#anyway. yes that non-threatening face is seared into my memory for all-time now. and I wanna cry about it. lol

[musicrunsthroughmysoul]

I didn't think I was going to get so emotional over this Big Country video/performance, but I did and it's...not pretty.

I'm not gonna post this video, but I actually watched it in spite of wondering why literally all of them are shirtless (not that I'm, uh...exactly complaining), and aside from that, when Stuart says "So when you're going [around?], going home tonight, to your nice, safe, warm cars, take a good look around you - there's a great, [brave? grave?! that beautiful accent befuddles me], big world out there, and all of us are responsible for it" he then gives...a smile. But it's an incredibly, deeply resigned (almost polite) smile. And it's going to haunt me for the rest of my days. I wish I was joking. It upsets me a lot, actually, because I believe from his facial expressions and everything (including a pause where it's clear he's not quite sure what he's going to say, but it seems like he's searching for something to say that will have an impact on the audience - which is part of why this is so painful) he's being sincere about his brief speech, but then he, like, very briefly moves his mouth away from the microphone (I think because he's fully gauging that he's about to not get any kind of reaction from the audience) and then moves his face again so his mouth is mostly hidden by the microphone and gives that resigned smile (those deep dimples!!!) which says...oh god, everything. To me, it says: "I know what I just said meant nothing to you all [or I would've had at least some reaction (from the audience)]," "Sorry for wasting your time," "Oh, how funny of me to think that any of you would catch that I'm calling you out on your privilege - my bad," and finally, "Hello EXISTENTIAL DREAD, MY OLD FRIEND". 😭 All of that plays on his face in that like not-even-two second span of a smile. And. Oh god. Yeah. I'm just gonna be...haunted. By it.

I don't say any of this at all negatively, by the way - I do not think less of him for that. But then again, I appreciate when my favorite artists give little, like...motivational speeches and stuff at their concerts, actually, because no matter what anyone else thinks, THEY'RE PRETTY MUCH ALWAYS RELEVANT. Stuart's speech was relevant because of what "Rockin' In The Free World" is about! I mean, okay, maybe it was a bit redundant because, with a song like "Rockin' In The Free World," we get it. It's presented very plainly, lyrically, why it was written - what its intent is. BUT, he still makes a good and not-quite-as-strongly-implied-by-the-song point about privilege WHICH, TO SAY AT A CONCERT, IS KINDA BALLSY, NOT GONNA LIE! And clearly it didn't go over with that audience, but does that mean he just shouldn't try at all? So I do think he had reasonable motive (that was actually not totally unnecessary) for saying his spiel. I give him props for trying to give people something to think about, even if they're not going to think about it while they're at a rock concert, lmao...still! Why not take the risk?

Anyway. I don't know if his face there is going to haunt me because of the audience, or because it's like...my empathy just went, "Oh fucking SHIT that hurts, ahaha"...because I can imagine it being both.

[seanfalco]

(More Than Just) Travel Partners - Part III

Fandom: The Witcher Pairing: Jaskier x f!Reader Word Count: 3.1k Rating: M (for now, will ramp up to E in later parts) Warning(s): Implied past assault/non-con a/n: okay so, I promise this is a reader insert.  There is a plot relevant reason why the reader is introduced with a name, you just have to find out why.  :3 Oooh we’re getting closer to the climax if you know what i mean

[ Masterlist ]

——

Almost two months.

Almost two months now spent on the road with Jaskier and though you felt happier than you had in living memory, every day that passed it became that much harder to keep the truth from him.  

The truth about what you were running from, the terrors that haunted your dreams.

The truth about your identity -- if only to hear him call you by your real name and not the latest alias you’d had to adopt.

By now you knew he would want to help you in any way he could… if he knew.

If you let him.

And you wanted so badly to let yourself trust him.  To let him in.

You often found yourself wondering just how much he’d managed to guess at on his own.  He wasn’t an idiot, no matter how some people tried to paint him as one.  He was sharp.  He noticed things.

So what had he noticed about you?

Chewing your lip as these troubling thoughts circled your head and churned your stomach you barely noticed that Jaskier had stopped singing, his hand going still on his lute, and had asked you a question; Swift still plowing along stolidly beneath you.

“Aev?” he repeated, glancing over his shoulder at you; the adorable flower crown you’d made for him earlier still perched jauntily on his head.

“Hmm?” you hummed, jarred from your dark thoughts.

“What do you think about that line?  Too much, right?” he asked, pulling a face.

“Which line?”

“Only the one I’ve been agonizing over for the last half hour,” he sighed.  “Haven’t you been listening?”

You grimaced as you answered truthfully.  “I’m sorry.  I kinda got lost in thought... and wasn’t paying attention.”

You waited for him to crack a joke or tease you about spacing out, but were met with silence.  “You know… if something’s troubling you, I’m always here to listen.”

The worry that laced his voice tore your gaze to him and upon glimpsing the serious set to his face white hot guilt seared through you and you felt sick.  In that moment it took all your willpower to keep from spilling every secret you’d been carrying.  

The temptation to share your burdens with someone else nearly out won your better senses, but by the time you’d taken a deep breath you had it under control once more.  You couldn’t burden Jaskier with this.  It was already enough that your very presence could potentially put him in danger as well.

“It’s nothing important, really.  Just got caught up thinking about the past.”

You were surprised at how even your voice sounded and Jaskier caught your eye over his shoulder, studying you for a moment before he nodded.

“Alright, well, my offer still stands anytime.  I know it might not seem like it, but I am a good listener,” he said, his usual grin slowly returning, “and an even better shoulder to cry on.”

The smile that tugged on your lips in return wasn’t forced and you huffed a small laugh.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”  

The mood back to normal, you gave Jaskier your full attention.  “Okay, so what’s this lyric you’re stuck on?”

——

Not less than an hour later the imposing walls of Tretogor loomed ahead and you firmly tamped down the flutter of worry that was attempting to worm its way back into your gut.  Cities were dangerous for more than one reason, and a capital even more so, but Jaskier had asked for this destination specifically, and you couldn’t say no.

“So where is this friend you need to meet?”  You asked as Jaskier helped you down from Swift’s back.

“Well, he’s less of a friend and more of a uhhh, friendly rival,” he explained, adjusting the strap of his lute case over his shoulder.

“So he’s another bard?”  You asked, raising a brow.

“Well, yes.  He usually hangs around the tavern, the Radiant Rooster, but you don’t wanna go there,” he quickly added, frowning slightly.

“Are you trying to get rid of me, Jaskier?” you asked, half teasing, unsure what to make of the fact that didn’t seem to want you to accompany him.

His blue eyes widened.  “Noononono, that’s not it,” he was swift to assure, raising his hands defensively.  “It’s just… how do I put this nicely?  He’s kind of a dick.  And I didn’t want—”, he sighed, cutting off, his eyes flitting away anxiously, not quite meeting yours.  

“Didn’t want what?” you prompted taking a step closer and tilting your head to catch his gaze.

Taking a deep breath he met your eyes.  “I know how he can be with women, and I didn’t -- I don’t want him to hit on you.”

“Oh.”  You couldn’t seem to form any other words for a moment and Jaskier flushed endearingly.  “That’s… that’s very sweet of you Jaskier, but you know I can handle myself.”

“I know that,” he replied sheepishly.  “To be honest, it’s more for my benefit than yours.”

“Oh.”  

Now it was your turn to flush and look away.  “Alright then,” you said, deciding to cut him some slack and honor his wishes, “I’ll go check out the market while you’re at the Radiant Rooster and I’ll... meet you in about an hour?”

Jaskier sighed with relief and handed you Swift’s reins.

“Perfect!  I won’t be long!”

“Oh, wait!,” you called, lunging forward to grasp the cuff of his doublet before he took off.

“What is it?”  Jaskier spun back around to face you, his eyes briefly flicking to your hand at his wrist.

“You, uhm, you’re still wearing the flower crown,” you explained, pointing to his head while trying to hide your grin.

Glancing upward Jaskier grimaced, reaching up to delicately remove the chain of daisies and buttercups you’d weaved for him earlier.  “Ah, no wonder the guards were staring at me strangely,” he sighed before a grin flashed across his face moments later.  “Oh well, it’ll probably look better on you anyways,” he announced, placing the flowers over your hair and stepping back to admire you, his gaze tender.  “Yep.  Absolute perfection.”

Your heart in your throat you reached up to gingerly brush the flower petals with your fingers, waiting for your voice to return.  “I dunno,” you said weakly, “I thought you looked rather lovely yourself.”

“Flatterer,” Jaskier whispered, leaning close to your ear before grasping your hand and squeezing.  “Don’t get into too much trouble while I’m gone.”

“I should be the one saying that!” you called after him, not quite able to stop smiling.

——

The market was bustling and to kill some time you peered at some of the stalls with little interest before moving on, weaving through the dense crowd.  One stall, however caught your eye and you stopped, ducking under the awning to linger over the wares; your fingers brushing over the small trinkets on display.  One small silver brooch in particular seemed to call to you and you couldn’t help but think how striking it would look pinned to Jaskier’s lapel.  After a moment’s hesitation you purchased it, exchanging a few coins with the shopkeep and slipping it into your belt pouch to surprise him with later.

After circling the rest of the market you picked out a spot off to the side with a good view of the mouth of the street and stood, stroking Swift’s velvety nose while attempting to both stay alert and block out the majority of the noise pressing in on you.  Several minutes elapsed as you watched the people around you, your sharp eyes checking each face that passed; always on the lookout, before you felt someone bump into you hard from behind and stumble to the ground at your feet.

At first glance you could see it was a wizened old crone and you hurried to help her stand; grasping her arm to pull her up.

“Are you alright?”

“‘m fine, fine,” the old woman mumbled, straightening as much as her bent back would allow.  However, when her deep cowl turned toward you, you nearly stumbled back in fright at the sight of her large milky eyes staring straight through you until you realized, feeling rather foolish, that she was merely blind.  Her hand on your wrist tightened painfully though as she continued to stare, bringing you to wince.

“T-that hurts --”

“Be wary child,” her voice rasped urgently; the rest of your words dying on your tongue as she pulled you closer.  “He hunts you still and he is closing in.  Nowhere is safe.  Not until he draws his last breath.  You cannot run forever.”

Unable to speak you merely stood frozen as her bony fingers bruised your skin; fear enveloping you as a mirthless hollow laugh rang in your ears, magnified by the sounds of the market, voices overlapping; too loud in your ears.  Too loud.  Suddenly the crone was gone, disappeared into the swell of the crowd and you whipped your head around, searching the street for her, her warning taunting you until it was all you could hear.  

Out of the sea of people a face suddenly swam into view and you flinched back as it moved straight toward you as if in slow motion -- the face that haunted your dreams nearly every night, and suddenly it was if you had never left; emotions rolling over you, threatening to pull you under.

Pain.  Punishment.  Anger.  Bruises and wounds soothed by soft words and false promises, empty apologies, and poisoned professions of undying love.  Fear; lingering, choking, festering.  Always there, even in the good times.  Always the fear of angering him, his mood darkening in the blink of an eye.  Never knowing which version you would see from day to day, sometimes even hour to hour —the charmer or the monster.  Hands at your waist, pawing at your clothes; alcohol drenched breath on your skin.  No.  No!  Protests ignored, overpowered.  Your duty.  Tired of fighting.  Close your eyes, wait for it to end.

“Aevryn!”  

Strong hands grasped your arms and you struggled for a moment, panic flaring in your chest as you tried to push him away until you realized it was Jaskier.

“Hey, it’s me, it’s me!  Are you alright?  You’re pale as a sheet.  It’s like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Closing your eyes you tried to ground yourself; focusing on Jaskier’s grip on your arms and the blue of his eyes.  “Aev?  Did something happen?  What did that beggar say to you?”

“Nothing.”  You shook your head, your pulse pounding deafeningly in your ears.  “She just… startled me.”

The bard frowned, unconvinced, but he didn’t press any further.  “Come on, we need to get you calmed down.”  His hand slipped down to your wrist as he led you to the nearest tavern where he proceeded to order you both drinks, choosing a booth tucked into the corner, far away from the other handful patrons.  

“Here, drink this.  It’ll calm your nerves,” he said, pushing one of the mugs toward you.  

You stared down into the mug of pale amber liquid in front of you for a moment before nodding and lifting it to your lips to take a long draw, swallowing the somewhat bitter ale thirstily.  As you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand you noticed Jaskier watching you warily; his eyes worried and his usually grinning lips pressed together in a tense line.

You opened your mouth to try to explain, but he took a deep breath and spoke first.  “Whatever you saw in the market, whatever you were experiencing, it wasn’t real.  You’re safe,” he insisted, moving his hand hesitantly across the table, placing it over yours.

You didn’t move your hand away.

“Thank you,” you murmured, trying to sound as calm as possible, you even managed to look him in the eye though your pulse was still tremulous.  “I’m fine Jask, really.”

He still seemed doubtful as you took another drink, searching for anything to say to distract him.  The ale was starting to calm your nerves, and the warmth of his hand on yours didn’t hurt either.

“So, how did your meeting go at the Radiant Rooster?” you asked, grasping at the distraction.

It did the trick because as soon as you asked, Jaskier’s eyes lit up.  “That’s right, I almost forgot!” he exclaimed, rubbing his hands together in excitement.  “I have amazing news.  So, how’s this for exhilarating?  You and I are going to be performing at the palace tomorrow night for the King’s birthday celebration.”

“What?” you asked, gaping at him across the table, the incident in the marketplace all but forgotten for the moment.  “Did I hear you correctly?  We’re playing for the King?  At the palace?  How did you--?”

Jaskier merely grinned, basking in your amazement.  “We’re not the only musicians that will be there,” he admitted, a touch sourly, “but I have it on good authority that we will be amongst the best there and that the party is going to be one to remember.  Or forget, depending on how much wine is served,” he added with a shrug.

“Is your friend going to be performing as well?” you wondered, trying to imagine this man that Jaskier had been so keen to keep you away from earlier.  

Jaskier’s grimace was confirmation enough.  

“Unfortunately,” he grumbled, folding his hands around his mug.  “But it can’t be helped, at least I’ll be able to enjoy watching the pompous ass’s face when we upstage him on his own turf.”  He paused to take a drink, seeming to remember something else mid-swallow.  “Oh!  There is one more thing.  Before tomorrow night we’ll need to upgrade our look,” he explained, picking at the worn silk of his open jacket.  “My doublet’s seen better days and as lovely as you always look, I think something just a little flashier will be just the thing.”

“Flashier...?”  Suddenly self conscious you glanced down at your dress.  “How flashy?”

Sensing your trepidation Jaskier was quick to ease your worries before rambling on.  “Trust me, I’ll make sure you look amazing, love.  I’m thinking something colour coordinated.  It’ll be costly to have something made at such short notice, but I know a guy--”

——

“So, what do you think?”  Jaskier asked, pulling aside the curtain with a flourish and stepping out, his arms spread to show off his new outfit.  As he approached he made a small 180 so you could see him at all angles before stopping in front of you and waiting for your appraisal.

Stepping up to him, a smile playing at the corner of your lips, you straightened his collar, your hands running over the slope of his shoulders, smoothing the silky dark blue fabric.  “You look quite dashing,” you murmured, your fingers moving to fasten the topmost button he’d forgotten.  “You look good in anything, but I think this colour suits you best.  It brings out the striking blue of your eyes, and there’s just enough gold embroidery to draw attention without looking gaudy.”  

Your gaze flicked up to find him watching you, smiling softly and you suddenly realized how close you were.  Just a few more inches and you could easily tilt your head back and press your lips to his.  Shaking yourself from this thought you quickly stepped back, slipping your hands from his chest to clasp in your skirts, your face heating.

Perhaps it was merely your imagination, but you could have sworn Jaskier’s grin faltered slightly, disappointment flickering across his face for an instant before smoothing as you stepped back.  “I’m glad you like it,” he said, glancing down at himself as he ran his own hands over the fabric as well.  “Now, it’s your turn,” he exclaimed with a grin, gesturing toward the changing curtain.  “I’m excited to see how yours looks on you.”

Slightly nervous you slipped into the small changing area to find your new dress hanging there waiting for you.  Jaskier had ordered it to his specifications and this was the first time seeing it with your own eyes.  Running your fingers over the rich midnight blue velvet of the bodice with a soft gasp, you admired the intricate thread of gold embroidery around the neckline, thinning out into little starbursts as they trailed down toward the gauzy tulle of the skirt.  You wondered how much extra Jaskier had to pay to have this made in a day and a half’s time.  The embroidery alone had to have taken a considerable amount of time to apply and you felt kind of sorry for the poor seamstresses who had to work so fast.

Taking a deep breath you stripped and pulled the dress up, slipping your arms through the snug sleeves… there was only one problem you realized, reaching behind yourself… you could only tie the dress up halfway and there was no attendant to help you finish. 

Taking a deep breath you called through the curtain, “Uhm, Jaskier?”  

“Mhmm?  Almost done?”  His voice sang back.  “I’m on pins and needles waiting here, please come out and end my suffering.”

“I uh, I need a little help…”  Pulling back the curtain you stepped out reluctantly, holding the front of the dress tight against your chest so it wouldn’t slip down.  “I can’t finish tying it up on my own.”

Jaskier’s eyes widened noticeably as they very obviously swept down your form and he swallowed.  “Of-of course.”  

You turned so he could tighten the laces, shivers racing up your spine as his fingers brushed against your skin.  He fumbled a couple times, but soon he announced he was finished and stepped back so you could turn to face him once more.

“I was right.  Absolutely breathtaking,” he murmured and you had to duck your head to hide your burning cheeks.  “Do you like it?”

“I do,” you replied, arranging the skirt and swinging your hips to make it swish around your legs, a smile pulling your lips.  “I feel like a princess in a fairytale,” you admitted with a laugh.

“Does that make me the prince?”  Jaskier asked with a wry smile, offering you his hand.  You glanced at it for a moment before taking it and he spun you, dancing without music.

You thought for a second and couldn’t help but laugh harder.  “More like the court bard who constantly tries to woo me with song and sweet words; promises of running off into the sunset together to escape my imminent and unwanted betrothal.”  

Jaskier’s brows rose and he chuckled delightedly.  “Ooo I like that even better.  Fits me to a t.”  He hesitated for a moment and you came to a stop, his arm still wrapped loosely around your waist.  “And do you?”

Somewhat dazed by the sudden stop you tilt your head in confusion.  “Do I what?”

“Run away with the bard?”

“Jaskier…” Your voice dies away and you can’t seem to make it come back for several moments.  “Thank you for the dress,” you finally manage with a whisper, avoiding the question.  “We’re going to look amazing tonight.”

[cchellacat]

Thank You For Your Service. Pt 2

Chapter 1

18 +

Wintershock: Bucky/Darcy

Thanking @omnomsauruswrites  for being my muse.

Bucky was happy to take the job he’d been offered as SI. It felt like a second chance to put things right between him and Stark.  Happy Hogan had retired as head of security and although Steve had wanted him as part of the Avengers Initiative he’d wanted something less unpredictable and violet than running from one side of the globe to the other. 

The offer from Stark to take up the security position and the request of him being the personal bodyguard to the man’s daughter was too tempting to say no to.  He’d promised he’d protect her with his life, that the man trusted him to do so was the olive branch he needed.  He swore he wouldn’t let him down.  He was’t going to let another Stark die on his watch. 

The night before he’d went out for a drink and met the prettiest dame, in a little bar, just a few blocks from the Tower.  He’d not been intending to take things as far as they’d gone but he’d not been able to resist having her when she’d dragged him off.  The disappointment he’d felt when she’d taken off without even saying goodbye had hurt more than he liked.  He ca’t stop thinking about her and her pretty red lips and flashing blue eyes.  He woke up that morning with a shout, the dream of her so real he’d came like a teenager in his sleep. 

Now he’s standing here being introduced to her by Stark and he can’t believe his luck.  Maybe now, with the way she’s smiling at him he can ask her out on a date.

Just as this thought crosses his mind, Stark tells him this is the woman he’ll be guarding.  He sees the way the brightness leaves her eyes and the thin line of her lips, the glare she shoots him like a slap to the face.  He can guess where her thoughts have turned, she thinks he knew who she was last night and he can’t blame her for being suspicious, for jumping to conclusions.

“No.  I’ve told you before Tony, I don’t need a bodyguard, especially not him!”

He wants to flinch back from the icy fury in her voice.  Her focus is on Stark, but he can feel the way she’s watching him from the corner of her eye.

“Pumpkin, you’ve been kidnapped four times and almost kidnapped seven times.  You need protection.”

“You don’t do this for Peter!”

“Because I don’t have to, Peter keeps a tight schedule, Happy always drives him where he wants to go and picks him up. You on the other hand, waltz out of here and wander about with no warning and no plan, you don’t even tell people where you’re going.”

“I’m an adult, not a child, I don’t need to be treated like this, I don’t need to be treated like I’m going to break, I can take care of myself!”

“You’re not just putting yourself in danger Darcy.  Think of the people who have to come rescue you, think of the people around you when you inevitably get taken again.  I know you can take care of yourself, I know you want to be independent, but your connection to Foster and I and living here in the Tower, it makes you a target. You have a responsibility to minimise that risk as far as you can-“

“That’s not fair!  I need space, I’m always being watched you can’t-“

“Yes I can.  Maybe you won’t listen to me as you father, but you will listen to me as your employer.  You will accept a bodyguard and keep him appraised of your movements at all times. Non-negotiable.”  He grabs a tablet and passes it to her.

 “Foster already agreed to all of this, she never leaves the tower without Thor or the protection detail he chose for her.  This is a list of the threatening letters both she and you have gotten as well as a comprehensive transcript of dark web chatter we’ve monitored for the last month.  Read it. Then tell me you’re not in danger.”

Stark storms out before she can respond, the pad clutched hard in her hands, knuckles white from her angry grip.

“Doll-“  he begins, hoping to try and head her off.  She turns the full force of her displeasure on him.

“Don’t.  You. Dare.  You don’t get to talk, not after last night!”

He feels irritation bubble up inside him. He didn’t do anything wrong.  

“Now wait just a minute sweetheart, I’m not the one who snuck out the back to avoid seeing the guy she just banged in the rest room.”

He wants to hit himself almost as soon as the words leave his mouth.  The way she flinches back and her cheeks redden.

“You were following me!”  She slams the data pad down on the desk, bright spots of fury colouring her cheeks.

“No.  I wasn’t.  I had no idea who you were!”   The volume of his voice rises, he can’t believe he’s pleading with her to understand, but he doesn’t want her to think so badly of him, even if they can have nothing more than a professional relationship now.  

“Yeah, right, I’m meant to believe you sitting next to me at the bar was just a coincidence?”  The bitterness in her tone and the way she folds her arms defensively over her chest makes him want to chase all that self-doubt away amid a flurry of gentle kisses.

“Yeah, you are.  I wouldn’t do something like that.  You might not like this whole bodyguard thing and I don’t blame you, but don’t take your issues with it out on me.  I’m only here to do my job.”

At those last few words she jerks, her head snapping up and her eyes locking with his.

“That’s all I am, now?  A job?”  Accusation and hurt laces her tone.

“That’s all you can be!”  He wants to beg her to understand.  That this, whatever pull they felt between them, could never be.

“Well, you were a lousy lay anyway!”

She throws the last out furiously, biting and searing in its delivery and storms off, much like her father.  The dig is a weak one but it has the desired effect.  It dents his pride, irritates him that she thinks she can throw their tryst back in his face like that.  He follows her before he can reconsider the action, before he can think with his brain instead of his dick.  

He catches her in the elevator, grabbing her arm to pull her back and she whirls on him, already raising a hand to slap him. Bucky catches her wrist effortlessly with one hand and twists her arm behind her, pulling her body against his…

They’re both bristling with pent up emotion, faces flushed, chests heaving with anger and desire and the air around them is charged with tension.  He does the only thing he can think of and kisses her.

The doors of the elevator close behind them and it starts to move.

Darcy kisses him back hard, lips and teeth, nipping and biting as they try to punish the other.  She can’t think clearly, she makes a noise of protest when he pulls away and jerks her wrist from his hold only to grab the collar of his shirt and pull him back into the bruising kiss.  

Bucky forgets who they are and why they shouldn’t be doing this, the heat of her soft curves under his hands and the taste of her on his tongue sending a burning need, like fire, through his veins. He backs her into the mirrored glass wall and slams his hand on the emergency stop button before hiking up her skirt and lifting her.  She wraps her legs round him with a mewling sound of need and grinds into him.  This is nothing like last night, although the position is the same, the feeling is full of resentment and ire.  

She hears the sound of his zip and feels him tear her panties off, two of his fingers seeking out her cunt and plunging into her without warning.  She’s soaking for him, the abrupt invasion only turning her on more.  She cries out and digs her nails into his shoulders, taking a small vicious pleasure in the grunt of pain it garners.  

The urgency that comes over him to be inside her, right now, drives away any reason or sense.  She’s wet, dripping already, he can feel her body responding to him, arching into him with tiny breathy whimpers and snarls, canting her hips into his and tearing at his t-shirt.  He relishes the way her nails score his skin and he grips her ass and hips tighter, lining himself up and driving home in one harsh thrust, the sound of flesh smacking together obscene as he fucks her, thrusting into her hard and fast, pushing them both into an angry maelstrom, both of them racing to the precipice.  

She bites his shoulder hard as her pussy begins to flutter around his cock, sharp cries muffled even as he feels his own release approaching.  He comes hard, his fingers leaving bruises on her pale skin, growling her name into her neck, buried deep in her heat, it feels like nirvana.  

They make a filthy tableau in the mirrored space, she looks like some primal goddess of debauchery, legs hooked around him, her blouse open, tits exposed and on display, pale skin littered with reddening marks made by his mouth and teeth.  Wild eyed and glassy as she pants, mouth open, still impaled on his cock, her body still clenching around him, milking his cum with each involuntary shudder. 

He thinks he’ll always remember the way she looks right now, in this moment, burnt into his memory for as long as he lives. The visceral feeling of satisfaction that he did this to her lying deep in his gut.  He’s never wanted to possess anyone so thoroughly before, wanted to mark them as his and defy anyone to challenge it, but she drives that need in him to the surface hard.  

They can’t seem to look away from one another, eyes locked.  The moment breaks when she finally tears her gaze away, he can see the beginning of tears gathering in her eyes and he regretfully lets her go, gently setting her down. 

She pushes him away with a sob.  All he wants to do is hold her and apologise, but the words won’t come and they fix their clothes before she hits the stop button and the elevator moves again.  She gets off on the next floor and he reaches for her.

“Darcy…”  He doesn’t know if it’s to try and fix things or reiterate the truth.

“I hate you!”  Her fists as clenched at her sides as she hisses at him.  She knows it’s childish but she is about an inch away from stomping her foot too.

“You can’t hate me forever and you can’t ignore me either.”  He tells her a touch bitterly. 

“Watch me”

“I’m still your bodyguard.” He growls at her, losing all patience.

Her lips turn in an unfriendly smile.

“We’ll see how long that lasts.”

The doors close before he can argue back and he’s left running agitated hands through sweat slick hair, the smell of her still on his fingers.  He shouldn’t have done that, they shouldn’t have done that.  He needs to get control back.  This can’t ever be anything and he’s not about to quit this job just because his libido decided to pick her as the first woman he’s wanted in nearly seventy years. 

Tomorrow, he’d speak to her tomorrow and figure out her schedule then and have Jarvis alert him if she tried to leave the building in the meantime.  He makes his way back to his new office and sits down, wincing when his back hits the chair, she’d torn him up good with her little kitten claws, nails raking a path down his back.  He closes his eyes and he sees her again in his mind, the pretty picture she made as she came imprinted behind his eyelids.  He was in so much trouble.  

To be continued......

There are at least two, maybe three more chapters to come.  Let me know if you want tagged in this.

Tagging: @eurynome827  @omnomsauruswrites  @thesaltyduchess  @spacemansam   @book-dragon-13  @loricameback  @jobean12-blog  @sallycanwait68  @lookwhatyoumademequeue  @letstalkaboutsebbaby  @thatgirlkei  @marvelousmeggi  @grimeysociety  @msruchita  @southerncross47

[winteriron-trash]

The (Un)Wanted Kiss [Chapter 7]

A/N: See? Told you I would post the second one right after. I’m so proud of myself. Now watch me take like a week to remember to update it on Ao3. Did I end Chapter 6 where I did so I wouldn’t have to write Bucky’s mental transition into TWS? Yes, yes I did. Don’t judge me, words are hard.

TW for mentions of rape

Summary/Warnings | AO3 | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2| Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6

-

The Asset stood up, blinking. Situation assessment. Containment cell. Civilian in the cell. Unarmed. The Asset looked up, waiting for an order.

“Open the cell,” The handler ordered. Agents swarmed forward, unlocking the door. “Asset. Get over here.”

The Asset took long, deliberate steps until it stood before the handler.

The handler held out a gun for The Asset to take. It took the gun without hesitation.

“Shoot him.” The handler jerked his head toward the civilian still in the cell.

The Asset turned, facing the civilian. It raised the gun and-

“Cannot comply.” The Asset turned back to the handler.

The handler blinked, eyes narrowed. “What the fuck does-”

The Asset put a bullet between the handler’s eyes before he could finish. The other agents were minimally trained but armed. Their termination required more effort but was still done efficiently.

The Asset looked back the civilian. It’s handler.

“Ready to comply.”

The handler stared at it, pushing himself to his feet. “Wait, me? You’re fucking-what the hell?”

“Ready to comply,” The Asset repeated.

“Okay.” The handler nodded slowly. “Okay. I’m gonna- we’re going to get out of here you just need to… kill any guards or… agents we come across, I guess. Just… make sure I don’t die, and you don’t die.”

The Asset gave a single nod. Mission, termination of any opposing forces. Survival necessary for both Asset and handler.

The handler stumbled out of the cell. The Asset assessed him. Malnutrition, dehydration, minor injuries. Survival was likely.

“Um, this way.” The handler pointed, and the Asset followed. The Asset gave the handler a spare gun. “Oh, thanks,” The handler said, accepting it.

The handler led the Asset down long hallways, only pausing to unlock doors. Any guards they encountered were sufficiently eliminated.

“Alright, almost there, we just have to- Jesus Christ!” The handler shouted, jumping backwards. The Asset lifted its gun. “Hey no, don’t shoot! Friendlies, they’re friendlies.”

The Asset lowered its gun. The Asset vaguely recognized the man in front of the handler, the one in the Captain America suit. Failed target. It didn’t know the others behind him, but the handler seemed to.

“Fucking hell, Cap. Damned near scared the shit out of me,” The handler hissed, hand placed over his head. Erratic heart-rate, non-life threatening.

Captain America sighed. “What the hell, Tony?” He looked at the Asset. “Bucky?”

The Asset tilted his head to the side. Old memories tugged at it, but the Asset filed them away. Unnecessary for mission completion.

“He’s not all there right now,” The handler said with a hand wave. “I don’t really know, they used the codewords on him.”

“So he- he’s the Winter Soldier?” Captain America asked, tensing.

“Yeah, I guess.” The handler wiped a hand over his face. “Look, all I know is I think he thinks I’m his handler or… whatever. Can we just get out of here?”

Captain America nodded. “Natasha already knocked out the security cameras.” He looked at the Asset with pursed lips, then turned and nodded at one of his teammates, the female with red hair. “Buck, I’m really sorry about this. It’s easier this way.”

The Asset frowned, ready to say something when the woman raised her hand and shot it with something. The Asset lost consciousness.

-

When Bucky woke up he was… himself. At the very least, that was a pro.

Bucky sat up, rubbing his head. He was on a metal table, and while the initial flashes of panic at old memories of metal tables seared through him, the noise of someone clearing their throat caught his attention.

“Alright, this is an insensitive thing to ask, but who am I talking to here? Bucky or the Winter Soldier?” Tony’s voice asked.

“Me,” Bucky groaned, looking up at Tony. He glanced around, recognizing Banner’s lab.

Tony blinked. “That wasn’t the answer I was looking for, but okay.”

Bucky glowered at him.

Tony sighed. “You’ve been out for ten hours. Natasha hit you with a bit too much ‘oomf’ if you ask me.”

“You’re the one who designed who new Widow Bits.” Bucky reminded him.

“Touche.” Tony tilted his head to the side. “How you feeling?”

“My head is killing me,” Bucky said, brushing his hair out of his face. “But I’m fine.”

“Okay.” Tony hummed. “That’s… progress.”

There was a long, awkward pause.

“Okay, I hate to ask this, but… what the hell was that? All of it.” Tony cleared his throat again, folding his arms.

Bucky sighed. Right. “It’s… a long story.”

“I’ve got the time.”

“Okay.” Bucky forced himself to look at Tony’s face. He couldn’t quite manage eye contact, but he could focus on Tony’s other various features. “HYDRA used me. In… more ways than one.”

Tony made a face. “I can’t believe I of all people am saying this, but please tell me that’s not a sexual innuendo.”

“It is.” Bucky shrugged. “Anyway, most of the higher up agents, they all… used me. Got together and…”

“They gang-raped you.” Tony filled in and Bucky could see his jaw muscle twitching, face determinedly placid.

“Yeah.” Bucky closed his eyes for a moment. “Yeah. They…” Bucky couldn’t make himself say it. “Did that. And since so many of them did it, and HYDRA was meticulous with making sure I couldn’t… break out of the HYDRA programming, they put a failsafe in me.” Bucky opened his eyes, looking at the ceiling. “I can’t defy someone whom I’ve…”

“Who you fucked.” Tony finished.

Bucky’s throat went tight. “Yeah. That’s why I had to… I knew they were gonna use the codewords. And I needed… to make sure I didn’t kill you.”

Tony’s expression was still blank, but Bucky could see how hard to was trying to make it stay that way. Bucky honestly preferred it that way. He didn’t want to know what Tony was thinking. Didn’t want to see the look of disgust over how fucked up  Bucky really was.

“That’s why I couldn’t kill Steve.” Bucky kept talking, just to fill the silence. “Before, back when the HYDRA takeover happened. My programming. I didn’t really remember him as much as I remembered… having sex with him. And I couldn’t… I couldn’t carry out the hit because of that.”

“Okay.” Tony swallowed. “Okay. I would’ve preferred you’d told me that before, but… okay.”

Bucky shrugged. “Sorry.”

“Alright then.” Tony clapped his hands, rubbing them together. “That was a nice and awkward conversation, I’m sufficiently grossed and horrified. I’ll just… give you some time alone. I’ll be in the workshop if there are any other earth-shattering confessions that need to be made.”

With that, Tony almost ran out of the room. Bucky didn’t blame him, he looked pale and a bit green. Bucky watched him go, biting the inside of his cheek.

If he hadn’t been before, Tony was definitely disgusted with Bucky now. Which he should’ve been, to begin with, really. Bucky was a monster. He deserved Tony thinking of him in that way.

He just wished he knew why he cared so much what Tony thought of him.

-

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