay in the loop.

I want to give you a heads up that I don't have fixed update schedules. I have a lot of things going on and need to organize and adjust my time accordingly. So, expect random updates at any time. I know it's not very author-like, but I promise I'll make it up to you with the quality of the chapters I release.

Thank you so much for taking the time to read my work. Your support means the world to me.

Your quirky author here ❤️🤗

TAGLIST: @hush-hush-baby

𝐈𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐚 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧.

𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐱 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

        ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"Shit." You groaned, your arms giving out as your comb dropped to the floor. You were starting to regret training your arms today with Natasha because your head full of coils was all the workout you needed for the day. Grumbling in defeat, you sit on your bed, sprawling your aching body across your bedspread.

You'd been a part of the avengers for three years now. Ever since you went viral on social media for stopping a band of thieves— burning their faces with your bare hands. It took five minutes of convincing before you found yourself inside of avengers tower, making your way around.

Now here you were, three years later, struggling to put your hair in some damn plaits. "Alright, round two," you muttered. This hair was not going to get the best of you, again.

A small knock formed on your bedroom door, taking your attention away from your reflection in the mirror. "Hey," Steve smiled, his hands resting in his pockets as he leaned against your door frame.

"Hey," you smiled back, waving him in and motioning for him to take a seat in your hammock.

Steve couldn't help but stare.

He loved your hair and appreciated the time and creativity you put into it.

Those nights after missions where everyone sat around unwinding, and you disappeared—swearing you had a hair 'crisis to attend to.

He wished he could follow you those nights, watch what it took to style your hair.

And now he was finally getting front row tickets.

"What's going on, Stevie?" you asked, taking another swipe of grease to your scalp. The super soldiers piercing blue eyes watching your pattern intensely. He almost forgot to respond.

Liquid, grease, and of course, the hibiscus leave-in he enjoyed the smell of.

When you'd fly past him on missions—it's all he'd smell for the rest of the night.

"Stevie?" You smile softly, your arms shaking as you finish your first plait. His eyes fluttered from your workstation to your brown eyes as you looked back at him over your shoulders. "I...I'm just checking in on you. Doing my rounds." You chuckled, looking back at yourself in the mirror. "I guess you could say I'm great, besides this." You tug at your excess hair. "Good," Steve said, standing and making his way over to you. His larger frame suddenly crowding the mirror.

It was no secret that you and Steve had something.

Some would call it chemistry.

Whether it was on the field.

Or right now.

When his hands grazed over your exposed shoulders, sending shutters down your spine. His nose practically dug into your hair.

"Can I ask you something, doll?" Steve took a deep breath, inhaling your scent some more. "Hm?" you hummed making another part. Steve took the liberty of taking the comb from your hands. His fingertips grazing over yours as he did. "Can I help you braid your hair?." He said meekly, his voice had a nervous tremor. You snicker, looking him up and down. “Are you sure?” Steve beamed, shaking his head up and down vigorously. “Yes.”

Smiling, you took his hand. Placing him on your bed while you slipped between his legs on the floor. “Alright, now just as I did, make a part as straight and even as you can.” You instructed him.

Although Steve was a captain and was good with orders, he just couldn’t seem to get it right.

There was a lot of tugging.

And re-doing braids.

“Ouch!”

“Sorry, doll.”

“Okay, maybe I should—.”

“No, please let me try again.”

But eventually, he got the hang of it. And unknowingly you had fallen asleep in between the super soldiers' legs. Using the inside of his knee as a pillow.

You woke up to soft stroking on your cheek. “Doll, I’m all done. I think.” He snickered. Shifting awake you quickly ran to the mirror, a huge smile growing on your face. “Oh, Stevie. I love it.” You laughed, throwing your arms around his neck. Instinctively he wrapped his arms around your waist pulling you in. “Not too bad for the first time, huh?”

You smirked, placing a kiss on his cheek. Watching the old man's face grow red. “No, not bad at all.” You giggled, turning your head from side to side, viewing the beautiful plaits he had done for you.

Every day after that Steve begged to do your hair or at least watch.

It got so bad you let him help you on wash day.

You could say Steve became your helper, taking the stress off your shoulders.

You’d be lying if you say you didn’t like it.

confession. I have this whole story I’ve been writing and working on featuring Bucky barnes and a fleshed out O/c; my opinion of course. Nevertheless, I’ve been uploading on wattpad and I’m not getting the response that’s motivating me to keep going. Should I post on here? It’s Bucky barnes x black o/c.

Their ship dynamic is to the right btw.

"𝐁𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐋𝐢𝐞𝐬" 𝐁.𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄: 𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆

001

Series warnings: for mature audiences (18+). Includes mentions of death/murders in graphic detail, leg closing NSFW sex (eventually), slow-burn. Also overall angst and fluff!

Series summary: Peyton thought she had everything she wanted. She had a family, were they complicated—no doubt. Not to mention a cafe struggling on its own two feet. But for Peyton, that was more than enough. Insert Bucky Barnes, the mysterious man from her cafe. The more she begins to pull back the layers of the elusive Bucky Barnes, the more the facade of a full heart begins to fade and craves to be filled by his presents. All the while Bucky's own guilt consumes him—seemingly only being cured by his bed of lies.

Peyton noticed him; hell, how could she not. The cafe wasn't big at all. In fact, it was the exact opposite. With its six tables, including the bench outside, there was no hiding in the Beanie Bussiness Cafe. And the man who sat in the corner every day was no exception.

Often Bucky would watch Peyton or her mother, Adrianna, with his intense blue eyes, sending shutters down their spine. It had been the beginning of week three since he had started visiting them, and today Peyton had enough. She would talk to him, confront him if she had to.

Peyton burst through the kitchen doors, wiping her wet hands off on her worn-down lemon print apron. "Charlie, I'm gonna do it," Peyton blurted.

"Do what, exactly?" Charlie muttered, her striking green eyes never leaving the fresh cinnamon roll she was icing.

"Confront him.' Peyton said, taking a sip of her hours-old coffee. "Confront blue eyes, I mean."

Charli snickered, brushing a loose piece of her blonde hair behind her ear. "Is that what we're calling him now?" She asked, pushing her iced cinnamon rolls into the warmer.

Peyton rested her arms on the flour-dusted counter. "I've always called him that—besides, have you got any better names?"

"Hm. Touché," said Charlie, glancing over her shoulder.

"Great, now give me a cinnamon roll." Peyton grinned, her palm covered by a plate that she held out in front of Charlie.

"I think you can ask a bit nicer," Charlie smirked, dancing around Peyton with the cinnamon roll clasped between a pair of tongs.

Peyton took in a deep breath, inhaling the scent of the baked goods that surrounded her. "Charlie, may I please have the cinnamon roll that you are holding hostage from my clutches so that I can give it to the strange man who sits in my cafe every day." She asked in a robotic tone.

Charlie dropped the cinnamon roll onto Peytons plate, tilting her head to the side. "Fine—but we're working on your manners, young lady!" She shouted, pointing at Peyton with the pair of tongs she held.

"Pff. I have manners! So many that I think it could be my superhero name." Peyton boasted, as she faced Charlie while walking backwards.

"We aren't the avengers, Pea," Charlie said.

Peyton paused, her lips pulling tightly together. "I know—because if we were, we would have never blipped for five years, and my business wouldn't have gone to shit." Peyton said. She used her green manicured nails to push open the kitchens swinging doors, walking the peace offering over to table number ten.

Finishing her strut to the table, Peyton smiled down awkwardly at Bucky, who sat sipping his freshly roasted black coffee. No sugar, no cream—just coffee. She cleared her throat in an attempt to get his attention. She wanted him to look at her the way he did so many times when he believed she hadn't noticed.

Eventually, he did. Slowly, Bucky lifted his eyes to see Peyton holding a fresh cinnamon roll in front of him. Bucky shot her a stiff grin, one that looked almost painful to produce. He hadn't ordered the cinnamon roll, he never ordered anything but black coffee from the cafe, and he assumed Peyton knew that.

She was aware Bucky's only order was coffee. And in Peyton's opinion, Bucky had the easiest, and if she was honest, most basic order out of all of her regulars. So, of course, she knew he didn't order the cinnamon roll.

Bucky coughed, placing his mug down with his flesh hand. "I didn't order that." He stated.

"I know.' Peyton placed the plate down, scooting it in front of Bucky with the tips of her slim fingers. "I wanted to give it to you." She smiled.

Bucky's eyes nervously looked at the roll, then back at Peyton, who had found herself seated comfortably in the chair across from him. He stiffened as she watched him with her intense brown eyes. Her stare wasn't the worst he had ever seen. But it was so obvious it was physically painful to Bucky. 

"What are you doing?" Bucky said dryly.

Peyton leaned back into the chair, squinting her eyes at Bucky who sat before her. "What are you doing?" She asked back.

Bucky's eyebrows drew together as he took another slow sip of his coffee. He didn't know what she was implying, and he was nervous about finding out.

"I mean here.' Peyton's brown eyes grew wide as she slapped a hand over her mouth. "I'm sorry—not that you aren't welcome! What I mean is, I've never had a customer come in so often and never speak to anyone."

Bucky tried to respond, but the words were logged in his throat. All he could do was give Peyton his intense stare as it usually got people to leave him alone—but Peyton kept going.

"You see Mr. Jeffery?' Peyton shifted her gaze toward the older gentleman who sat reading an old book. "He comes in every day around the same time as you, maybe five minutes earlier. But he always speaks to us."

Peyton placed her hands onto the table, lifting out of her seat and leaning close to Bucky, causing him to shift back into his chair, uncomfortable with how close her nose was to his own.

"So I need to ask you two questions.' She glared. "Do you work for the Feds?"

"What? No." Bucky croaked, his eyes growing wide.

"Okay then.' Peyton sunk back into her seat. "So, are you stalking me?"

Bucky nearly choked on his coffee. He was coughing loudly while Peyton stared at him in distress. Bucky knew he looked peculiar sitting in the coffee shop each morning, not saying a word. And his approach to making amends was obscure, but Bucky was scared to reveal the truth—he'd be cruel to come in and ruin their happy lives.

Initially, Bucky had planned on slipping them a note and never returning. But when he saw how full of life they were, he couldn't. It felt wrong. So, he would settle for the stalker narrative—it felt better than the truth.

"No,' Bucky coughed once more. "I'm not—I should leave." He rapidly stood out of his chair as Peyton did the same, almost blocking him from leaving.

"No, I should leave you alone." Peyton ran her fingers through her hair, the tips getting stuck between her thick curls. "Please, sit.' She reassured, pointing to his seat. "The cinnamon roll is on the house. Tell me if you like it—it's our first batch of vegan rolls we're selling." She smiled, walking away backward, bumping into a table with her hip.

Bucky nodded, slowly sitting back down. His attention now focused on the warm roll sat in front of him, hesitantly he picked it up, turning it from side to side. It smelt marvelous, and before the cinnamon roll was placed in front of him, his stomach hadn't growled. But now, he was ravenous.

Bucky took one more sniff before taking a bite. His steel-blue eyes grew wide as the silky dough melted in his mouth like a marshmallow. He let out a low moan of satisfaction, it had been years since he had something so sweet, and he intended on savoring every bite.

From behind the display case, Peyton watched as Bucky devoured the cinnamon roll. She had a huge grin plastered on her face, mentally checking off talking to the man in the corner from her to-do list—not that she honestly had one.

She watched as Bucky stacked his plate and coffee mug neatly, pushing it to the edge of the table. Bucky would leave his coffee cup on the table on a typical day, with a generous tip tucked underneath it. It was thoughtful, and Peyton felt he was kind—or at least kind enough for her to bombard his space the way she just had. Peyton walked through the kitchen and into dry storage, where her mother stood. Pen and paper in hand, collecting inventory for the cafe.

"Momma, I did it." Peyton squealed, gripping her mother's shoulders, shaking them a bit.

Adrianna took Peyton's hands in hers, removing them from her shoulders. "Did what baby," She asked while counting the number of flour they had in stock.

"There's fifteen, by the way.' Peyton pointed to the flour."But I talked to blue-eyes."

"Thank you, darling." Adrianna jotted the number down and moved on, her eyes narrowing as she paused her stride. "Who?" She asked.

Peyton groaned, dramatically tossing herself onto the baking utensils behind her. "The man that always sits in the corner, remember him?" Peyton flayed her arms. "Oh, of course you do because he only sits there every day!" She exclaimed.

Adrianna glared at Peyton over her shoulder, not impressed with her daughter's tone. "Don't get smart. I might be pushing fifty, but I'll still give you a beat down." Adrianna threatened.

"Momma, you know I don't mean it like that. It's just, how am I the only one who notice him."

"Because you're a weirdo." Adrianna laughed. "But you're my weirdo, so it's okay." Giggling, she kissed her daughter's hairline, moving around her to finish inventory.

"Whatever," Peyton chuckled lightly. "I should be getting Mr. Jeffery his third round of matcha anyways." Peyton stalled, looking around her."Where is my coffee?"

"I threw it out!" Charlie shouted as she washed a pile of dishes.

"You did not!' Peyton marched over to Charlie. "Why I outta feed you to Alpine!" Peyton shouted, shaking a finger in Charlie's face.

Charlie smirked, biting Peyton's finger playfully. "That cat loves me." She said, releasing Peyton's finger from her mouth.

Peyton moved a curl out of her face raising her eyebrow cheekily at Charlie. "Seeing as he's my cat, I'm pretty sure he loves me."

"I think he loves him," Adrianna said, her head peeking out from the kitchen's swinging door.

"What?" Peyton frowned, walking over to her mother, standing on her tiptoes. "What the hell." She whispered.

There, she saw Alpine, her cat who was rubbing against Bucky, resting comfortably on his lap. But Bucky wasn't repulsed by Alpines friendly nature. Instead, he stroked Alpines white fur, only making the cat nuzzle into him more. From the kitchen, Peyton could see him whispering to Alpine— and of course, she couldn't hear what was said, but she was still curious.

"Oh man, what should I do?" Peyton paced, pinching the bridge of her nose.

Charlie, being the tallest, had no use for her tiptoes. She simply looked above Adrianna's head, getting a view of the action as Peyton paced back and forth behind them.

"Maybe go get your cat, just a thought." Said Charlie.

"Right," Peyton said, fluffing her hair a bit in the reflection of the window.

"What the hell are you doing?" Charlie laughed.

"Nothing," Peyton snapped back all too quickly.

Peyton walked out of the kitchen doors, slowly making her way to Bucky's table. Where Alpine rested on his shoulders, she thought of the ways she'd ask for her cat back. Maybe she could try "Hey, mister, can I have my cat back," or "May you please return my cat." It all sounded stupid, and before she knew it, Peyton found herself standing above Bucky once more.

"Hi," Peyton grinned, eyeballing Alpine.

"Hi," Bucky said, allowing Alpine to climb on his covered metal arm.

She watched as Alpine rolled over, swatting at his gloved hands. "He likes you." She chuckled.

Bucky began to pet Alpine once more. "Hm."

Peyton was taken back by his lack of words, not knowing what to say to him or if she'd get more than a three-word response in return.

"Do you have any pets?" Peyton blurted.

"No."

Peyton sighed, slipping into the same chair as she had done before. "Well, do you have a name?" Her voice had a nervous tremor as she played with her fingers.

"Bucky," He said, gently handing her Alpine while walking past.

Following him, she stuck out her hand for him to shake. "Well, I'm Peyton." but by then, Bucky was already halfway out the door.

Bucky nodded, shooting her a faint smile before shutting the door behind himself. Bucky knew her name—Bucky knew all their names. He had to because painfully, he remembered all of them. All of the victims who suffered at the hands of the Winter Soldier. Especially the innocent ones.

Walking down the crowded street, Bucky's phone began to buzz in his pocket. Taking it out, he flipped open the screen. He groaned aloud when he saw it was Sam trying to get in contact with him. Composing himself, he answered.

"Yeah," He said bleakly.

Back at the cafe, Peyton had Alpine cradled in her arms as she rocked him back and forth. She walked around to where Bucky once sat, she cleared his mug and plate from the table, placing them into the tub she had placed beside her. She picked up the daily tip Bucky left, putting it in her pocket. In the corner of her eye, Peyton watched as a tiny napkin fell to the floor. Placing Alpine down and letting him roam, she bent over and picked up the small napkin. Unfolding it, she read the one word written on it.

"Thanks."

How fitting, Peyton thought.

Smiling to herself and releasing a small laugh, she shoved the note into her pocket, feeling as if she had accomplished something for the day. All Peyton wanted to do was make those around her feel good—and most times, she achieved that with her baking. So knowing  Bucky enjoyed her first batch of vegan cinnamon rolls warmed her heart. After today she could officially put speaking to Bucky behind her.

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