#wait. did I upload the pictures with the lace in the right shade of black? idk. oops

[thirsty-4-ghouls]

so... you know how I said I wasn't going to make the 'grandma's sewing scraps' dragon? I looked in the auction house out of pure curiosity and did not expect to see her. THE perfect dragon for it

plans:

maybe even

[viperbarnes]

The Long Last Summer

[B. Barnes] Oneshot

40s Post-War AU

Summary: With Steve off in America again, Bucky finds himself doing his own version of a USO tour through Italy, boosting morale and friendship, or so they tell him. However, a new stationing in the tiny town of Montecarra gives him more reason to want to stay, when he becomes quickly whisked away by wild, carefree and exuberant you.

Warnings: language, smut, mentions of the war, awful awful Italian probably. The reader has a name, but it's still written as a reader insert.

Note: The reader/character in this fic is a black woman. This fic was originally uploaded elsewhere, so if you're a part of the small audience who read it originally please don't panic, it isn't stolen lol. The story is almost entirely spoken in Italian, but doing italics for every conversation was annoying, so just assume that unless otherwise stated! Thank you for reading!

Words: 19.5k [This is very long.... Sorry...]

The hot Italian sun beats down on the town below, the occasional breeze carried overland from the nearby ocean to the west might have been a blessing if that too weren’t humid and warm. Bucky Barnes thinks it should be a sin for it to be so hot so early in the morning, but he’s long past complaining about it. Leaning against his car door, stopped on a hill overlooking the town of Montecarra, Bucky takes another drag of his cigarette before stomping it out. At least he hadn’t woken up in a filthy, sweltering trench, surrounded by hot bodies after another restless night of gunfire filled dreams. At least he was only required to wear his uniform during official ‘work’ hours.

Giving the town, his newest home, one last look, Bucky gets back in the car and makes his way down.

Being a core member of The Howling Commandos these past years, Bucky had earned himself a certain amount of celebrity, both in America and abroad. Especially in Italy. Given that Steve had returned to the States already, and Bucky had expressed some minor interest in staying in Europe a while longer, Colonel Phillips had happily assigned him as a ‘morale liaison’ while the US and other allies sorted out the peace treaties and demilitarisation of Europe.

It made as much sense to Bucky then as it did now. He had come to realise that ‘morale liaison’ was just jargon for ‘dancing, handshaking, smiling, posing monkey’, seeing as most of his time the past two years had been spent shaking hands while smiling and posing for various photos. Usually with politicians. Bucky hated politicians.

Luckily, his newest post, Montecarra, was far more what Bucky had thought he’d be doing when Phillips had given him his orders; helping people rebuild and reclaim their lives in a post-fascist Italy. As he drives through the small town, Bucky thinks briefly that the bulk of it seemed to be almost entirely untouched by the war, the classic Italian architecture and warm coloured buildings homey and welcoming, the cobbled stone streets and walkways looking every part the idyllic Tuscan town, but then he sees it.

Toward the edges of town, Bucky’s eyes catch on a shattered stone building, utterly destroyed. It’s a small ways from the town itself, a little field between it and the nearest houses, and he can’t help but already feel grateful for the fact it looked to be the only place that had been hit by the violence, though he doesn’t deny the unseen scars that no doubt linger on the people themselves.

He quickly looks away and continues on to his residence.

There was no army base or fortifications in Montecarra, the nearest being in Florence, but The people had kindly offered up a small, newly unowned cottage for the military to house any visiting soldiers in during their stay. When he finally gets to be shown around by the nearest neighbour, a friendly older woman, he’s glad that for the time being, he has it to himself.

He gets himself settled, partially unpacks his bags before getting bored and making his way out to the blooming garden, camera in hand. It had been a gift from Steve, sent for his birthday the previous year when the two had not been able to reunite, and although Bucky had much preferred putting pencil to paper before he’d owned his own camera, he’d found in recent months, as the cold receded and the sun came out, he’d picked up a knack for photography.

The fact that this model was an ‘instant’ model, making it so that after each photo he took, a little slip of paper would spit out and slowly develop the image, certainly aided his newfound love for the hobby. When he had been a kid, his Ma would take the family to have their pictures taken once a year, and the results always took days or weeks.

Lifting the camera to his eye, Bucky peeks through and aims it at a tall bushel of bougainvillea, the bright red against the butter-coloured walls of his cottage making him wish the photos weren’t just black and white.

He snaps a few more floral shots, wondering absently if he’ll be able to buy more photo paper in town. With the sun still high in the sky, he decides that he may as well take a short walk, if not to introduce himself to some of the locals, then to answer his question.

Honestly, the unendingly friendly reception he’d received everywhere he went never ceased to surprise him. Two years ago Italy had been the enemy or the soldiers and government at least. For the most part, the people caught in the crossfire had been weary and scared, but helpful where they could be to Allied soldiers. Still, the warmth they seemed to hold him, and other allied soldiers with was always a little startling at first.

By the time he makes it to the centre of town, he’d been kissed on his cheeks more times than he could count, but interestingly, the people of Montecarra weren’t as clingy as he’d found some other towns and cities… After greeting him, they’d happily left him alone, though with numerous and repeated offers to have him for dinner.

Once unable to stand doing nothing at all, and always on the go, the young man Bucky had once been, had evolved into a quieter, more solitary version of himself. He still liked to have fun, mind you, he’d learnt to take enjoyment and pleasure where he could in the army, but his sniper’s life had taught him contentedness with his own company. Bucky was fine being alone, without chatter or noise to distract him. He’d come to prefer it, actually.

Bucky finds that Montecarra’s central space was a large set of four courtyards, separated by various important municipal buildings and shops, and at the centre point, an old communal well that had been made into a fountain. Without thinking, Bucky lifts his camera to snap a shot of the fountain. He loved New York more than anything, and he couldn’t wait to return home, but damn if he hadn’t fallen hard for European architecture.

He’s still waving the little piece of photo paper back and forth to help it develop when loud laughter and the familiar noise of children playing reaches his ears. It startles him slightly, Montecarra wasn’t exactly sleepy, but it was quiet, and the residence all seemed to be of an older sort, he hadn’t seen many children yet, though a look at his watch tells him that might have been due to school.

A small gaggle of children of various ages come skipping into view across from the fountain, chatting loudly and seemingly unaware of the previous peace that had reigned in the town square. Unlike in New York, however, Bucky notices not a single patron of the nearby outdoor restaurant throws them dirty looks or hisses at them to quiet down, if anything, the people nearby pause to watch for a few seconds, not with disdain written on their faces, but soft, gentle smiles, before they return to their business.

A voice calling out from the back of the group, noticeable for its maturity in comparison to the children’s voices, catches Bucky’s attention and he lets his gaze skip over the scene until it lands on you, and suddenly, he’s breathless.

Bucky Barnes had seen a lot of beautiful women in his time, and had been lucky enough to know a number of them too, but you, you are something else entirely.

It’s your smile he notices first, plush rosy brown lips pulled wide in a joyful grin, so magnetising he finds himself unable to look away. Your hair is long, curly and dark, brushed into waves that the humidity and breeze seemed set on ruining, and with one hand you secure your wide brim sun hat as you chase the kids. Your white blouse is laced around the open collar and both it and the bright yellow of your skirt stand out against your syrupy brown skin, smooth and a little shiny from the sun.

“Here! Roberto, Norma, come sit here a moment! Look at the fountain!” You beckon the children, two strays in particular, over toward the fountain, and much like Bucky, the kids seem magnetised to you as well. You float right up to the water, sitting on the edge as the children all gather around, still chatting and playing loudly, though a little more orderly now.

Bucky watches you swipe a hand through the cool water, smiling and speaking animatedly with one of the children. He wonders if you were perhaps their teacher, but he’s snapped away from his thoughts a moment later.

“That man has a camera! Look!”

Bucky blinks, tearing his eyes from you, even as the children, and you, all now turn your attention to him in varying shades of wonderment. He’s still a small distance away, but it doesn’t matter as not even a second later, he’s being swamped by the pack of energetic youngsters.

“Are you a photographer?!”

“Can I see it?!”

“Will you take my picture!?”

The last request sets off a frenzy, the rest of the children all joining in to ask for their picture taken, and honestly, Bucky doesn’t even think he has enough paper for that.

“Hey! Mascalzoni! Leave the poor man alone!” You appear then, hands on your hips, not even two meters away and Bucky thinks he could faint.

“Oh, they’re—” He cuts himself off, switching to Italian.

“They’re fine, really… I just don’t think I have the photo paper for it…” He explains, trying his best to look you in the eye, but not quite making it. You cock your head in sympathy, and clap once, getting the children’s attention once more.

“Come on, stop it. Can’t you see you’ve scared him?!” You say playfully, though Bucky wants to correct that it isn’t them he’s scared of.

“How are we supposed to get more tourists to Montecarra if you’re all scaring them away, huh?!” You continue, crossing your arms and the kids seem to relent somewhat, whining a little as they back up from Bucky. You give him another, apologetic smile.

“Come along, you all better get home before your mothers’ tan your hides!” You say, making a shooing motion that makes Bucky second-guess his teacher theory. Before any of them can begin to move though, he takes half a step forward, holding up his camera.

“Wait, I can— I can take a photo of you all together…” He says, and watches as even your face lights up, though as the children all begin to excitedly gather in front of the fountain, you step away, to his side.

“You don’t want to be in it?” He asks, throwing you a sideways glance and yep, you’re still just as pretty as before. You smile and shake your head.

“No. Not this time.” he doesn’t know what you mean by that, but focuses back on the children, raising the camera and snapping a shot of the children, smiling brightly.

Chaos ensues once again when the paper pops out of the bottom, further exciting the group as Bucky attempts to hold the picture out of their reach while it develops, unable to stop himself from chuckling at how spirited they were. It had been a long time since he’d seen any kid so carefree. Perhaps that was why the townspeople were so unphased by their noise earlier.

After the picture is passed around for all to see, you clear your throat and jerk your head away again.

“Go on, clear out now.” Far more happily the children bid each other goodbye, a few moving in pairs or trios as they split off in separate directions.

Bucky is all too aware that you’re still standing near him, and he focuses on cleaning his camera lens with his sleeve.

“Thank you.” You say kindly, with a slight bow of your head, and he finds himself shrugging and shaking his head.

“It’s alright, really.” he pauses, and then;

“Are you their teacher?” He doesn’t expect the surprised laugh you let out, shaking your own head vigorously.

“Hell no. I don’t have the patience for that! We were just walking the same way.” Bucky blinks, not expecting your language, though he finds it endearing, a little more grounding. He laughs.

“I see.”

“You’re the soldier, yes? From America?” The subject change catches him out for a moment, but he’s nodding a moment later.

“Sergeant James Barnes, ma’am.” He almost salutes, doesn’t and then thinks better of it, giving you one anyway. You cock your head at him, an amused smile pulling at your lips.

“I thought soldiers wore uniforms?” You fold your hands in front of you, and Bucky blinks, down at his casual civilian clothes, and then back at you.

“Oh, I, well, I do, but only when I’m working, these days…” You laugh good-naturedly at his awkward delivery.

“I was only teasing. I’ve heard from Rome that soldiers spend just as much time out of their uniforms as in them.” You say it easily, with a playful chuckle, but the risque connotations don’t go over his head, his eyebrows lifting high in his surprise.

Were you… flirting…? Or was this just how you were?

“Well, Sergeant Barnes, it was lovely to meet you.” You’re stepping back, giving him another smile (were you always smiling? He wants to know, now), and a little wave before you begin to turn. Bucky flounders at your fast retreat and panics.

“Uh, wait!” You look back, and he swallows.

“What’s… what’s your name?” You chuckle and push your hair behind your shoulder.

“Cristina.” You tell him and he repeats it, trying to roll the ‘r’ like you do, which makes you laugh again.

“People usually just call me Nina.” You offer a moment later and Bucky nods, before giving you his own, more commonly used nickname.

“Bucky?” You repeat, almost unsure, but when he nods, mouth dry at hearing his name on your lips, you smile and nod.

“Bucky. I will see you around, Bucky.” And with that, he watches dumbly, awestruck in his place as you float out of the plaza.

—-

The warm breeze carries through the open windows of your house, sending the scents from the kitchen below wafting around the rooms. You’d already finished your work for the day, and the chores your mother assigned you, and with a slight pep in your step, you finish tying the scarf around your hair and grab your book.

“Mama? I’m going to read!” You call out, pausing for a moment to listen for her reply. You hear a faint humming above the radio and quickly take your leave, skipping down the front steps of your home and out of the walled front courtyard.

Montecarra is hot and warm, like it had been every other day this week, but you don’t mind. The streets you pass through on the way to your nook are quiet, with only the occasional Nonna in her garden, or returning from the markets. There had been more people here once, a long time ago, and in your childhood days you remember visitors, passing through and admiring your home on their way to other places. You missed that deeply, but push it from your mind, trying not to sour your day at the thought of your already sleepy town becoming sleepier.

You reach your normal place quickly, little plaza toward the outskirts of town, many of the houses here empty now. One of the homes, a double storied one like your own, has a tall garden wall that sits in the shade of the tall tree behind it. Midway through the wall, high enough to take some effort to climb, sit a series of three empty archways, glassless windows that give a view of the overgrown garden within, and from the other side of the little square beyond.

Nobody came to this part of town, not anymore, and in recent years, you’d found it the perfect place to sit unbothered. Tucking your book under your arm, you hitch your skirt up a little, and use one of the roots that climbs and decorates the wall with green ivy as a foothold. The archway isn’t high, but you certainly couldn’t get to it without a little help.

Once situated, you lean back against the pillar, bringing your feet up in front of you, and rest your book against your thighs and knees. You lose yourself quickly in the words, devouring the stories of far away places, detectives and mystery and murder. When the Nazi’s had been here, you hadn’t been allowed to freely enjoy such things. You’d been hidden away, scared everyday would be your last, but it had never come. They had left, and you had been safe again once more.

It was why you enjoyed sitting outside, in the sun and warm, basking in a world that was purely yours again.

Well, not just yours.

A quiet, but pointed cough makes you jump slightly, and you whip your head to find the source, shutting your book on instinct before your eyes find him, and you smile.

“Good Afternoon, Sergeant Barnes!” You greet, and the man returns your smile, lifting his hand briefly. You had known he was coming of course, your whole town did. He was helping the men rebuild the old schoolhouse, though he seemed to have finished that task for the day, as you had finished yours.

He was a handsome man, with dark hair and blue eyes, his pale skin lightly tanned on his face and arms from days in the Italian sun. He was young, though older than you, likely nearing his late twenties if you were correct. You hadn’t known who he was during the war, but afterwards, you’d had plenty of newspaper fodder to read. You think most of it must have been trash though, because the man the magazines and gossip columns had labelled as a charming, suave ladies man could not be the same one that stood before you now.

“Bucky. Bucky is fine, Senora Cristina.” He replies, his eyes dropping a little as he shoves his hands in his pockets.

“Well then you must call me Nina.” You reply, keeping up your smile for when he looks back at you. When he realises you haven’t looked away from him, he quickly averts his gaze again, but clears his throat and looks around the empty plaza, waving a hand.

“Quiet spot?” He asks, and you turn from where your back is pressed against the brick, swinging your legs over the side of the wall to face him properly. You nod.

“Yes. The people who lived in this part left. We don’t know if they’ll come back or…” You trail off, pursing your lips briefly, but shake your head. No. No time to dwell.

“It’s a good place to come to be alone.”

“Oh, I can— I can leave if you’d lik—” Bucky’s face falls into anxiety stricken concern as he gestures with his thumb toward the little road you think he must have come from, but you cut him off quickly, laughing.

“I was not attempting to chase you away!” You tell him, and he drops his hand back to his side. For a few seconds he just looks at you, like he’s unsure of what to say, and so you fill the silence the best you can.

“How do you like Montecarra?” Bucky nods quickly, his body language immediately relaxing somewhat. You wonder if you make him nervous because he’s unsure how to speak to women, or if it might be something else.

“It’s beautiful. I haven’t been able to stop looking, you know? We don’t have towns like this where I’m from.” You smile at his clear enthusiasm, and cock your head. You’d never been to America, you’d never even really been more than a few miles from your home, so you can’t imagine what towns must look like there.

“The people are friendly, I mean, everyone is friendly everywhere, but the people here are… they don’t seem to want to be around me twenty-four-seven.” He adds, and then clamps his mouth shut, as if he’d forgotten who he was talking to. You think maybe he hasn’t been around friends in a while. You shrug, and chortle.

“Oh, that’s just how we are. My Papa used to say that in the cities, nobody can leave each other alone because they don’t make real connections… but here and other small towns, we’re all we have, and after a while, you just get sick of each other.”

Bucky laughs, loudly and heartily, and you think it is a lovely sound. He says something in English, you think you hear ‘christ’, but he sobers, still smiling.

“I’d say that’s about right.”

“Though, you should be wary of signora Cavalli… she’s like a venus flytrap, you know?” You say seriously, but with a conspiratorial edge so that he knows you are only mostly joking. Bucky cocks his head in confusion, but chuckles.

“A what?!”

“A venus flytrap! You know! It’s a plant that looks all bright and colourful, but when bugs land on it it snaps shut!” You clap your hands together in demonstration.

“And then it eats them.”

“Are you… are you telling me signora Cavalli is going to eat me?” Bucky asks, eyebrows high and you take a moment to dramatically look him over.

“No. I don’t think you are her type. But she will start a conversation that will not end until either you or her dies, and trust me, she’s really old.” Bucky laughs again, hand on his belly this time, his head thrown back again, and you can’t help but break ‘character’ to laugh with him.

“Right. Avoid signora Cavalli. Gotcha.” He says as he calms, and again, he seems to have relaxed even more, the little pull that you had noticed between his brow yesterday, and earlier, even when he wasn’t frowning, had all but disappeared.

“Sounds like I need your guidance here. Clearly.” He continues, and you can’t help but feel excited by the prospect. You nod vigorously, and hop down from your ledge.

“Oh, definitely. I have lived here my whole life, I know all there is to know!” You tuck your book back under your arm and step nearer.

“I can show you around! There is more to Montecarra than there looks!” You pause and shrug.

“Well, a little more, at least.” Bucky appears torn for a moment, his face scrunching back into a polite concern as he holds his hands up.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that, signora, I mean, Nina…” You roll your eyes and fold your arms over your chest.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, signore, but there isn’t exactly anybody else my age around here… really you’d be doing me the favour…” He opens his mouth, but you quickly beckon him in a direction before he can argue, and you hear a faint sigh, and a few seconds later he’s matching your easy pace.

“I did notice that, actually…” He confirms, and you feel his gaze on the side of your face. His hands are back in his pockets, and he walks a respectable distance next to you.

“Well, there weren’t all that many to begin with but all the boys went off to fight, and the girls either got married and moved away, or left to study somewhere else.” You try to keep your voice light and airy, try not to betray your jealousy or sadness.

You had wanted to move to Paris and study, or London, anywhere, but the shadows of war had already begun, and it had been too uncertain. Looking back, you were reluctantly glad you had not been elsewhere. Your mother had needed you too much.

You come to another small courtyard, with a large tree at its center. It was one of the oldest in the town, and this part of the village had been built around it, as was obvious from the uneven and cracked stone ground, where the roots had grown large and disruptive.

You sling a hand around the trunk, slowly circling it in a careful swing, and Bucky oddly does the same, moving opposite you, so you are always on different sides. Oftentimes you were called childish or immature by others in Montecarra, though they never meant you harm by it. You were young at heart, and always would be. You know it was not proper for young women your age to be so restless, but you couldn’t sit still. Even just walking normally was a little boring after a while. You think it’s nice that this American man doesn’t ask you to stop or to stand still.

“You didn’t though?” Bucky asks, and then hurries to clarify.

“Get married or move away, I mean.” You chortle and lean a little further forward to see his face better as you both continually circle the tree.

“I was not good enough in school,” You lie.

“And no man would have me.” You laugh as you say it, not really meaning it. When there had been boys around Montecarra, you’d had no shortage of prospects, though how many of them would have actually married you was another question entirely.

Bucky scoffs, making an odd noise in his throat, and he fixes you with a look of disbelief.

“Well I know that can’t be right…” You smile, but look away at his kind words, before another thought hits you, and you stop moving, holding onto either side of the tree as you lean around it slightly.

“Montecarra must be exceptionally boring for you.”

Bucky stops moving too, and instead leans his side against the trunk, arms crossing over his chest as he looks down at you casually, eyebrow raised in question.

“To be in such a small town, with no women who aren’t married. Compared to Paris or Rome, I mean.”

You gasp suddenly then, and quickly switch sides, making Bucky have to turn too, and you can’t suppress your cheeky grin.

“Unless of course it’s married women who you’re after. No need to worry about commitment there.” You wiggle your eyebrows and Bucky’s face turns into a molten mess of amusement and bashfulness, sprinkled with pink cheeks.

He uncrosses his arms awkwardly and clears his throat uncomfortably, and you chortle, shaking your head. There was certainly part of him you could see being charming and suave, but for the most part, Sergeant James Barnes just seemed sweet. Eventually he just laughs too, also shaking his head, and he looks off for a moment, before he carefully turns to mirror your hold on the tree, leaning just slightly around it to look at you.

He still wears a coy look of meekness when he shrugs.

“You’re a woman who isn’t married, aren’t you?” He says softly, carefully, as if he’s not sure how you will respond, and does not wish to offend.

Offence is the last reaction in your mind though, instead you feel as if the world stops for a moment, and all that exists is you, this man, and the tree between you. Despite the carefulness of his words, his expression is a little harder, his gaze locked on yours more intense and you have to force yourself to look away, pulling back from the tree just to catch your breath and your rapidly beating heart.

Perhaps Sergeant James Barnes was sweet, but Bucky Barnes was a little more savoury than that. Suddenly, some of the things you’d read make more sense, and you find yourself reconsidering your interactions. Had he specifically sought you out? Or had he just been wandering and it was a happy coincidence. You lean toward the latter but perhaps he had hoped to see you again after your brief meeting yesterday?

You wipe these thoughts from your mind as Bucky too steps away from the tree, and fix him with an innocent smile and a shrug of your shoulder as you begin stepping backwards, ready to move along.

“I am.” You say simply, unsure of what else you even could say, but the moment seems to pass, and Bucky finally tears his eyes from you, watching his step as he makes to follow you again, down another narrow street.

You make light small talk with him as you move into busier parts of town, still a little shaken from his flirting (if that was what it was). He doesn’t seem to mind, and you realise you don’t need to fill the silence all of the time. He seems content to just look and watch, but when you do speak, to tell him something, or point out a particular shop, he listens carefully.

When you make it to one of the central courtyards of Montecarra, near the fountain where you had met him yesterday, you see that the afternoon sellers have set up at the market stalls where you’d been only this morning, helping sell. Jobs and money were hard to come by in your town, everything was so small and insular, and in the aftermath of the war, people had cared less about money to pay for goods and services, but rather taking care of each other in any way they could.

You were luckier than most towns, you’d been spared the massive damage of other places, but with resources still low, and many people still getting back on their feet, feeding each other had become a community job. Bakers would gladly accept trade for their bread, and doing chores or work for others had become a reliable way to not only give back but to earn too. The shops that had managed to remain open were supportive where they could be, and it made your heart swell several sizes to know that the war had not driven your people apart.

Bucky seems to take in the sights and smells of the markets with a dreamily like gaze, his eyes roaming over the leftover morning breads, some meats and vegetables that had not been bought or traded earlier in the week and where now for sale far cheaper.

Your stomach growls, reminding you that you have not yet eaten since your breakfast, and you groan. Usually you’d have set off home for lunch, or brought something with you, before returning to your nook, but being with Bucky had distracted you.

He looks down at you in response to your groan and you scrunch your nose.

“I would suggest we eat, but I left my purse at home.” You explain. Bucky blinks, and looks over at the food, then back at you.

“If you’re hungry, I can, I have my—” You tune him out accidentally as your mind conjures up a thought, and stop suddenly, reaching out and grabbing Bucky’s arm in excitement. He stops speaking and stares down at you.

“I have a better idea…!” You say, grinning widely, and he cocks his head, looking slightly hesitant.

You release his arm only to grab the rolled sleeve of his shirt, pulling him along after you down a sidetreet.

“What— Where are we going…?” He asks, and then continues.

“And why do I feel like it’s going to be trouble?” You laugh loudly, and throw him a look over your shoulder, releasing his sleeve at last when you’ve led him through a maze of tiny alleys and narrow streets and out to the edge of town, near the main road he’d driven in on.

“Trust me.” You say, drawing out the words long and sing-songy.

“Give me reason to…” He mutters, but when you look over at him again, you can see he’s only playing the part of exasperated, his lips pulled up in the corners, and his eyes amused.

He follows you as you lead him up a long road, well away from town and towards where the fields and fields of orchards and vineyards begin. When you veer off the side of the road, toward one of the wooden fences, he stops.

“What are you doing?” He asks, a little more nervous than before, and you turn to face him fully.

“We’re going into the orchard to pick some fruit.” He fixes you with a squinted stare.

“Something tells me that we’re not supposed to do that…” You roll your eyes.

“Nobody will know. Besides, we’ll only take a few.” You bat your eyelashes the best you can manage and watch his resolve crumble. When he sighs, hanging his head while shaking it, you know you’ve got him, so you smile widely and quickly return to making your way up the fence.

Bucky at first seems concerned with you climb, moving quickly over to attempt to lend you a hand, but you hardly need it, lifting your skirt and easily scaling the posts before you land on the other side. Bucky stares at you for a moment longer, before planting his hands on the top piece of wood, and in one large jump, vaults the thing entirely.

You laugh at the sight, and cock your head.

“They teach you that in the army?” You tease, leading him away from where you might be spotted by the road, and into the thick rows of trees.

“Brooklyn, actually.” He tells you, and you spy him repeatedly looking over his shoulder and around, as if suspecting some kind of ambush. You pause, nearly causing him to walk into you, and put your hand on his arm again.

“Nobody is out here. It gets too hot in the afternoons, so they do all their daily harvesting in the mornings.” Bucky stares down at you, the little crease between his brows returning, but he nods at your words anyway.

Turning away from him, you once more gather up part of your skirt, lifting it well above a decent length, to use as a basket of sorts as you start inspecting some of the goods on ‘offer’.

“The peaches are especially good this time of year.” You say over your shoulder, reaching out to gently squeeze a few hanging from the nearest tree.

“I— What…?” Bucky asks, and when you look back at him, you see the vague pinkness back in his cheeks and refrain from rolling your eyes. Instead, you plaster on an innocent smile and hold up one of the fruits you’d plucked from the branch.

“The peaches. They’re very ripe right now. Montecarra always has the juiciest peaches. You can’t eat them without getting your fingers and mouth all sticky.” You look away then, placing the peach into your skirt and fight yourself to keep from laughing. Bucky remains quiet behind you, until you hear him let out a slightly shaky breath.

“Jesus fucking christ…” He mumbles in English, and you wipe the grin from your face before he can see it, as he finally steps closer to join you.

You end up with a nice collection of peaches, apples and some figs. You don’t take much, just a few, and by the time you’re walking the road back into town, your grumbling stomach is sated. You spent a few hours walking along the rows of trees, just talking and eating.

Before you properly enter Montecarra, Bucky tosses your peach pits, and you watch them fly through the air and disappear into some of the empty fields beyond. He looks down at you with a rather cute, proud and expectant smile, and you nod, clapping just slightly.

“Perhaps they will grow and we will have our own orchard.” You tell him, and he sniffs in amusement.

“Or we’ll have to explain where we got the seeds from in the first place.”

“Or that.” You laugh, nudging his side.

You notice he’d stopped keeping quite as large a distance between you when you walked, though you don’t know if it was conscious or not. The late afternoon sun bathes Montecarra in orange and red and shadows, and by the time you’ve walked across town to where you live, the sunset is well and truly in motion.

Sensing your time has come to an end, Bucky slows slightly, stopping when you turn back to him, and point to your house.

“I live here.” You tell him, and he shoves his hands in his pockets with a nod.

“My mama will expect me to help with dinner.” You explain further, though you aren’t sure why. You didn’t need a reason to part with him, it was early evening now and you’d spent the better half of five hours walking and talking and stealing fruit together.

You see Bucky’s eyes drift behind you, past the open archway of the wall that held your home behind it, and then back to you.

“Thanks for showing me around today. You didn’t have to.” He says and you smile, but shrug.

“Of course.”

You hold his gaze for a moment longer before he nods, pulling a hand from his pocket to give you a parting wave.

“Goodnight.” He says softly, and turns, beginning to make his way back.

You step forward without thinking too much and call out, making him pause and look back at you.

“I— I work in the mornings, but you can always find me at the same place, where I was reading today. From about midday on. I’m always there… if you ever want to see me again.” You try to play it off cooler than you feel, shrugging a bit and giving him a nonchalant grin, but he only watches you.

Just as you start to feel discomfort creep in her shifts, dipping his chin slightly and cocking his head.

“I would like to see you again.” He says at last, and it’s just like earlier, around the tree. You feel a thick tension form between you, and even though he’s several meters away from you now, you feel like he may as well have been directly in front of you.

All you can manage is a nervous chuckle, dropping your eyes to the floor and anxiously tucking some hair behind your ear.

“Okay.” You say, and he must take that as your approval, because he smiles softly, and gives you one last parting nod before he walks away.

You watch him go for longer than you’d like to admit, right up until he disappears and you hear your mama call you from the front door.

—-

You see Bucky most days. After you had finished with your daily workload, you would return as normal to your little archway, only pretending to read until Bucky arrived. Sometimes he would bring his own book, and sit beside you in one of the opposite arches, but most days you spent walking aimlessly, talking about everything and nothing.

He would tell you about New York city, describing the streets and the buildings and the people in such detail you could see it in your mind. He’d show you pictures of places he’d been, other cities and towns in Italy and France and you’d been unable to keep from fawning dramatically over each.

You’d been warned by a few of the older local ladies, that American soldiers were notorious for the dalliances with girls, they’d have them and leave them, moving on to the next place as if it were nothing. But Bucky is different, you think. You weren’t so naive to think a man set on simply chasing what he wanted would change for just you, but Bucky never showed intention to chase. Not really.

He was kind, and sweet, and he never spoke to impress you like you’d seen with some boys before. He listened to you, asked for your opinions on subjects you spoke about and never assumed that you weren’t informed. You had revealed your love for reading to him, and he’d not complained once when you’d ranted for far too long about the plot of your newest book.

He never even tried to hold your hand, which was beginning to trouble you. You had given him plenty of opportunity, walking accidentally too close, and brushing your hand by his just slightly. He’d always apologised or ignored it, and you were becoming frustrated. It was not as if his flirting had stopped, when the opportunity arose he’d coyly spout sweet things that made your stomach churn something awful.

You look up from the page you’d been staring at for the past ten minutes without really seeing it, and blink. Perhaps you were wrong and he was just this way all of the time… but then you remember the moments of intense eye contact when he’d look at you and it felt like nothing else in the world existed at all.

No. no, you decide that perhaps you will have to give him a little push.

“Has d’Artagnan won the heart of Lady Constance yet? Or is love dead?” The voice, his voice, startles you so much you squeak, whipping around to find where Bucky has situated himself against the same wall your archway sits in, leaning on one shoulder with his arms crossed over his chest.

Today he hadn’t changed from his morning’s work, and you have to simply give yourself a moment to take in his uniform. It wasn’t the dress greens you’d seen on men in the newspapers, instead he wears a greeny-brown colour, the material slightly thicker in appearance, rougher almost. In lieu of the long dress coat, he wears a jacket that ends just over where you imagine his belt might be, cinching in his form rather nicely. His shirt bears the same colour as his suit, but his tie is a familiar khaki. Pins and medals and ribbons adorn his chest and you want to inspect each one up close, but you refrain.

“Didn’t mean to scare ya, sweetheart.” He flashes a smile, letting you know he’d noticed your long, admiring stare. Sunglasses cover his own eyes, refusing you access to their cool colour, and you hope he takes them off. Your mouth feels dry but you force yourself to shift to face him, hanging your legs over the side of the wall once more.

“Startled is not scared.” You correct, and watch as he pushes off from the wall casually, making his way to where you sit. He’s tall enough that should he so wish, he could climb into your archway no problem, but he doesn’t, simply resting his folded arms on the ledge next to your legs, looking up at you. At this angle, you can see behind his glasses, to where his eyes fixate on your face.

“You didn’t answer my question?” He probes and you have to think back, unsure of what he’d even asked you.

“Has d’Artagnan won over Lady Constance yet?” He reminds you, reaching out to pluck your copy of The Three Musketeers from your lap and study the cover.

“No, I was going to read more last night but the power went out again and I don’t trust myself not to fall asleep with a candle burning.” You sigh, pushing some hair from your eyes. Bucky places the book gently back down and hums.

“Did you come straight from work?” You ask, switching the subject, and as if he doesn’t notice his clothing, he peeks down at himself briefly, before he cocks his head and gifts you another grin.

“What, can’t a guy wear his uniform around a gal to impress her?” He counters, clearly joking. You scoff anyway and lightly shove his arm.

“I think I’m sick of military uniforms…” You had meant it as a continuation of his joke, but you mean the words far too much to avoid the melancholy that seeps in.

You force yourself to look away, and take a few deep breaths.

Bucky had gotten around to asking you the obvious question of how you, with your brown skin and ‘ethnic’ features, had not suffered during the war. You told him the truth; that your neighbours had hidden you and your mother in attics and basements for nearly five years.

He’d been quiet and pensive on your answer, before telling you he understood why you spent so much time in the ridiculously hot sun. He’d made you laugh, something that you hadn’t ever thought you could do when speaking about your time during the war.

A hand gently, feather-light, curls over your own in your lap, and it takes everything in you not to jump. When you look back at him, his features are sad and serious and he gives your fingers a squeeze.

“Me too, darlin’.”

You want to say something, to maybe turn your hand over and feel his palm against yours, but before you can he removes it from yours, pushing back off the wall.

“I had an idea earlier, when we were clearing the rubble away.” He extends his arm to you, waiting patiently for you to make the short jump down from your perch. Linking your arm with his, he turns you to begin walking, but reaches out and plucks your book from you, tucking it into his jacket.

“An idea? I’m not helping with the mess…” You tease, and he gives you a sideways look.

“No. Riccardo said if I were truly suffering so much in the heat, I should go to the beach.” You perk immediately, gasping softly. You hadn’t been to the beach in so long.

“The beach!” You repeat, and Bucky grins, pride showing clearly through at his effort to delight you.

“I was thinking we could grab my camera, and head on down for the afternoon. I don’t think I have anything to swim in but even just dipping my toes…” You’re already nodding frantically, pulling away from his arm as you clap and do a little jump. You really couldn’t help it, you hadn’t been down to the water in many years.

“Yes! Though, did he tell you how long a walk it was? We should be careful of it getting too dark, my mama has already started—”

“—We can just drive.” Bucky shrugs, and you pause, blinking. Yes, you knew he had a car the army lent him, you’d seen it once or twice even but…

“I’ve…” You trail off and stop speaking entirely, shaking your head, and trying to plaster back on your previous excitement, but Bucky had already seen the slight fall to your face, and he frowns.

“What? What’s wrong?” He steps forward, toward you a little, his hand absently out as if to take your arm, though he drops it a moment later.

“It’s nothing. It’s silly.” You attempt to brush him off but he only moves closer still, right up to you now, and this time, the tension isn’t the same as it had been before.

His head bows down toward you, his frame nearly cocooning yours, if anybody were to be standing behind him, they likely would not be able to see you. His hand does touch your arm this time, comforting, concerned and all of it makes your heart flutter like a million happy butterflies.

“I… It’s just that… I’ve never been in a car before.” You admit, and it really is a silly thing to make such a fuss over. Bucky must breathe a sigh of relief that your dramatics hadn’t been about something more serious, but you don’t see his expression or body language change at all for a few seconds.

“... Ever…?” When he does speak, there’s no amusement in his voice, no awe at how backwards and small your growing up had been that you’d never been in a car. He just… asks.

You shrug.

“We don’t need them here…” His face does relax a little, and he must realise how much he’s been crowding you because he clears his throat and shuffles back slightly, letting his hand leave your arm.

“Well… I think you’ll like it. It’s fast.” He says, before frowning.

“Not— not too fast.” He adds, and you have to smile.

“Well… Why don’t I go put my book away, I’ll find some bread and fixings and you can go change, and I will meet you at your cottage?” You suggest. You didn’t want to go all the way down to the beach without some sort of food, even if he said the trip would be fast in his car. It would also give you a chance to change from your day dress into something that you wouldn’t mind getting a little wet or sandy.

Bucky nods.

“Yeah. Okay. You know where it is?” You roll your eyes.

“Of course.” He hangs his head a little, and lifts his hands in defeat.

“Small town, grew up here. Got it.” You laugh. He’d mentioned once how even though he’d spent his whole life in Brooklyn, knew the streets and the major locations like the back of his hand, there were still places he’d never know where to even start looking for.

You part ways then, and quickly hurry home, the excitement thrumming through your veins once again. Not only were you going to get to go to the beach, but you were going to ride in a car!

You toss your book onto your bed without a second thought, quickly undressing and slipping on a lighter, older dress. It’s faded pale blue told it’s age, but the fabric was thinner, meaning you would have no problem if it got wet. You decide not to bother with stockings, removing both them and your garter in favour of feeling the sand with your bare feet instead, and slip your shoes back on.

Before you leave your bedroom, you catch sight of yourself in the mirror and pause. Turning your face from side to side, you inspect your features carefully. You never bothered with makeup, it was expensive and you’d only end up sweating it off, but your eyes do linger on your lips for a moment.

Creeping upstairs, you sneak into your mother’s bedroom. She was out for coffee at one of your neighbours, still, you feel nervousness take hold when you find the small golden tube in her drawer. Taking a deep breath, you uncap the lipstick and lean forwards for a better view, before carefully swiping the deep red colour across your lower lip. You follow suit with the upper, fixing it here and there, and swiping to try and neaten it up, but when you stand back to inspect yourself, you groan in frustration.

You didn’t want to look like you were trying too hard, and your painted lips and bareface didn’t communicate that at all. Grabbing a tissue, you quickly work to remove the makeup, rubbing at your lips until the bulk of the colour is off. However, when you stop to check again, you find the red has somewhat stained your skin. It only really adds a subtle flushed red over your usually brown lips, but it's still noticeable, and you panic, grabbing another tissue and trying again to no avail.

Time ticks by and you check your watch, not wanting to make Bucky wait too long, and so you pocket the stained tissues and take a last look in the mirror. Your shoddy clean up job would have to do. At least the stains were on your lips and not around them.

In the kitchen you gather up a small selection of items in a basket, just some bread and butter and homemade jam, and tuck an old blanket over the top to secure it all, and so that you could sit on it later. Checking everything one last time, you slide the basket to the crook of your arm and close up your house behind you.

You have to stop yourself from skipping as you make your way through the streets, smiling and greeting those who pass you politely and not like a mad woman. By the time you make it to Bucky’s little cottage, you can already see him leaning back against the car, waiting. He straightens when he sees you, smiling as you slow down, feeling almost hesitant about approaching the car.

“Here, lemme take this…” You let him grab the basket from you and watch him open one of the back doors, placing it on the floor, behind a seat. When he shuts the door again with a click, he turns to look at you in a both expectant and patient manner.

“Shall we?” He gestures to the other side of the car, and you let him lead you around it, swallowing as he pulls open the front side door for you.

“There you go. You know, you’re lucky this is your first car ride. This is a nice car, apparently.” You let Bucky take your hand to help you in, and for the few seconds after he’s shut your door behind you, and you see him jog around to the driver’s seat, you feel an immense awkwardness settle over you.

When he’s climbed in beside you, he gestures to something above your head.

“Here, that’s your seat belt. I know a lotta people don’t bother with them, but… better safe than sorry, right?” You nod, and reach out to grab the little buckle, not realising that the sun had been baking the metal since it had come up.

You rip your fingers away from it with a hiss, cradling them to your chest. Bucky jerks and is immediately leaning over to help you.

“Shit! Sorry, I— I forgot to tell you to be careful of the— here, look, you gotta grab the plastic part…” Your slightly burnt fingers are all but forgotten when Bucky leans right over you, directly into your space as he pulls at the belt, drawing it down and across your body, to your hip.

You watch him click the buckle together and blink up at him when he leans back, face still pulled in a wince.

“You okay?”

“Yes… I just wasn’t expecting it… it didn’t really hurt that much…” He looks like he wants to say something more, his eyes darting down to where you lower your hand back to your lap, and your face, but he eventually settles with a nod.

“Okay. Okay.” He repeats, twisting to face frontwards in his seat again as he begins readying the car. You watch him fiddle with the keys, jumping slightly when the engine roars to life all around you, but you only chuckle at the look Bucky sends you. He lifts one hand from the wheel, to hold onto a tall gear stick in the center console, shifting it a few times before you feel the car begin to move.

Despite your nerves, you can’t help but feel the excitement in your bones, and as Bucky starts to slowly drive along the outer roads of the town, toward the western most side, you can’t stop yourself from staring out the window.

It wasn’t as if you’d never seen any of these places before, but it felt different now. You feel Bucky’s eyes flick over to you every so often, a low chuckle you can barely hear above the car reaching you, but you’re too enthralled to do more than return his smile briefly.

You settle down a bit as you hit the main road. It's still a very new experience to be moving so quickly down a road you’d only ever been along at a walk. Bucky seems content in the quiet, but about halfway through the trip, he changes his hand on the steering wheel, to reach down for something on the side of his door. You watch him fumble for a moment, before he behinds winding a little lever, and you turn your gaze to where the window now rolls down, filling the car with fresh air and the sound of light wind.

“You’ve got one too,” He briefly takes his eyes from the road to point your own window lever out to you, and excitedly, you rush to unwind it. You laugh then, like a child, and lean forward to get a better view, to feel the wind blow over your face. It doesn’t last long though, the second you feel your hair get thrown about, you yip, ducking away with another laugh, but attempting to smooth back your hair again.

Bucky grins over at you, and he shuffles, keeping one hand on the steering wheel, resting his elbow on the window frame casually. With his spare hand, he rests it on his thigh, fingers tapping.

“Lotta women wear a scarf, to keep their hair from getting wrecked…” He tells you, and you make a note for if you ever ride in the car again.

“You were right.” You tell him, finally sitting back in your seat and relaxing. Bucky cocks his head, briefly glancing at you, but mostly he keeps his eyes forward.

“Hmn?”

“I do like this.”

You arrive at the beach in no time at all, the lone western road leading right down to the water. Bucky brings the car to a stop away from the road, on a patch of grass that separates the rest of the land from the sand dunes. On your right, some ways away, the land lifts, creating a rocking cliffside that encloses this section of beach neatly. You knew from your childhood that there were some caves accessible, but you’d always been told to stay well away.

Bucky grabs the basket from the backseat, and you wait for him to catch up with you before you begin treading down onto the sand. The sand is hot and pale, and the smell of sea water calls you, but as much as you’d love to throw yourself toward it, you direct Bucky to a small cropping of rocks and boulders that rested near the dunes, far enough back that the incoming tide wouldn’t reach them, but near enough to the water to be sure your things would be kept safe.

Bucky follows your lead as you kick your shoes off, climbing to the top of the largest boulder easily, it's jagged surface perfect for climbing, as long as you didn’t step on a spike. The boulder stands almost up to Bucky’s chest, and was quite large from a top side view. You beckon him to give you your basket and he watches as you quickly lay out the blanket. When he can see you settling, he joins you, scaling the rock quickly, and taking a seat beside you, where you’ve now begun to pull the bread and spreads from the basket.

“This is a nice spot.” He says scanning the horizon critically. You see his gaze turn up towards the nearby cliffs, scrutinizing them thoroughly with slightly squinted eyes. His face is so intense, you can’t help but look too, wondering what it was he was seeing, but when you turn back to him, he snaps out of it, plastering an easy smile on his face.

You open your mouth to question what he’d been looking at when he grabs the jame, and turns it over in his hands.

“Homemade?” He asks, clearly excited by the prospect, and even though you still want to know what he’d just been thinking about, you let it go, recognising a subject change when you saw one.

“Yes. My mama is very good at cooking. She cooks a lot for other people.” You tell him, buttering a thick slice of bread before handing it to him.

“Do you?” He puts the jam down as he takes the bread and a butter knife from you, beginning to spread some of the sweet, jellied fruit. You scrunch your nose.

“I don’t cook a lot. Mama says I should do more.” You roll your eyes and Bucky snorts.

“Why?”

“So that when I get married my husband won’t be displayed… or something.” You bring one of your legs to a bent position, like you were crossing your legs but only chose to do one, and shift your center of balance to be more comfortable.

The blanket was a nice touch, but it didn’t make the rock you sat on any more homey.

“I don’t understand… why women have to do so much to keep a man. If they love you, shouldn’t they not care about how well you cook or how clean your house is?” You glance at him, genuinely asking. Bucky was, as you well knew, a man, he may have insight you did not. He frowns, mulling over his thoughts as he chews his mouthful.

“I think some guys want a housekeeper more than a partner. I don’t think a lot of mother’s help that, either.” It’s your turn to frown and you cock your head, gesturing he go on. He adjusts a little, and looks off as he speaks, only glancing back at you a few times as he explains.

“It’s a cycle, right? A lady gets married, she looks after her husband, they have kids, a boy and a girl,” He pauses, takes a small bite, chews, swallows and continues.

“Now, as the girl gets older, mother starts to prepare her for when she’ll get married, so she takes on some of the household chores. The son however, he gets looked after right up until he leaves the nest. His food is cooked for him, his room is cleaned, his clothes washed…” You start understanding what he means, and nod slowly.

“By the time he’s serious about looking for a girl, he thinks they should be how his ma and pa were. I’m sure there’s love and affection, but in his mind, if she’s not doing those same things he grew up with, then how much can she really love him?” He ends with a shrug, looking at you, and you have to admit you’re genuinely surprised by his honest point of view.

But he sits up a little straighter then, and points to himself with the bread still in his hand.

“My mother would never let me get away with that.” He tells you solemnly, and you chortle at his deeply serious, over the top expression.

“Oh?”

“No ma’am. When I was sixteen she showed me how to use the machines at the laundromat, and if my room wasn’t spick and span at the end of the week I’d get it.” You laugh at the thought of a woman with Bucky’s same eyes making him remake his bed.

“And cooking?” You press, and Bucky shrugs again.

“I grew up watching her cook, helping her in the kitchen… I ain’t sayin’g I’m good. But I wouldn’t starve.” You laugh again, his stories uplifting on your general view of how things were ‘Supposed To Be’.

“Anyway, the point is, the only thing that makes a good husband or wife is that you care about one another. Everything else is negotiable.” You grin, and nod, look out at the water as he words sink in, before you sharply side eye him.

“Everything except fidelity. I’d cut off my man’s—” You cut yourself off before you can say too much, but Bucky has already begun howling with laughter, leaning all the way back to rest on his elbows, he places a hand to his chest as he guffaws gleefully.

When he calms down, still snickering quietly he nods several times to himself and gives you a look.

“I don’t doubt you for a second, sweetheart.” Your chest flutters again at not just the pet name, he’d taken to using various ones, but the softness in his voice when he says it. It makes you nervous, it makes your stomach feel like the rolling waves of the ocean before you are happening simultaneously in there too.

“Right, well. Let's cool off, huh?”

Bucky rolls his pant legs up to just above his knees before he treads into the shallows, and you lift your skirt just a little as you join him. You wallow about in the water for some time, talking about nothing in particular. At one point, he realises he’d left his camera in the car, and races back up to get it, returning with a piece of photo paper already developing in his fingers.

“Took one from the dunes. It’s a nice view.” He explains as you lean over to peer at the little print. You can make out your figure, distant in the photo.

Bucky takes several more pictures, of the cliffs, of the long expanse of shoreline on the other side… You let him be for a while, moving back up to the rock and the blanket, perching yourself on the edge as you just take in the cool sea breeze and watch Bucky move about, deeply focused.

It was sweet really, though you don’t know how many of the shots look the same.

The warm sun and your general relaxed mood lull you to lie back, fixating your gaze on the blue skies and clouds above. Your skin grows warm and a little moist under such direct sunlight, but it feels nice. You aren’t sure how long you lie there for, you even doze off for a little bit, but some time later, you hear Bucky approaching.

“Can I take your picture?” He asks as you sit up, shielding your eyes for a moment as you do.

“Me?”

“Yeah.” You want to protest that he shouldn’t waste his photo paper on you, but he’s already stepping back and bringing the camera up to check if he’s too close or far.

“Wait, let me move.” You tell him, shifting to sit side on, with your feet on the rock and your knees bent up, like you would sit in your reading nook. Bucky waits for you like you ask, adjusting a little notch on his camera before he lifts it back to his eye, peering through. You expect him to take the photo right away but instead you see his lips part and his tongue swipe out to wet them as he swallows and draws the device away again.

“Uh, your— your skirt sweetheart, it's…” He trails off and gestures at his own thigh, prompting you to glance down at yourself.

Oh.

With your legs up like this, and perhaps with the help of a little sea breeze, your dress had shifted far up the length of your leg, far more than what was proper or should be photographed, and yet, your mind begins to whir.

You cock your head innocently, and hook your finger under the hem, drawing it back even further, until almost the whole side of your leg was on display. As you do, you pop your shoulder forward and rest your chin on it, grinning widely, invitingly.

Bucky just stares for several moments, and you see him swallow again. He seems to fumble with bringing the camera back to his face, and you see his mouth in what you’re certain is English cussing. It only makes your grin that much wider.

He takes the picture, lowering the camera immediately to catch the photo it spits out, though, he keeps glancing back up at you. You only flutter your eyelashes as best you can and make sure to fix your skirt somewhat. You sit forward again, and rest your hands either side of your legs, leaning toward where Bucky still stands.

“May I see?” You ask, and he jerks, starting toward you right away.

“Y--yeah. Of course…” You note with a quiet snicker how he stands at least two feet away from you when he holds out the photograph, and you take it from him, inspecting it.

“This is a good one.” You tell him.

“Yep. Yeah. It is.” He’s aware you’re teasing him now, and you give him a smile over the top of the picture.

“You won’t throw it away?”

“Why… why the hell would I throw it away?” You shrug and hold it out to give back.

“I don’t know…”

Bucky reaches out for it, but just before he can take it from you, you pull it back.

“On second thoughts, I don’t know if you can be trusted with this.” His face resembles a rain cloud, his frown confused and deep.

“What?”

“I think it might end up in the bottom of a box somewhere… I should keep it.” Your lip quirks, and he can see the cogs turning as he realises you’re only playing. He rolls his eyes and goes to grab it from you again, but you pull it away again.

Before he can corner you where you sit, you jump off the rock, ducking to the side as he lunges, making you squeal.

“Come on, sweetheart, let me have it…” You keep moving backwards, even as you turn to face him, the photo clutched to your chest. Bucky has turned to pursue you, though he’s only walking, hands on his hips.

“You’ll have to catch me!” You take off running, unable to keep from laughing as you do, Bucky’s own chortling reaching you as he gives chase.

You duck and weave out of his reach, and even though he’s far bigger and fitter than you, you were smaller, and the drag of the sand didn’t affect you as much. He almost gets you twice, his fingers grazing your dress, and when he does finally catch you, it’s with his arms around your middle, seizing you mid stride and pulling you back.

The momentum sends you both tumbling to the sand, your back hitting it lightly. Bucky falls over you, though he catches himself before he can crush you proper. All you can do is laugh, breathless from the chase and from the fall, and most certainly from the fact Bucky now lays atop you.

He’s laughing too, his face close and his breathe warm. He shifts to lift one hand and pluck the photo from your fingers, still held to your chest, trapped their by his own body. He’s still smiling when he makes a show of placing the photo in his top pocket, and buttoning it close, and then he drops his hand, resting it back in the sand by your head.

“I caught you.” He says simply, and all you can do is nod dumbly. His eyes fall to your mouth, and you suddenly remember the lipstick debacle. You’re about to make an excuse, or explain what had happened, when he leans in, dropping his lips to your own softly. You don’t mean to, but you gasp quietly, heat pooling in your face when you feel Bucky smile, and hear his light chuckle.

He doesn’t stop though, and you gladly return the kiss at last, lifting your chin so he could reach you easier or have more of you, you don’t know. Bucky shifts over you, his knee digging into the sand as he lifts some of his weight off of you, but before you can complain, he’s holding your face, tilting your head and deepening the kiss.

When you part, reluctantly, you’re all too aware of how heavy you’re breathing, your chest rising and falling rapidly. Bucky’s eyes drop to watch for a moment, and you feel goosebumps crawl over your skin, but he looks away, moving to get off of you.

“Uhm… that okay?” He asks, scratching the back of his head a little awkwardly. You’re still just lying in the sand, watching him and trying to catch your breath.

He stands, and leans down to offer you a hand that you accept. You let him pull you to your feet, and by that time you’ve gotten at least a semblance of your sanity back. He’s looking at you cautiously, concerned maybe, but you intend to rectify that.

He hardly has time to catch you as you jump for him, legs wrapped around his middle, your arms around his neck, Bucky lets out a loud, hearty laugh as he makes to secure his hold on you. You lean in and kiss him again, heated at first, but then softer, until you’re only peppering little pecks to his lips.

“I’m gonna go with that being okay, then.” He confirms to himself. You giggle, like a schoolgirl with a crush, and realise he’d been walking the whole time he’d been carrying you. He sets you down atop the rock, hands gliding under where he’d been holding your legs, before quickly removing them, like he didn’t want to overstep.

“You had better not lose that picture.” You warn, making him chuckle, and pat his pocket.

“Oh, trust me darlin’. It’s not going anywhere.”

The sun had already begun to set, and so you make quick work of packing up the small amount of belongings you brought. As you walk back to the car, Bucky carries the basket in one arm, and with the other, he reaches out to take your hand, firmly and securely, interlocking your fingers, and you feel your whole being ascend.

He doesn’t let go of your hand in the car either, reaching out to hold it there too, your intertwined hands resting on your thigh. It’s all too short however, and far too soon he’s parking the vehicle and helping you out.

“I’ll walk you back.” He tells you and you frown.

“What? No, you’re already home, I can—”

“—I’ll walk you back.” He says again, firmer, but with a playfulness that stops you from arguing further.

You wait for him to get your basket from the backseat, and when he does join you around at the rear of the car, his face lights up in realisation.

“Oh! Wait. Hold this for a sec…” He gently thrusts the basket into your hands and you blink, watching him jog into the cottage.

He reappears a few minutes later, carrying something long and cylindrical in his hand, and as he approaches you again, he flips it, catching it smoothly.

“Flashlight. For… for if your power goes out again…” He drops it in your basket before he takes it from you again, and you’re so genuinely touched by the gesture you’re frozen for a few seconds.

“Sweetheart?” Bucky frowns, cocking his head, but you snap out of it, leaning in to wrap your arms around his neck, only a hug this time. His free arms wraps around you instantly, and you aren’t sure you’ll ever get over how nice it feels to be held.

“Thank you. That’s very kind…” You say when you pull back. He just smiles at you, before offering you his arm, and walking you home.

—-

He takes you on a picnic.

It’s such a quaint idea that when he mentions it to you one afternoon, after kissing you goodbye on your doorstep, you can’t help but feel your eyes light up like two cartoonish hearts.

Bucky had assured you he would source the meal and perhaps some wine, but he’d need your basket once more, and the next day you find yourself lounging lazily under the shade of a tree, in the empty fields outside of town.

He’d brought bread, fruit and a bottle of red wine that you’d be very excited by right up until you’d had your first taste.

Bucky burst out in laughter at your expression, nose scrunched and brow furrowed, and he gracefully takes your glass from your hand.

“It’s alright, sweetheart, it's an acquired taste…” He chortles, and you gladly let him pour what's left of your drink into his own, but you notice he doesn’t really touch it throughout lunch.

You talk for hours, clearing up the blanket so you can lie down next to one another and gaze at the cloudy blue sky. You ask Bucky to tell you once more about New York City, and as he speaks you gaze at him, gesturing wildly with his hands and smiling back at you every so often.

He was so pretty, for a boy, his eyes so blue, hair dark and lovely and smooth looking. Even his stubbly chin and cheeks, where you could clearly see he’d shaved just this morning look nice, and without really thinking, you reach out and brush the backs of your fingers over his jaw.

Bucky stops speaking, turning his head slightly to regard you softly, but you don’t stop. From the way he spoke about the war and missing his home, you think maybe it has been a while since he’d felt such gentle touches.

“See somethin’ you like, darlin’?” His smirk is barely a smirk, it's far too soft for that, but there’s still a hint of cheekiness in his gaze that draws you in. Laughing quietly, you rise to your elbow, leaning into his side where he’d previously been lying a respectable distance from you and press your lips to his jaw, then his cheek, and at last his lips.

Bucky kisses you back immediately, like he always did, lips moving softly against your own, carefully cupping the side of your face and pulling you down against him even further. Your heart races when he sits up without breaking apart from you, pushing you back so your positions are reversed. Out here you were practically alone, and even if somebody did come driving down the main road, with the tall grass nobody would be able to see you.

You wrap your hands up behind his head, tugging him down more, until he’s leaning against you fully, his forearms encasing either side of your head, a knee slipping between your own as your tongue slips between his lips. Your nearly come apart thena nd there when he moans, muffled by your kiss, but erotic all the same, and he seems to move more feverishly, kissing your quicker, bearing down against you harder.

You resist the urge to wrap a leg around him, but instead let your fingers scratch gently at the back of his neck, feeling yourself sink further and further into bliss with each tiny stroke of his tongue against yours, and each press of his clearly hardening length between your thighs.

You almost unhook your hands from his neck to lift your dress when he pulls back. At first he simply lays his forehead against your own, his eyes shut tight, and you watch him with rising disappointment and heavy breathing as he gently shifts his weight off of you, and dips his lips to kiss the tip of your nose, and then chastley at your lips.

“I uh… this probably isn’t a good idea…” You deflate, but push it aside. If he did not wish to go further, you wouldn’t pressure him. Still, the gentle ache between your thighs resists, begging for friction, for satisfaction. Bucky looks down at you, lips kissed raw and pupils dilated and it takes everything in you not to go for his pants then and there. He smooths down what he can of your hair, tucking some wilder pieces behind your ear before he kisses your nose again, and lays back down beside you.

On the walk back, the both of you are oddly silent, and although it isn’t uncomfortable, you still don’t like the awkwardness. You always felt like you could be truthful with Bucky, and you didn’t want to change that now, so tugging on his hand a little you slow your pace.

“I would have had sex with you, you know?” You squint at him and he blinks rapidly, face blushing quickly as he checks around to make sure there was nobody else present.

“Wha— I wasn’t—”

“—I’m not a virgin. I know what I’m doing.” You further assert, and he only continues to cough awkwardly, trying to reign in his clear embarrassment.

“Men aren’t the only ones who like sex. You always think us women are so eager to wait and ‘save ourselves’.” You roll your eyes then, and walk past him.

You don’t look back, but soon enough he’s hurrying to fall in beside you once more, taking your hand again even as he swallows.

“I never said you were, I just… I guess I’m not used to ladies talkin’ about it so… well, at all…” You side-eye him wryly and shrug.

“Look around, Bucky. In a town this small, there isn’t much else to do except each other. But all the boys have left now…” You shrug again, and this time Bucky laughs, letting out a slow puff of air.

“I guess.” He wears a look on his face like he wants to say something else, but he stays quiet. You slow down as you approach your home, and you’re about to ask when he stops just short of the steps leading into your front courtyard, and takes both your hands.

“I guess I wouldn’t want to take advantage. I’d want you to be sure.”

You purse your lips and roll your eyes again.

“I’m not a naive little girl.”

He laughs again and draws you near, quickly checking about to make sure no neighbour would spy the kiss he presses to your lips.

“And I’m not a boy.” The words send a thrill up your spine, and now more than ever you wish he hadn’t pulled away earlier. You swallow as he looks down at you, eyes intense and fiery and this time it’s your turn to swallow.

“I— I know…” You manage, and for a moment you can’t stop staring at one another.

Eventually, Bucky squeezes your hands and nods his head toward your home.

“You’d better—”

“—Oh! Yes… Goodnight…”

Bucky watches you as you make your way to your door and tips his hat when you look back at him before you close it.

“Goodnight.”

—-

Bucky can’t sleep.

It's late, he really should have been asleep hours ago, but he can’t stop thinking about you and what you’d said. As much as he curses himself for not seeking out the moment when he’d had you under him in the field, he’s also glad. You deserved more than a quick rut on a picnic blanket, and yet his mind wanders to Parisian nights, except all the women in his memories are replaced with you.

Would you be loud? Quiet? Would you say his name, drawn out and breathy? He decides he wants to find out.

It takes him no time at all to walk to your house, and when he’s climbed the side wall of the enclosed courtyard into the back garden, he sneaks on around to the open window on the first floor.

Surprisingly, you were either far from asleep yourself, or you had been suspecting his visit. You sit up in bed right away, but smile and hold a finger to your lips as you creep across to the window. Bucky leans against it comfortably, holding your hand when you half climb through to sit on the sill, legs dangling out beside him.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, though your demeanour seems to be far more girlish, far more pleased-but-scandalised than you had been earlier, talking so frankly about sex. Bucky gives you his best smile and shrugs.

“Wanted to see you. What’re you doing awake?” He nods to your bed, the book and torch clearly lying amidst your sheets.

“I was reading.”

“I can go if you’d—”

“—No!” You whisper, socking him lightly in the shoulder, as if it were a ridiculous thought to even suggest he leave. In the moonlight he thinks you look lovelier than ever, and he scoots closer, until he’s resting his arms across your thighs and gazing up at you softly.

“We have to talk quietly though, my mother’s room is above mine and her window is also open…” You point, and Bucky looks, see’s the curtains billowing slightly out, and he nods.

“I’d let you in, but I think you might dissolve into a blush.” You tease him, and Bucky immediately perks, eyes lighting up at the challenge. He pulls his arms off of your lap and cocks his head.

“Well I’m here, aren’t I?” He asks slowly, letting a hand gently curve up your calf. Your nightdress covers you from the knee up, but he ignores it, reaching underneath to massage softly at your thigh.

You don’t take your eyes off of him, even when he lowers his gaze to carefully push your knees apart. If anything you seem to lean back on your palms, watching him intently. Bucky meets your eye again when he snakes his hand further, forgoing your leg entirely to press the pads of his fingers against your core, eliciting a sharp inhale from the both of you.

“You don’t wear underwear to bed?” He can’t help but ask, pants suddenly restrictively tight and you breathe out slowly, clearly trying to remain quiet as he lets his fingers simply glide through you slick.

“Only when I’m expecting company.” You tell him, and he chortles, stepping closer and pressing his lips to yours.

Your head angles back for him, letting him set the pace of the kiss and gently, Bucky presses one finger inside. You almost gasp, but he kisses you harder, pulling back again just slightly, so your lips brush when he speaks.

“Gotta be quiet, remember?” You nod vigorously, eyes not even opening to meet his, and Bucky leans back further, content to watch your head lull back and mouth part in the softest breathiest moans he’s ever heard as he slowly pumps his one finger in and out of you.

He’s laser focused on the task at hand, even despite his rock hard cock, and soon he’s adding another finger, slowly letting them sink deep into your velvety wet heat, his pride stoked when you further part your legs for him. He uses his free hand to push your nightdress up around your hips, and he nearly groans at the sight. Licking his lips he sets his eyes back on you, leaning in to nip and kiss at your neck, finally letting his thumb press down against your clit, massaging in circles as slow as his strokes, and he feels your muscles flutter.

A third finger joins the others and this time you seem to reactively grip his wrist, your other hand flying to slap over your mouth as your brow furrows deeply. Bucky knows he’s breathing hard, and after adjusting himself briefly in his pants, he pulls at the thin straps of your nightdress, getting it only half down one shoulder, but it’s enough.

He wraps his lips around your exposed nipple, swirling his tongue and nipping experimentally, feeling your hand wrap around the back of his head in approval. He stares up at you, desperately wanting to see your face when he finally pulls you apart and he’s rewarded only a few minutes later, his fingers fucking you far quicker, his thumb working faster.

When you finish, your cunt squeezes his digits relentlessly in waves of pleasure, and you make strained, soft little mewls as you attempt to remain quiet. Your hips shift and twitch and he doesn’t draw away from your breast until you’re blinking back down at him, gently pulling his hand away from your clit with bashful little laughs.

“At least… at least I won’t have to change any bedsheets…” You pant, and Bucky chuckles, leaning forward to kiss your lips properly, feeling your naked chest heave against his when he does. Your eyes seem dazed, and your face warm, but when he pulls away again you swallow and gesture to his own clearly bulging pants.

“I can—”

“—Not tonight…” And he means it.

“I just wanted… I just wanted to see you.” He says, and your gaze shifts from purely lustful to something softer, and you smile, dipping your eyes away for a second.

Bucky takes the moment to enjoy his view, your dress pulled up to your hips, your pussy still clearly on display, and your sleeves hanging well down to your elbows, breasts bare, nipples hardened and exquisite. He fights the urge to reach out and start all over again, maybe get his mouth on you this time…

“S’alright?” He rests his head in his palm and you chortle quietly, nodding.

“Yes. Yes, better than… than anything with other boys before…” He gets the feeling you aren’t just saying that to stroke his ego, the blissed out look on your face and the oddly bashful demeanour you’ve taken on requiring him to believe that he really had just properly blown your mind. He grins triumphantly, and leans in again, kissing your lower lip.

“I told you I wasn’t a boy.” He kisses you full again, loving the feel of your hand reaching up to hold the back of his head to you.

“I know.” You say when he forces himself back. You watch him as he carefully pulls up the sleeves of your shirt, covering you up again, and then fixes the skirt too, until you’re mostly modest.

“You should get some sleep, sweetheart.” He tells you, and you hum, reluctantly climbing back through your window and standing on the other side. He kisses the back of your hand, but when he goes to pull away, you don’t release your hold on him, tugging him back slightly, and he blinks at you curiously.

Your eyes have taken on that same lustful expression from before and you cock your head.

“Will you think of me?” You ask, and at first, it doesn’t quite click.

“When you wrap your hand around your cock when you get home, will you think of me?” Bucky nearly chokes, nearly climbs right through your window and ends all the tension there and then, but he manages to hold strong, realising you were still somewhat teasing him.

“Darlin’ I will think of nothing but you, soaking wet and waiting for me…” He squeezes your fingers slightly, noting the approval in your eyes even before you nod.

“Okay.”

“Goodnight.”

“It has been, yes.” You finally let him go, watching as he clambers quietly back over your side wall.

And Bucky does think of you when he gets home, he strokes himself to the thought of your mouth and your cunt, and your tits bouncing in his face while he has you on his lap. It’s honestly the filthiest his mind has been since Paris nights drowned in alcohol and women he didn’t bother to get the names of. He knows your name though, sighs it again and again as he thinks of you.

He falls asleep hard and wakes up in the morning the same way, unable to stop thinking about you.

—-

In the days following Bucky’s midnight visit, you feel a giddy sort of happiness thrum constantly through your veins. Even now, as you sit up in your archway, trying to focus your mind on the letter you write to your distant aunt (you think you’ve met her all of once, but she’d written to you and your mother regarding your health and wellbeing in the aftermath of the war, so you felt obliged to reply). You find yourself able to write only several lines before you’d look up, searching, hoping perhaps Bucky would show, but even you know it’s too early… he’d still be working.

Part of you debates going to watch, the idea of seeing him labouring away in the hot sun, hopefully with his shirt removed, leaving him in only a singlet top… your stomach stirs at the thought, but you shake your head, and concentrate harder on your letter.

You manage to succeed too, losing yourself in describing Montecarra to your relative who’d never once left England, as she’d explained. It isn’t until some time later that movement catches at the corner of your eye, and you barely refrain from looking up as Bucky finally ambles into the courtyard. He must sense your buys-ness, because he doesn’t greet you as he nears, he just stops for a moment, before he continues forward.

At first you think he may approach you to wait, but instead he swiftly climbs into the open archway behind you. You take the time to pause in your own actions to peek at what he’s doing, only to find him sitting in mirror of you, his back to the same pillar yours is. After he settles he twists back and nudges your arm.

“Got any spare paper, darlin’?”

You try to pretend you hadn’t been watching him, but his grin says you’ve been caught out. Gathering a few pages from under your small stack, you hand them back to him, his fingers over your far too suspect for you to think it is anything other than purposeful. Still, you can’t help but smile, even as you settle back to finish off your letter, hearing him uncap a pen.

You find yourself referring back to your aunt’s letter to answer and reply to all of her questions and queries, and once again you almost forgot Bucky is there, until tugging on your sleeve draws you out of your reverie. You turn to look, expecting to be greeted with his lovely face, but instead, all you see is his hand, holding a page folded into a little rectangle.

Your chest flutters at the thought he’d been sitting writing something for you, and so your letter is quickly abandoned in favour of taking the little note. Bucky seems to remain as if he were oblivious to his own actions, humming quietly to himself as you unfold the paper and gaze down at the words.

‘Would you like to have dinner with me tonight?’

Again, your heart stutters, and you can’t hide your smile as you put pen to paper, drawing up your response. You refold it and hand it back the same way he’d offered it to you; tugging on his sleeve and holding it out. The page is plucked from your fingers quickly, and you try to distract yourself by turning back to your true task, only to be pulled from this once more when his hand reaches back, searching. You watch for a moment before he wiggles his fingers expectantly and you snicker, adjusting your hold on your paper, so that you can place your hand in his own.

You sit there like that for the rest of the afternoon, Bucky humming happily, your hands interlocked at an almost awkward angle, and you try your hardest to finish writing your damned letter.

He picks you up from your home later that evening, finds you waiting for him out the front. You hadn’t dressed up in a long time, and so when his gait slows and his eyes roam over you as he approaches, you can’t help but feel self-conscious.

You’d worn a simple red dress, but it was the nicest one you owned, the only one appropriate for dinner out. This time you’d committed to the lipstick, painted your lips red and done your best not to talk yourself out of it. You’d left your hair down, let it fall in loosely styled waves, and all together you felt part-movie star, part-fool.

Bucky whistles lowly, just quietly as he nears, and you have to scoff and roll your eyes, hiding your embarrassment as he draws you in, hugging you just quickly before he pulls back, hands on your waist still, to inspect you closer.

“You look beautiful.” He tells you, voice soft and sweet and you know he isn’t pontificating, or trying to woo you.

“Thank you.” You reach out to smooth over his collar and finally force yourself to meet his eye.

“You look lovely, too.”

You feel lost in a slight high as you walk to the only real restaurant in town, in the main square. In the early evening the streets are quiet, only the occasional passerby, but the cafe remains open, seeing to a few quiet patrons, plus yourselves out on the terrace.

Bucky helps you with your chair and takes your order for you, pours you your drink… it's so normal and yet you’d never really experienced an evening like it. When your food is long gone, he scoots his chair around to sit closer to you and holds your hand softly in his while you talk aimlessly. You aren’t at all worried about being seen or judged, in fact the few moments in which you catch a passing couple take a look at you, you see kind eyes and sweet smiles, only making you feel dizzier.

“You enjoyed your meals, I see?” The owner, an older man named Matteo who you’d known to live in Montecarra for as long as you can remember, stops by to clear up your plates, and you nod enthusiastically.

“Wonderful, we’ll have to come back.” Bucky says, squeezing your fingers as Matteo smiles widely and agrees.

“Maybe next time I will have figured out how to work this named record player, then you will have music as well!” You and Bucky both seem to perk as Matteo throws a thumb over his shoulder, and Bucky straightens in his chair slightly.

“I can give it a look, if you’d like?” He offers, eyes already glued to the record player sitting atop the counter only a few meters away. The older man gives him a shrug and a gesture that clearly reads as ‘go for it’, as he finishes collecting the plates and patters back off to the kitchen.

You watch Bucky move over to the counter, fiddling with the player, though you can’t really see what he does. You know he’s fixed it however, when he throws a grin back at you, and plucks a record from beside the machine, pulling it from it’s sleeve and carefully placing it down on the turntable.

Music immediately begins wafting through the air, an upbeat tune you think you’d heard on the radio before, and Bucky comes speeding back over to you, hands held out even as he pulls you from your seat.

“Dance with me?” He asks, though he’s already wrapping his arm around your waist, and you move yours to his shoulder and hand respectively. There isn’t much room between the tables on the sidewalk, and although the song is happy, it’s not a rousing jazz tune, so you find yourselves simply swaying in each others embrace as the French lyrics begin to join the band.

You end up close, so close you forget anything else exists around you, Bucky’s forehead pressed against your own, your chests similarly compressed, as if neither of you could exist apart.

You have to laugh, thoroughly intrigued and enthralled when he begins softly singing the words to the song. It’s so different to hear him speak in a language that wasn’t Italian or English and it makes your chest ache for a reason you don’t know.

“I wish I could speak French.” You say quietly, Bucky’s lips quirk up but you shake your head.

“You must be so amused by how quaint I am… never been in a car, never left my town… never learnt any languages…” You don’t mean to sound so melancholy, but it hits you then, the ache in your heart stems from just how wonderful Bucky is, and how plain you are in comparison. But he’s frowning as you finish, shaking his head and adjusting his grip on you, wrapping you up even further.

“Never. I think you’re worldy in other ways…”

Your purse your lips, but as he opens his mouth to continue you cut him off, changing the subject.

“Can you tell me about New York again?”

Bucky’s expression falters, then lifts into a sweet smile, and you know his mind has wafted away to distant city streets.

“Of course…” He talks for ages about all the shops and stores available, about all the tiny apartment buildings and the decor, and his home block in Brooklyn. He tells you about the parks and the weather, and a place called Coney Island.

“... I think you’d like it.” He finishes, and you hum, having closed your eyes now, head to his shoulder as you attempt to imagine all that he describes. You feel him open his mouth to say something, to continue, but he doesn’t, hesitating and then remaining quiet, though he holds you firmer again, and you relish in the warmth of it.

Eventually, you have to let Matteo close up, and you bid the old man thank you and goodbye as you walk away hand-in-hand. Before you can get too far however, you stop, tugging on Bucky’s hand so you have his attention, the warm Montecarran breeze blowing your hair about.

“My mama doesn’t expect me home until morning.” You tell him, seeing instantly how his eyes change.

“Why’s that?” He manages to ask, stepping close again and you smile, shrugging.

“I told her I was watching some children in town overnight.”

Bucky hums at your reply, frowns as if in thought.

“Sounds as if you may need somewhere to stay, in that case.”

Bucky takes you back to his cottage, all quiet laughs and lingering touches as he leads you inside, placing his coat and keys down on the table, but any pretence is lost as soon as you kiss him. Clothes scatter around the small space, a gingerbread trail leading to his bedroom where he lays you down and peels the last of your underwear off.

Oddly, you feel less nervous about him seeing you naked than you had in your dress, maybe because he’d already seen you mostly this way, or maybe because at least naked it was real and you couldn’t pretend or hide, it was more honest.

You itch to touch him, but you don’t get the chance right away, his kisses leaving your lips quickly to travel down and soon you’re gasping, hands clutched tightly in his hair as he buries his face between your thighs, hands holding your legs apart as his tongue and lips work quickly over you, bringing you over the edge faster than you even thought possible. By the time he’s kissing you again, your mind is a haze of filth and desire and you guide him into you quickly.

Bucky is an excellent lover, his pace and angle perfect, his weight above you welcome as he thrusts into your warmth, desperate and wanting. He isn’t boring either, doesn’t end the night quickly, instead nearing his pleasure and stopping each time, drawing it out. He instructs you in various positions, making your belly spark with his knowledge of the female body, nearly sending you into a fritz when he takes you from behind, leaves you scrambling to hold on to something as you cry out into his sheets, his cock relentless as he fucks you through your orgasm, finally finishing with you, his hands curled around to pinch at your nipples, making your cunt bear down on him even more as you fall into a sweaty, moaning and panting heap.

He fetches you water, helps you fix back your hair in your still slightly dazed state, and pulls you near again, skin to skin as you drift off to sleep, lips pressed to one another even as your mind begins to wander.

In the morning you wake him with your mouth around his length, swallow him back as much as you can as he’s drawn from slumber by the pleasure, his hand reaching down to messily clutch at your hair. You watch him come apart for you, eyes fixed on his tilted head, creased brow and open mouth as he jerks into the back of your throat, hot warmth spilling forth that you swallow with ease.

He swears and curses as he rubs his eyes and you crawl up to lay beside him once again, finding his eyes looking at you as if to make sure you were real.

“Good morning, Sargeant.” You tease, only to have him cuss more, his chest heavily quickly up and down. You chitter and brush the slightly damp hair back from his head, a kiss to his cheek as you withdraw from the bed.

“Where’re you goin’?” He asks, blinking himself properly awake and you throw him a glance as you hunt for all your belongings.

“I have to go home, my mother does expect me at some point…” You explain, and he rubs a hand over his face once more, seeming to deflate a little.

“Right. Of course.”

You’re fully dressed when he manages to pull himself to sit on the edge of the bed, still naked, still just as fine as the evening previous. He looks up at you as you step nearer, braiding back your hair before you place both hands on his shoulders.

“Thank you.” You say simply, leaning down to peck his lips chastley. He hums against you, kissing you back and quickly you’re no longer pecking his lips, your hands roaming down over his shoulders appreciatively, his hands reach up the back of your skirt, pulling your underwear to the side and—

You gasp, giggling as you pull out of his reach, shaking your head and wagging a finger at him like a naughty child.

“No! No, I have to go home!” You tell him, even as he sighs, falling back to lie on the bed again. You can clearly see his hardening length and you fight yourself to just climb atop him once more.

“I will see you later!” You say pointedly, tossing a shirt onto his lap, to hide him from you, and you see him grin, chortling even as his hand travels lower, removing the shirt and wrapping around— you turn your back, flustered and tempted, but you leave his little cottage, determined to get home before your mama woke, so you could wash and change.

—-

Somewhere in the back of Bucky’s mind, he knew it wouldn’t last forever, but the end comes sooner than he’d expected.

He stares at the small pile of pages in front of him, their words all making sense in his brain, he understands what they all say, what they’re telling him, but at the same time, he comprehends absolutely nothing after the words ‘The United States Armed Forces herby discharges you with honourable service records…’

He was going home. They were sending him home.

At last he’d be able to hug his mother, see his sister, Steve, all the other fellas… he’d get to go home and really start his life post-war. He’d been waiting on this letter for months, a year even, more perhaps. At one time, it had been all he’d wanted. And yet, all that fills him now is a sense of dread, muddled with a bit of guilt, because he knows he really does miss his family, but…

When he sees you later that afternoon, sitting up in your nook like always, he can hardly bring himself to return your smile, sparkling and bright as always, for him. You pick up on his mood immediately, even if you poke fun. He knows he can’t delay, they expected him on his flight home from Rome tomorrow. The army loved their damn punctuality.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, face falling a little when he only half-heartedly chuckles at your joke, his eyes downturned, afraid to meet your own. He swallows, and shoves his hands in his pockets, squints into the distance.

“They’re sending me home.”

A beat passes.

When he finally looks back at you, he catches the tail end of devastation leaving your features, replaced instead with a hopeful, sincere grin.

You grab his hand, pulling them from his trousers.

“Bucky! That’s wonderful news!” You say excitedly, but he can only purse his lips.

“Yeah.”

“Oh, come on. Don’t be like that! You don’t want to spend your whole life here, do you!?” You snort a little as you knock him in the shoulder, and he smiles thinly.

No, he didn’t want to live the rest of his life in Tuscany, but he’d been getting used to having a little slice of it around lately.

Your over-excitement fades, and you lean in to him cupping his cheek.

“You’ll get to see your mother, and your city… I know you miss them all…” He can’t help but frown at a spot on your dress, avoiding your eyes like a pouting child.

“I’ll miss you, too, though.” He mumbles, and you smile, scrunch your nose and shake your head.

“In no time at all this will all be a happy memory.”

Bucky wants to protest, lifts his gaze to argue with you, but the sharp, almost panicked look you give him as you shake your head again stops him.

“No, Bucky… Don’t. Please don’t make this sad… you’ve made me…” Your voice is cut off as you sniff, the shininess to your eyes spilling over just slightly, even though you smile softly.

“You’ve made me very happy, for quite some time. Let us leave with that.” You wrap your arms around his neck, hiding your face away and Bucky sighs, pulling you closer too, and resting his head atop your own.

He glares, frowns aimlessly at a nearby wall, barely even seeing it, focusing all his energy on swaying gently with you.

“Alright.” He says, voice a little rough. You sniff into the collar of his shirt, and he smooths his hands down over your back.

“Alright.”

—-

“We rented out your room to a shoemaker. You’re gonna have to sleep on the couch until we can convince him to leave.” Becca says flatly, half her words muffled as she’s drawn into Bucky’s chest. He holds her there tightly for several seconds before pulling back.

“Oh yeah?” He rubs at his chin.

“Don’t think the shoemaker will sleep heads to toes with me?” He wonders, and Becca scrunches her nose, laughing at the image.

Winnie Barnes shakes her head and lightly taps her daughter.

“Becca don’t cause trouble. Bucky, we left everything exactly the way it was.” His mother tells him, before hugging him for the sixth time since he’d landed. He just grins, and hugs her back each time. He’d missed her. So much.

They eat dinner together, Steve and Peggy come too, and afterward, the blond makes Bucky pull out his camera. After quickly pulling some choice images out of the pile, he lets Becca and his mother rifle through, telling them about each photo as he remembers it, the act rather therapeutic. He really had been gone for so long.

“Oh… who's this?!” Becca coos, half reading, half awed, and Bucky absently leans over to get a look.

His heart stops for a moment when he lays eyes on you, your smile wide and full of glee, the wind blowing your hair wildly about, your hand lifted to hold your hat on your head. Maybe he takes too long staring, maybe it’s just something about a sisters’ intuition, but Becca whistles, then gasps as she plucks another photo from the pile now tipped on the floor.

“Here she is again! And here too!” Even his mother gives him a sideways glance, but he can’t bring himself to feel too bashful.

He clasps his hands under his knees where he sits on the carpet and hums.

“Nina. I met her in a little town called Montecarra.”

“She’s beautiful.”

“She is.” he confirms, as Becca continues to find photos with your face peppered throughout. He should be embarrassed about the amount of pictures he took of you, even ones where you aren’t doing anything but reading, but he really doesn’t.

“She your girlfriend?”

“Becca!” Winnie scolds, glaring at her daughter, but Bucky only laughs.

“I wasn’t lucky enough for that.” He shrugs, and his mother fusses.

“James Barnes, any woman worth her salt—”

“It’s not like that Ma… it’s just…” He trails off. He doesn’t want to say something to suggest he didn’t want to be here with them, because he desperately did. But he missed you.

“Well… I came home.” He shrugs, and his mother’s eyes fill with understanding. She purses her lips but frowns thinly, reaching out to squeeze his arm.

Becca frowns too, but she recovers quickly, pulling out a new photo and asking him about the features in it.

She pulls out the ones of your face, but she doesn’t mention them again.

Bucky settles in. He truly comes home. He stops feeling like he’s living out of a suitcase. He finds a job, granted it isn’t hard, with the SSR setting up an office in the city, he barely had to ask for a job. On Fridays he went dancing with Becca, acting more like a chaperone than a participant, and on Sunday’s he went to church with his mother, holding her hand through the service and making nice with the old ladies after.

He settles in. He’s home.

And then, there’s a knock on the door.

It’s well after any kind of appropriate hours for visitors, but not late enough into the night that anybody was in bed. Winnie sits by the radio in the living room, listening to her stories while Becca scrawls out a letter. Bucky had been reading when the knock came, and he waves a hand towards the women when he stands.

“I’ll get it.”

“Who on earth calls at this time?” He hears his mother wonder aloud as he makes his way down the hall to the front door.

Swinging it open, Bucky feels ready to send off whoever it is, but he stops dead in his tracks. All sense leaves him, aside from sight. He’s only able to stare slack-mouthed as you blink back up at him.

He’s never seen you in so many layers before. It was winter in New York, but Montecarra seemed to be perpetually hot, so the most he’d seen you in was a light jacket… standing before him now, on his front steps, you have a coat, a scarf, gloves, a hat and he thinks those might even be earmuffs around your neck.

“I… Hello…” You begin, your voice heavily accented when you speak English, and even though Bucky shakes himself out of his stupor, he’s still dumbfounded.

“Hi…”

“I… I’m new to the city, and I thought perhaps you will… show me around?” You seem to be thinking hard about your words, speaking slowly to articulate them. You scrunch your nose when you finish, clearly unhappy with the outcome.

Bucky can’t even bring himself to respond. He’s down the two steps separating you in seconds, hands cupping both your cheeks as he kisses you, again and again, in quick succession until you’re laughing against his lips.

“What— how— what are you doing here?!” He stops and starts, but eventually gets some version of his thoughts out. He speaks to you in Italian, not wanting you to feel limited, and you shrug, gloved fingers splayed across his chest.

“My Aunt… the one from England… she offered for me to join her in America, for better opportunities…” You trail off, and Bucky decides you could tell him any reason and he’d have been satisfied.

“I’ve been learning English.” You say, and he nods, thumb stroking over your cheek. He can’t stop looking at you, he can’t believe you’re here.

“I can see that.” He replies, in English, and watches as you slowly understand.

“Buck? Who's at the door— oh! I- I’m sorry, I—” Winnie, with Becca just behind her, stops in her tracks at the door, cheeks tinged red at catching such an intimate moment, but Bucky can’t bring himself to pull away. He see’s Becca’s eyes flash with recognition, her face lighting up.

He forces himself to pull back slightly, guiding you forward.

“Mama, Becca, this is Nina… from Montecarra.”

——

“I thought you said you’d worked in all the kinks!?” You whine, only slightly impatiently, though Bucky can understand why.

“Worked out all the kinks, baby. ‘Out’.” You roll your eyes and mutter in Italian.

“I’m going to work you out in a moment…” You say louder, and Bucky relents, holding up his hands as he finishes fiddling at last.

“Okay, okay. I’m coming! Get ready!” He tells you, quickly rushing around from one side of the camera he’d set up on a pile of books, the little wired control he holds in his hand flashing red.

“Come bambino, please smile for Mr Camera!” You bounce the tiny baby boy on your lap, earning a bout of giggles, just as Bucky slides in next to you on the stairs, wrapping his arm around your shoulders, and placing his free hand on his son’s back.

“Ready?”

“Five minutes ago…”

“Say ‘Montecarra’!”

He presses the button, and the camera flashes.

Thank You Very Much For Reading!

[ebthecelebrity]

Sometimes the Grass is Greener on the Other Side Because it’s Fake

Introducing Brenda and Her Insecurities…...

Brenda stares at herself in a full length mirror. She turns to the left then to the right, eyeing her booty. She sucks her teeth and sighs. “Ugh, why did my mama give me her flat ass!” She walks off in disgust and plops down on the sofa. She grabs her phone and opens up Instagram and the first picture she sees on her timeline is a chocolate IG Model in an orange bikini on a yacht. She clicks on her profile and scrolls only to see more half naked pictures of this model’s voluptuous shape.

“Her ass can’t be real,” she mumbles to herself.

She clicks off and continues to scroll her timeline. She sees her high school classmate with his two kids playing at a park, a photo of some cute puppies, and The Shaderoom’s petty commentary on rapper Bow Wow. She cuts her phone off and walks into the bedroom to find her boyfriend, Keith, laying on the bed scrolling on his phone. He was zoned in.

“What are we doing today?” she asks. He continues to scroll his phone.

“Keith!”

“Huh?” he replies startled.

“What are we going to do today? Did you want to go out to eat at that new restaurant off 49th Ave?”

“I mean...I thought we could hit up the beach later. You know, pack the cooler with some drinks and maybe get something to eat out there.” Keith replies.  

Brenda shrugs her shoulders. “Okay, I guess that’s cool.”

Keith smiles and grabs on her leg playfully. “Put on that sexy swimsuit you bought last summer, you know the black one.”

Brenda rolls her eyes. “Naaaaah, I’ll just put on some shorts. I’ll save that one for another time,” she replies.

She walks out the bedroom and goes back to the full length mirror and analyzes her body again. Truth is, she didn’t like it and definitely not in a bikini. She imagines her pancake shaped booty and A cupped breast looking pitiful in the midst of DD’s and Georgia peaches flaunting in the hot sun. Keith tells her all the time that she is beautiful, that he loves her body, but she just can’t seem to believe him. They’ve been together for two years but till this day, there are many times that she caught his eyes wandering. The beach was just a playground for her feelings to get played with under his dark shades. She truly resents going there but in order to keep the peace this Saturday, she agrees to his suggestion.

“I think my butt getting big, butt getting big, butt getting big…..” The song loudly blasts out of the bedroom. “Buss it, buss it, buss it, buss it….” Brenda silently listens to Keith watch “The Buss It Challenge” on his phone. It’s the new tik tok dance challenge where women appear raggedy looking at first with bonnets, pajamas, no makeup, etc. and then they drop down and twerk in the camera made up with hair, makeup and form fitting clothing. Brenda knew you had to have something to twerk in order to participate. She saw women of all races do the challenge and pop their ass on the gram, gaining likes and lust. She heard whatever video Keith was watching loop in replay three times. Before she knew it, a tear rolled down her right cheek. She quickly wipes it away.

It’s been two weeks since Keith and Brenda’s beach outing. Brenda is now sitting in an exam room, waiting to be seen by a doctor. She nervously tugs at her shirt and looks around the room. A few seconds later, a short gray haired doctor walks in and introduces himself.

“Brenda London?” He asks.

Brenda nods her head. “Yes.”

“Hi, I’m Dr. Castlerock. Nice to meet you. What brings you in today?”

Brenda takes a deep breath and replies, “Well, I want a consultation on a Brazilian Butt Lift.”  

On the drive back home, she calls Keith.

“I scheduled it for August 16th,” she says.

“Brenda, why would you do this to yourself? I told you, I love every inch of you. It’s unnecessary man.”

She could sense the disappointment in his voice. “I don’t like every inch of me Keith! Why can’t you just support me?”

“I want to support you in everything you do, but this is not it. Where is your self love?” he replies.

“I got self love, and that’s why I’m doing it.”

“So you’re really just going to disregard how I feel about your natural body? Don’t I tell you all the time how beautiful you are?”

Brenda remained silent.

“And what about the cost? Isn’t it expensive?” He asks.

“I have cashed out my 401K.” she replies.

“Wow.” Keith replies.

“Listen, my butt has bothered me my whole life. I want to be the woman you lust after on Instagram. I want to be the bad bitch in the bikini!” Brenda cries. “You say you love my natural body, but you’ll love this even more.”

“Aight Brenda, do you. You’ve made up your mind. I just don’t understand, and I never will. I don’t lust after those females. I lust after you. I love you.” Keith replies.

Brenda bits her bottom lip and holds back tears. “I got to focus on the road Keith. I’ll see you when I get home.”

They both disconnect the call and Brenda lifelessly stares out the windshield of her car.

It’s now August 21st and Brenda can’t sit, drive, properly shower, or even have sex. She’s currently lying on her stomach on the couch, watching tv in a compression garment to help reduce swelling and discomfort. This week has consisted of strong pain meds, tears and a little regret.  Even with his disapproval, Keith agreed to be her caretaker for the next two weeks.  He walks out the kitchen area and hands her a small bag of Lay’s potato chips.

Brenda grunts in discomfort while lifting up off the couch a little to grab them. “Thanks”, she says.

Keith looks at her in an emotionless stare. “I got to make a few runs. You good?” he asks.

“Uh yeah, how long will you be out?” Brenda replies.

“I’m not sure.” Keith grabs his fitted cap from the back of the bedroom door and walks towards the front door.

“Okay, well be sa…” Before Brenda could get out “safe”, he had already slammed the door and walked out. The past few months leading up to the surgery had been difficult between them two. It’s like all the love and admiration Keith had for her went out the window. They had not really been intimate and he refused to discuss the BBL. Brenda yearns to get the man she fell in love with two years ago back. She feels that as soon as her recovery is here within a week or so and he sees her new curvy ass, they will bounce back. He will not be able to keep his hands off her. She smiles while envisioning the make up sex they will soon have and how things can get back to normal. Her phone rings. It’s her best friend, Sadie.

“Hey girl, what’s up?” Brenda answers.

“Girl….” Sadie reponses with a pause.

“What?” Brenda sits her upper body up in attention.

“I just saw Keith with a bitch.”

“Say what?!” Brenda tries to get up off the couch but suddenly feels a sharp pain in her upper left thigh. “Owww oh my God.”

“Take it easy girl, I did not want to call you with this shit, but you know I took pics of the evidence. Sending the pics now.” Sadie assures.

Brenda’s phone alerts with the text message. She quickly opens it up and clicks on the picture of Keith and a random girl hugged up outside of a gas station. Her mouth drops open and she’s in disbelief. The random woman has the biggest smile on her face while he holds her close and has both of his hands palming her booty.  Sadie yells the words right out of Brenda’s own mouth.

“How the hell is he going to cheat on you with a flat booty bitch?!”

Introducing Trevor and His Enviness…..

“Aye excuse me Sir, can you take this pic for me real quick?” Trevor hands his iphone X to a stranger walking by who agrees to snap a pic of him in front of a silver 2020 Mercedes Benz S 560. It’s valet parked outside of the Ritz Carlton Hotel downtown. The man snaps the pic of Trevor and hands him back the phone. Trevor looks at the pic for a hot second and smiles.

“Thanks man,” Trevor says.

The man nods his head and replies, “No problem bro, that’s a nice whip you have!”

Trevor is a little startled by the compliment but replies back. “Uh yeah man thank you.”

“Those are going for like $100k.  I’m sure it rides nice.” The man stares at the car in admiration.

Trevor nodded his head in agreement. “Oh yeah man, it’s laced out inside.”

“So dope, I’m trying to get like you one day bro,” the man says. “Take care and stay up.”

“You too.” Trevor replies.

Trevor waits until the man walks out of view and walks the opposite direction. He hurriedly walks two blocks down the street and stops at the bus station. He takes a seat on the bench and pulls out his phone. He pulls up the picture of him in front of the Benz on Instagram and captions “Just dropped 100 bands on the new whip. Talk to me nice.”  He clicks upload and chuckles to himself. The city bus loudly pulls up and comes to a screeching halt at Trevor’s feet. He jumps up off the bench and gets on it to go home.

That next morning, Trevor wakes up to a loud vacuum outside his bedroom door. The door bursts open.  He jumps up startled and rubs the cold out of his squinted eyes.

‘Really Mom?!” he says groggily.

His mom frowns her face and rolls her eyes. “It’s time to get up!” she says loudly over the vacuum. Trevor sighs loudly and rolls over to the edge of the bed. His mom, Cynthia cuts off the vacuum and looks at him annoyingly.

“If you don’t get a job by the end of this week, you gotta get out,” Cynthia says.

“This week?” Trevor asks, confused.

“This week is what I said. All you do is sleep in late and eat up all my damn food,” she replies.

“Ahhh man. Mom, you got to give me a little more time than that. Getting a job doesn’t happen overnight.”

“I don’t know who you think you are, but you are 30 years old still living with me and unemployed. You are not too good to drop them fries at Wendy’s down the street. I told you they were hiring last week and you still refused to put in an application,” Cynthia says. “I’ve had enough!”

Trevor sucks his teeth. “Man, I’m not working at no Wendys. I’ll figure something out,” Trevor replies.

“You got 5 days and I mean it,” Cynthia replies. She angrily cuts the vacuum back on and rolls it out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

Trevor stares at the wall for a minute, in an effort to fully wake up. He has no desire to work at Wendy’s. In his eyes, it was not good enough. He decided to get up and look online for a job. He pulls his laptop out of the closet and begins his search with indeed.com.

“Hmmm...desired salary range? $75,000 a year will do,” He says to himself.

Upon clicking search, he finds a lot of great paying jobs with benefits but the catch 22 is, they all require previous experience. Trevor has a high school diploma. After failed attempts to get into very prestigious universities, he was unable to secure an acceptance. His mother begged him to attend the local Community College to start off with his electives, but he felt that was not good enough. Trevor had dreams of becoming a journalist. He enjoyed writing and he used to record his own radio show for leisure. In High School, his grades were just not up to par for some of the schools he applied for. This discouraged him, and he never thought twice about going back to school. That was 12 years ago, and he has since worked dead end jobs and has yet to move out of his mother’s house. He became somewhat of a hermit, not engaging with friends and family. He secludes himself from everyone. His social media shows that he is a successful businessman residing in Atlanta, but in reality, he is broke, depressed and his mother still makes his bed.

After 30 minutes of searching online, his frustration grows and he slams his laptop closed. There is no way he can work at Wendy’s.  He fears that his fabulous lifestyle would be exposed by running into anyone he knew. He opens up his Instagram and looks at his profile.

“532 likes?! Haha, that’s crazy,” he says to himself while admiring the photo of him in front of the luxury Benz from last night.  He then scrolls his timeline to find a picture of a black suit and purple tie that someone had laid out on a plush hotel bed.  He screenshots the picture and opens his profile up again. He captions “Rise and Grind. #GoodMorning.” and uploads it. He then puts his phone down and prepares to take a shower.  He opens up his dresser drawer and pulls out a pair of blue boxer briefs. They had a hole in the back.

“Damnit!” He yells and slams the drawer.

Three days have now passed and Trevor is in his room playing his Playstation. His mother, Cynthia busts in his room.

“It’s Thursday young man and I’m not playing with you. Have you found a job?” She demands.

Trevor doesn’t take his eyes off the game and responds. “I’ve applied to a few places Ma, can you give me some time? I can’t just find a job in a week like that.”

“You’re lazy! And I want you out tomorrow! You better go stay with your cousin or something. I am no longer taking care of a man child,” she replies.

Trevor pauses the game.

“Ma, are you really going to kick out your only son? I’m really trying.”

Cynthia throws an empty box at him. “Pack some things. It’s time for you to grow up,” she replies.

She walks out the room. Trevor just knew he couldn’t live with his cousin Maurice. He still owes Maurice $500 from weeks ago. He truly had nowhere to go. Finally, years of misleading people with untruthful social media posts, borrowing money without repayment, not willing to work low wage jobs, and trying to keep up with the Jones’ has suddenly come crashing down. In desperation, he opens up his computer and types in “PPP Loan.” He reads where he will need a legitimate business to qualify and knows the consequences. This fictitious lifestyle has pretty much caught up with him but now he’s desperate.  He wants the car, the money, the clout…. He clicks on the SBA website and begins to fill out an application.

[the-canary]

Don’t Think Twice - S.R (10/10)

Summary: Neither of you thought there were things the other was so afraid of. (Enhanced!Reader/Steve Rogers).  

Prompt: Vertigo - sensation of whirling and loss of balance, associated particularly with looking down from a great height; giddiness

A/N: This is for @until-theend-oftheline ‘s beautiful words challenge. i really like when somethings aren’t said just yet, there is a lot left with this chapter but if you have your own thoughts, ideas, and questions -- please consider sharing them, i would love to hear them! i hope you enjoy the last chapter, this series ran longer than i thought it would, but it was a fun ride! <3

Feedback is always welcomed.

Gideon understood that once he uploaded whatever was remaining of his father, that he as a person would be destroyed, but if he really thought about it -- there was so such thing, to begin with. Any version --whether memories or wounds-- was replaceable in the long journey to find what his father wanted, he was just a bigger piece to the puzzle with two objectives in mind -- find his father and reunite with his sister.

But, to see his sister with people that cared for her, saw her as a human being well that just sparked something in him. They hadn’t known each other for very long, but there was a sense of destruction in Gideon that wanted to make his sister remember that she wasn’t anything of the sort -- she was doll meant to be used and thrown away when her time came...when their father was meant to come back and bring home.

Maybe, that’s why Gideon moved with his plans faster than they should have gone. The chemical reaction in his body should have moved so fast, but his anger and impatience made it so the metal and gases in his body expanded further and faster, as his father’s incomplete voice began to swallow up whatever “sense of self” the young man had once.

The youth his sister had met in Sokovia was barely there when she met and headbutted his last remaining body near the Avengers Compound. Her metal limbs and just entire self encompassed him and why he can heat her and father fighting over whatever --ideology or future plans, he isn't quite sure-- but the last part, as the metal expands and encases the blue burning completely lets that little part that is left of Gideon to shine brightest of all

“Wanda was right,” she laughs breathlessly, “Siblings are so annoying.”

There’s a blast that destroys part of the building that is facing it, as Victor tries his hardest not to run over to where he knows you would be. You had rushed out in the last minute, and in your unstable state he really couldn’t stop you. Lawson had tried following you, but the smoke and fumes had been too much for him as well and he needed to help with the evacuation of all the other less-ranked S.H.I.E.L.D agents.

It isn’t until a least an hour later that both Lawson and Shuri come in with two hovering stretchers that a little blue sheen over them. Green eyes widen and Victor moves his body mainly from shock to look at the person laying on one of them -- limbs missing here and there with blotches of dirt and metal covering them all over.

All the rocks and crystals in the center of the chest are broken or cracked in some way, except the center. There is a light crack, but it is still burning a bright and clear blue.

“She’s still alive,” Shuri declares, “But completely comatose.”

Victor can’t help but sigh with a little laugh, “Of course, she would be. Do you think your plan could work now?”

Shuri looks at the doctor before nodding, “If we want to keep her alive, we better start the vibranium transfusion.”

“And the other?” Lawson can’t help but add-in, the silence heavy but Gideon's own heartbeat is just as strong as yours, though he is missing more patches of skin and limbs than you are. There is also heavy scarring over his face and burns on the right side of his body.

“We’ll do what we can,” Shuri declares while moving her fingers over the hologram keyboard, “For the both of them.”

Lawson frowns, but doesn’t say anything as both Victor and Shuri yell and more medical help is brought in.  

However, it isn’t that easy as skin needs to be regrown and the vibranium needs to be put into balance with the remaining serum and with anything else that happened when that bright light took ahold of everything.

There are so many questions that need answering, but for now -- everyone’s whose life you touched in such a short amount of time hopes you make it back in one piece --- and like you, most of all.  

You are completely unaware that there is a certain man (after he has come back and everything had been explained to him) that tends to stand near your pod every once and a while, though nobody else says anything about it.

You wonder if there was a certain stirring in Audrey Hepburn's character back in Funny Face when she started doing those fashion shoots and opening up herself to the world that had been brought to her by Fred Astaire. You wonder if it was scary at all, or if it was as easy as gliding or flying -- if you forgot to be scared because there was someone with her, even though she was still wary of him when it came to love.

It was one of your first thoughts, as you slow woke up from the dead to have both Shuri and Victor looking at you. You glance around for a second, as the princess asks you how you are feeling.

“I’m…” your voice feels dry from lack of uses over the past couple of months, “...not burning anything?”

Shuri grins and nods, “We’ve stabilized your blood with vibranium and some of your brother’s blood.”

They aren’t sure how to add it might have all be thanks to Captain Rogers, so they leave that part out for now, though it helps that something else is on your mind.

“Gideon?” you faze everything out, remembering your brother’s body but your father’s words (It all deserves to be burned down for what they did to you) being the last things you heard, so you can help but get up just a little in both fear and worry, “Is he still alive?”

“He’s still asleep,” Victor adds in as he motions to a large white pod not too far away from the three of you -- somewhere you had only been a few hours before. At the mention, you just let out of a huff of air before collapsing on the bed once more.

“That’s good,” you let out a light laugh before blacking out completely once more. Shuri and Victor can’t help but look at each other unsure of what just happened, but soon realized that you were alive and well -- and above all else, your powers were being controlled better than they thought they would be.

Slowly but surely you get used to walking in “new skin” as creepy as it may sound because there are patches that have been cleared up and the metal doesn’t sing to you as loud anymore, though it is always there as surely as it seems that Gideon will be sleeping for a while longer -- his healing system completely destroyed and as the Avengers found out, he was the last one of those made. All those others have been destroyed or harmed when the bombings started taking place -- they had all been the sacrifice for bringing your father’s consciousness back once more.

For now, you were sitting underneath the shade of one of the many Avengers building as the sun slowly started to set. The spring heat still made you a bit dizzy here and there, but you had heard that someone was finally coming back from their extended stay in Wakanda.

“Captain Rogers!” you exclaim with a wave, as he runs down the lace for a moment before stopping. Blue eyes stare at you for a good second before you come up to him -- blood starting to warm up just a bit more, but not for its usual reasons.

“Are you alright here?” he can’t help but ask, “Like this?”

You look down at your legging and short sleeve before nodding, “Yes, I’m slowly getting used to the weather.”

Steve smiles before asking if you want to finish the rest of the run with him. You say no, that you still aren’t ready for that sort of thing, though you question if he is willing to watch another movie with you. He agrees right before Lawson ends up calling you for your check-up. You end up heading back inside and wait until your usual hours, as the cold settles in more comfortably than before.

You’re already there, halfway through another Audrey Hepburn movie and munching on popcorn when Steve finally comes in. You welcome him with a pat on the seat and though this is widely different from before, Steve can’t help but wonder what brought about all this change, he ends up -in the silence of it all-- asking right before you start the movie once more.  

“It’s crazy,” you breathe out, trying to express what you were feeling in that one moment that you were sure was the end, “I just jumped in the way without a second thought.”

“That was pretty reckless,” Steve remarks as you give him a questioning stare.

“Now, that’s not fair,” you fight back with a grin. The warmth calling you more than it should, as you lean just a bit closer to Steve, “I’ve heard you do it all the time. I’m just following by example.”

Steve laughs and shakes his head as you give him a soft smile, something that he had never seen before -- at least coming from you. And as you settle in to watch the rest of the movie, Steve can’t help but notice that between the chill of the air-conditioned room and feeling of your lukewarm body, there is a sense of dizziness fluttering inside his chest -- Steve was sure he knew what it might be, but for now things could come as slowly as they would -- you still had much to learn and recover from but he knew that he would be there when you need him.

Between fighting and flying against all these emotions, Steve wouldn’t think twice about staying by your side for now.  

A little bit further down the road, you might end up admitting the same thing as well. And if someone finds you both asleep on the couch later on, well Shuri will have some pictures to show later on as well.

[hoseokmylovesworld]

Picture of Love | 09

Pairing: Photographer!Hoseok x OC x Producer!Yoongi

Genre/Warnings: Hoseok AU/Yoongi AU/Includes strong language, anxiety, panic attack

Words: 4,694

Summary: Charlotte Galloway is the leader of the up and coming girl band, “She-Bang”, with a side hustle as a photographer for anyone who will hire her.  She meets a fellow professional photographer named Jung Hoseok who helps “She-Bang” realize their dreams and Charlotte to make a love connection along the way.

"Yup...Yes ma'am!...Thank you so much Aubrey, we really appreciate it!...Thank you, you too!" I hang up the phone with the club owner of the Mezzanine, thus closing the deal of performing there tomorrow night. "Good news girls!" I shout, exiting the bathroom of the hotel room. "Oh yeah?" says Leyah from her trusty bed.

Does she ever move?

Carrie sat on the floor at the foot of my bed in between Vicky's legs, who was braiding her hair.

"I have just setup a gig at the Mezzanine for tomorrow night." I say smugly walking into the room. "Aw fuck yeah!" Carrie cheers from her spot on the floor causing the rest of our eyes to widen and us to giggle. "That's great. That place we went clubbing at a few days ago?" Leyah specifies. "Yup. Called the club owner and asked if we could do a set. She was uneasy about it, then she watched some of our YouTube videos and agreed to pay."

"Why have we never performed there before? I feel like we hit every place in San Fran." Vicky questioned, not taking her focus off of Carrie's intricate fish tale braid for a second. "Yeah me too, I guess we just overlooked this one." I shrug and go to mine and Leyah's joint closet to pick out an outfit my 'do-over' date with J-Hope. We're supposed to be going to dinner and then to his close friend's art exhibit/auction downtown

I was pleasantly surprised to hear that J-Hope was an art lover like myself and that we had something else to bond over. Of course we both had an appreciation seeing as we both love photography, but the topic of French art in particular tickles my fancy and J-Hope's friend just happened to be a French artist.

"Going somewhere, Char?" Leyah asks from behind me. I've been found out.

"Yeah...J-Hope and I are going out tonight. Don't wait up for me." She laughs.

"Three nights in a row...Someone's infatuated." She drawls in her low register. I visibly cringe at the use of the world. "If that's the word you wanna use." I whisper, suddenly disinterested in the conversation. "Oh, yeah. No, that's definitely the word I want to use." She laughs at my discomfort, as per usual and the girls join her. I just roll my eyes and continue my search. "Let me help you." She offers and joins me at the wardrobe. That's what I loved about my best friend. If you fell, she would definitely laugh at you, but she would always be there to help you up in the end. "Where you going anyway?" She asks looking through her clothes as well.

"I actually didn't ask. He just said we would get something to eat and then go to his friend's art exhibit to support, but I was all for it when I heard the words 'French' and 'art' in the same sentence." I share, getting excited about the whole thing once again.

"So, hella fancy." Leyah nods, searching faster, seemingly knowing what to look for now.

"I don't know about hella fancy, but a good amount of 'I'm here because I give a fuck' you know?"

"Totally. Here we go...Wait 'til lover boy sees you in this." Leyah pulls out a short sleeveless, black top that would expose my mid-section and a long, black pencil skirt covered in detailed rose patterned lace.

      "Oh, Leyah. This is perfect! Where were you hiding this!?" I take the items and hold them to my chest in elation. She just shrugs. "I never have any reason to dress up anyway, maybe I was saving it for this moment." She winks at me quickly before making her way back to her bed. I just smile to myself before finding a pair of black leather heels to pair it with. This act makes me feel more confident about tonight in that things might actually be successful this time.

That's right. Jay is gonna take me out and we're gonna have fun and we're gonna laugh and he's gonna take me home and we're gonna do it all  over  again.

I chant this in my head over and over again to rid myself of the paranoia that surrounds me twenty-four seven about the whole dating ordeal. I shake the thoughts away as I hop onto my bed and reach for my phone to inform our fans of our performance tomorrow, attaching one of my favorite photos from the shoot yesterday. After uploading the photos and the jam session to our social media and switching out our profile pictures, we've actually gained lots of followers on different platforms. We even got a couple dm's from wannabe producers looking to work with us. Who knew a few professional pictures could make such a difference. Around 6:30 I get off my ass and start doing my make-up, I decide to go for a dark, bold and smokey look with a red lip to match the look Leyah let me borrow. J-Hope texts me he's waiting for me in the lobby at 7:32 so I say goodbye to the girls, who were nice enough to wish me good luck, and head down to meet him.

He's sitting in the lounge area near the front entrance when I first see him. He's in a fitted, silvery-grey suit and a spotless white dress shirt. God this guy looks gorgeous in anything.

"Jay!" I greet as I get closer to him. He looks up, a huge smile splitting across his face as he got up to greet me properly. His eyes rake up and down my body as we get closer. "Wow, you look...incredible, Charlotte." He says, openly checking me out and pecking me on the lips, not that I minded, but I will never get used to that.

"Thank you! I love the suit." I respond as his arm wraps around my bare waist, sending shivers up my spine. "Thanks, I wore it just for you." He looks to me with a smug smirk and my insides get flooded with heat and butterflies at the sight.

This. Will. Go. Well.

"So, where are we going?" I ask as we get into the car. "Oh, this neat place near the exhibit called Michael Mina. I figured French food before we look at some French art would be perfect, wouldn't you agree?" He glances over at me.

"I can get behind that." I can't help myself as I grab my phone out of my clutch and Google this restaurant. Five stars. Of course.

The restaurant had a very futuristic feel to it and the decor consisted of several shades of tans and browns and the place was packed. We sit at a table along the wall and the conversation flows between us as usual.

"Have you always wanted to be a photographer?" I ask before stuffing a piece of lobster in my mouth. "Oh. Yeah-well, since freshman year of high school. Before that, I had been taking pictures from the moment my mom put a camera in my hands when I was four." He laughs to himself as if remembering something he found funny. "I used to try to recreate my favorite movie scenes with my friends and capture those."

"Oh, I gotta see that." I laugh shameless, bringing my drink to my lips.

"Yeahhhhh, no way in hell. Anyway, did you always want to be a musician?" He asks, giving me his undivided attention.

"Oh...No...But I always admired them and then one day...I picked up a guitar and keyboard." I sigh, trying not to think so much about that day in particular, but I offer the information anyway because I want J-Hope to know this 'relationship' is two sided, whatever that relationship may be at this point.

"As a child you mean?"

"No... Recently... A few years ago actually."

"Wow... That's impressive. The way you play seems like you've been doing it for much longer." He smiles sweetly. I had a hardass teacher.

"Thanks." I return the expression. "Of course. So, did you play sports in school?" He keeps the conversation flowing so well.

"I played volleyball in high school. It's my favorite sport." I say smiling brightly at those memories. "I can totally see that...Specifically you in compression shorts running around a court." J-Hope's gaze narrows and focuses in me with a menacing smirk. Goddamn those lips.

I reach over the table to swat his arm. "You are on thin ice, Jay." I say threatenly while running my foot up his leg gently.

His jaw drops the slightest bit and he runs his tongue over his front teeth before he gathers himself and responds briefly. "I'm counting on it Charlotte." Before winking and eating his food once again.

Well, it's good to know he's a flirty, hornball just like me.

"What about you? Ever play sports in school?"

"Oh no, I can't even finish a game of badminton." He detests, causing us to giggle profusely. "What kind of student were you?" He questions.

"Eh, kept to myself, bit of a loner. Marks weren't so great either." I answer easily, J-Hope nods understandingly. "Me too." he replies. I raise one eyebrow at him. "I don't believe that. You're so smart." He smiles shyly. "Thanks, Charlotte. So are you." I nod in thanks, not really believing the compliment, but accepting it nonetheless.

"So what kind of kid were you?" He asks suddenly.

"So many questions."

"I'm a curious guy." He shrugs.

"... A pain in the ass." J-Hope nearly chokes on his drink from laughing.

"I'll bet. You and your friends get into a lot of trouble?" He assumes.

I shake my head, looking down at my food. "... I didn't have many friends, still don't. It was mostly just me and my cousin. Maeve. We were always together." I huff out a bitter laugh.

"Do you still talk?" He inquires, hopefully.

"No...No." I say sorely, thinking about my old best friend and all the adventures we shared before we were separated.

Immediately trying to lighten the mood, like the ball of sunshine he is, he asks "So... What's the last thing you Googled?"

"Where the leftover poop in your butt goes after you're done." I answer seriously and possibly a little too fast. We share a look before bursting out in the biggest fit of laughter we have yet, attracting nearly every eye in our section, but not exactly acknowledging them.

And his reply "... Did you get an answer?" sends us into another bout of extreme giggles that certainly attracts even more eyes, but this time the only thing J-Hope and can I see is each other.

++++++++++++++++++++++++

Walking into the exhibit, I am once again struck with wonder in why J-Hope chose me to keep taking to these places. I've never been to an art exhibit or auction before, but I'm definitely deeming this one of the more fancy ones. There were way more people  here than I thought there would be at a just starting artist's exhibit, there had to be around seventy people in the vicinity. There were massive canvases with detailed depictions that I couldn't wait to analyze on every wall. There were bouquets of various flower arrangements in every corner of the large room, several chandeliers on the ceiling and servers handing out hors d'oeuvres to guests. J-Hope's hand gives my waist a gentle squeeze, getting my attention as I let out a tiny squeal.

"You alright there?" He looks me over before stopping to look into my eye, waiting for my response. "What? Oh, I'm fine. Just a bit overwhelmed is all." I say gesturing to our surroundings. I'm not accustomed to this shit like you are.

"Everything looks so beautiful."

"Ha, yeah. I was expecting something like this, Abolsan's always been one for flare."

"I thought you said he was just making his start."

"Oh, well...He comes from money so..." He shrugs. Well that makes more sense. I knew his friends were rich.

We approach the first piece and I'm confused about the meaning behind it but the bold yet dark colors paired with rough, obviously layered strokes still held all my attention and forced me to come up with my own backstory for it. In my mind this is what art, in every form, is supposed to do. Stimulate you and your creative side to think freely. It's got my vote, I'm impressed. 'Mama' is the title of the piece.

Me too, Abolsan, me too.

Most of the other pieces had a similar effect on me, in that it captured me and was impressive as fuck for someone my age. J-Hope was very animated and giddy about the art himself and I was pleasantly surprised we had similar tastes and ideas for how the paintings translated and touched us.

We approach a piece that looks incredibly familiar. Too familiar. I can feel my hands start to sweat immediately and my heart rate increases ten-fold as I remember the first time I saw this painting.

FLASHBACK // 2 and half years ago

I walk the streets of downtown, L.A., fingers laced tightly with my boyfriend, Yoongi, on our way to the music shop to get a guitar for me. He had been giving me lessons on his own guitar and keyboard for so long, he figured it made sense to get me one as well and he was generous enough to buy it for me. On one of the busier streets we passed through, there was a young man around my age selling art on the curb. "Yoongi, wait." I pull on his hand as he continues to walk by the paintings, but he finally stops, sighing impatiently and looks at his wrist watch.

"Char, the shop closes soon, we gotta hurry if we wanna get that guitar you were looking at." He chimes softly in my ear, using his persuasive powers to get me to move along. I ignore his usually hypnotizing actions for the first time because of how taken I was with the painting in front of me. It contained none of my favorite colors, it actually contained my least favorite color: yellow. But the way that bright yellow basically melted into the soft red and blue that surrounded it, captured me in a way no work of art ever had. The way the colors almost wrestled for dominance, but came back together in harmony in a style that resembled Van Gogh's Starry Night, completely enchanted me.

"Hello Miss." The boy greeted me brightly with an accent I couldn't place. He had tanned skin, beautiful pale green eyes and cropped, black curly hair. "Hi!" I replied, being broken out of my trance. "Did you paint these?" I gesture to the paintings on the ground and he nods excitedly.

"You are...so talented." I say with wide eyes, still quite blown away. "Pfft." Yoongi openly scoffs and looks away with a humorless laugh.

Well someone's jealous.

"Thank you so much! I'm selling this one for $150.00" He points to the painting I was gawking at.

That's a little steep for a painting in my position and I don't want to ask Yoongi for it, that's too much.

"Oh...Okay." I say defeated. "Char, I'm sorry, but we gotta go and I'm not carrying the guitar and that thing all the way back to the apartment." Yoongi says, squeezing my hand gently. I nod understandingly and start moving along. "I'm sorry." I say to the artist. "They're beautiful!" I say over my shoulder while we make our way to the music shop and he just smiles and nods sadly.

The following week consists of our usual activites, Yoongi and I fooling around during the day, him teaching me how to play my new guitar and him going out to 'work' at night. But today was different as I wake up to an empty bed, but Yoongi is usually back by morning. When he doesn't answer my first three texts I figure he was in the middle of a job and give up to practice my guitar. About an hour later I see Yoongi enter the apartment with an excited gummy smile on his face. I barely ever get to see this glorious sight so I immediately return the gesture, but am still a little suspicious.

"Babe, what's goin' on? Everything alright?" I put the guitar aside and make my way over to him to question him. "Everything is great, just stay right there, I have a surprise for you."

This is new.

"Oh! Okay!" I stay in my spot in the middle of our shitty apartment facing away from the bed. "Close your eyes." He orders before leaving the apartment again, I comply, the gears turning in my head. "Is this a sex thing?" I question, completely fine with that idea.

"No Char." He says exhaustedly, making me laugh.

"...Do you want it to be?" He suddenly asks, full of life again. I shrug my shoulders. "I wouldn't complain." I hear him chuckle as he retrieves something from the hallway

Okay. It's big.

He makes his way passed me to the bed, he seems to be setting something up on it.

I knew it was a sex thing.

"Okay baby, turn around." I hear him say from the bed. "Now open your eyes." I open my eyes to reveal the breathtaking painting from last week, now surrounded by a frame just as beautiful, balancing on the headboard against the wall behind it. My hands fly up to cover my mouth instinctively as my eyes fall on Yoongi, who's sat at the foot of the bed with his signature satisfied smirk through tear filled eyes. His smirk transforms back to that beautiful gummy grin full of perfect teeth creating those incredibly cute crinkles around his eyes and turning them into near slits beneath his bleach blonde hair. I wanted to remember him exactly like this forever; happy. Happy with me.

I rush over to him, wrapping my arms around his neck and sinking into his lap. His arms wrap around me tightly as I pull him into a passionate kiss, which Yoongi returns greedily. I pull away to rest my forehead against his as he continues to nip at my mouth.

"Thank you so much." I say through the assault on my lips. "You're welcome baby. I love you." Yoongi somehow gets out through the ravishing, my body flooding with heat at the words that always managed to drive me insane. "Oh, I love you so much." I reply.

He lays back on the bed bringing me with him so that I'm straddling his body. I feel and hear the painting wobble slightly as the headboard shifts with us. I look up at it to check on it, but Yoongi pays it no mind as his assault on my mouth has moved to my neck. "Yoongi, maybe we should move the painting first." I say breathlessly, already giving into his actions.

"The painting is fine. Now take your clothes off." He orders against my skin. I chuckle and believe him, just as I do with everything else that comes out of his dangerous mouth and follow his directions.

End of Flashback

I break out of my trance as a chill runs up my spine, the product of Jay squeezing my bare waist once again and resting his other hand on my shoulder. "You okay?"

"Oh, yes." I literally shake my head free of the thoughts.  He pulls me further into his side and brushes my cheek with the back of his hand, collecting a stray tear. "Are you sure?" He asks gingerly. Oh my fucking God, not this again.

I nod frantically and search my purse for a tissue. "Yeah, I just need to find a bathroom." Jay nods and asks a nearby server where the bathrooms were  and leads me there swiftly. "I'll be right outside." He relays to me as I enter, I nod and continue on.

How the fuck did I get so blessed with this man?

Once inside, I immediately rush to the huge mirror and attempt to salvage my make-up in public for the second time in twenty-four hours.

Maybe I shouldn't actually be doing this. Maybe this is a sign that I shouldn't be here with Hoseok or anybody. This is what feelings do, they complicate and they only hurt.

Not when we're with Hoseok.

True.

"Ugh!" I groan as I touch up my make-up and take a few deep breaths before I exit the bathroom to find Jay just where I left him. What a fucking saint putting up with my shit like this.

"Are you okay?" He asks, expressing true concern. I sigh before responding. "Yeah it's just...I just loved that painting so much." I look down concentrating on not going back to that day, but I can't stop thinking about how the painting down the hall was just as breathtaking as the original. "Oh!" J-Hope breathes relieved and excited. "Well, I'm glad your enjoying everything."

"I really am." I answer truthfully and I just smile and nod with newfound energy gifted to me by J-Hope's happy disposition. We make our way through the rest of the exhibit and we end up back at the painting, which I can now see is fittingly named 'Her'. I huff out a bitter laugh before I notice J-Hope pick up a pen and write his name and a number next to it on the bidding sheet in front of the painting.

"What are you doing?" I spit at him without meaning to. Jay jerks back at my tone. "Well I was going to buy it for you." He said in an obvious, but playful tone.

"Don't." I spat once more with hard eyes, feeling incredibly uncomfortable in this position.

"Uh-well, I thought you liked it." He stammered, completely confused.

"I do, it's beautiful, but...That's okay, I don't need it." I rush out, pleading with him not to buy this beautiful monstrosity.

"Look, if you're worried about the price, I-"

"That's not what I'm worried about!" I almost scream, alarming J-Hope and some surrounding guests, my hands starting to shake at my sides.

"I'm sorry." I say breathing deeply a few times, probably looking like a crazy person. "Thank you so much for the offer Jay, but I don't need it...and I have nowhere to put it anyways." I shrug while bringing my arms up to wrap around his neck and step closer to him.

Maybe I can distract him with my charms.

He accepts my gesture, searching my eyes and wrapping his arms around my waist in return; he knows something is wrong.

Smart motherfucker.

"Okay." He pecks my lips quickly. "Okay." He repeats before going to scratch his name and bid off of the sheet. "Thank you." I whisper before I hear the voice of another approaching.

"Changed your mind, Hoseok?"

Am I the only one who doesn't call him that?!

A handsome man, taller than both Ja-Hoseok and I with the same olive skin, black curls and wide pretty green eyes from two and half years ago approaches us with an inviting smile in a dashing black suit and tie. The artist who sold this original painting to Yoongi. 

He matured quite nicely.

"Abolsan!" J-Hoseok let's go of me to engulf the artist in a bear hug, which Abolsan happily returns.

"It's so good to see you again! This is my date Charlotte." Hoseok introduces us.

I don't even think I'm saying that right in my head.

"Just call me Char." I correct him as Abolsan and I shake hands.

"Uh huh." Abolsan seems to be lost in thought as he shakes my hand for much longer than is necessary, his eyes fixed on my face and raking up and down my body. Okay.

Hoseok is clearly losing patience and clears his throat loudly to get his friends attention.

That's cute, we love a jealous queen.

Abolsan visibly flinches at the sound and refocuses his eyes on my face, letting my hand go as if he's being woken up from a dream. "Huh? I'm sorry! It's just...You look so familiar." He squints his eyes and shakes his head slowly.

"Really? Well, I've been told I just have one of those faces." I laugh while trying to send Abolsan a message with my eyes not to say anything else. He seemed to get it.

He blinked in understanding and smiled once more, though this time it seemed forced. "Well, it's really nice to to meet you Char. Welcome to my exhibit. Feel free to browse my other pieces if this one doesn't exactly speak to you Hoseok." Abolsan added in good humor.

Great, he just saw that entire exchange.

"Oh, ha, yeah. Just isn't my style I guess." Hoseok lied smoothly. I really feel bad for burning his painting now. He's such a nice guy.

"That's okay, I'm just glad you could make it." The two catch up as I watch, kept here by Hoseok's grip on my waist, not that I wanted to be anywhere else right now. Abolsan kept stealing glances my way while Hoseok talked, which I think gave Hoseok the wrong idea as he kept pulling me closer to himself and stroking my arm. I helplessly look to the floor as a wide smile breaks out on my face. If only he knew.

"Well, you take care of yourself Hoseok, I hope to see you around. It was nice meeting you Char." Abolsan cheered, giving us both half hugs.

"You too."

"See you Abolsan." Hoseok and I leave without bidding on a single painting and once again I feel like shit after another date.

"I'm sorry I even managed to fuck up the do-over." I say as we drive towards the hotel.

Hoseok's head snaps in my direction and the back at the road. He huffs out a laugh and reaches for my hand in my lap and rubs his thumb over it.

"You didn't fuck up anything, not on this date or the last one. You just...know what you want. I like that in a woman." He laughs and I join him. Pulling up to the hotel, Hoseok somehow manages to walk around the other side to open my door before I can and walks me to the entrance. He stops me by reaching for my waist, bringing me closer to him. 

I don't argue, in fact I bring my arms to wrap around his neck and play with the hairs on the nape of his neck. I feel he might be avoiding holding my hand in public because of what happened the last time he did that and I can't help, but appreciate him more.

"Do you wanna do this again later this week?" He says suddenly, glancing at my lips from time to time.

"This? No." I say gesturing to nothing in particular, but referencing the mini disaster that was the art exhibit. "But dinner again, maybe a nice movie, sure, I would love to." We both laugh and finally get to share another searing kiss that leaves me wanting more as soon as it begins. We share lingering pecks, enjoying the close proximity of each other until I force myself to pull away. "I'm sorry I yelled at you."

Hoseok  breaks into a big smile that barely allowed me to see his irises. "It's okay Charlotte, I forgive you." Why?

"I'll call you. See you soon." Hoseok walks back to his car. "Bye Jay." I say, still self-conscious about how many ways I could fuck his name up.

I take the elevator up and collapse on my bed immediately upon entering the room without getting undressed or greeting any of the girls. It's then that I realize the girls aren't even here and the room is empty.

"Where is everyone?"

[ivoryrosespn-blog]

Hypnotized

A/N: Hey loves, this is my first Jughead Jones imagine! I’m so excited to post more writing on this page:) I’m uploading this from the mobile app so there is not bold or italics but when I get my computer fixed I’ll come back to edit my writing so it’ll be obvious where the lyrics are. Thank you for your support ❤️ ————–

Jughead Jones wasn’t one to truly believe in love. He saw how all of his friends had fallen in and out of love with their partners, eventually he thought, love runs out. He saw love as just a chemical reaction that burned out as soon as another attractive face came along, he had no ideas how wrong he was. But when a girl named y/n y/l/n ran into him in the hallways, Jughead felt love for the first time.

It was very cliche how it happened. Jughead was walking to class with his headphones on listening intently to his favorite artists when out of nowhere a beautiful girl had ran into him, causing Jughead’s books to fall to the ground. This earned jeers and laughs from the jocks. He sighed and lowered himself to the ground, she began to apologize also bending to the ground. Her hand grazed his as she gave him his textbooks. He looked at their touching hands and up to her eyes. In those y/e/c orbs Jughead saw the entire universe. He’d seen stunning shades of eyes before but none have ever compared to y/n’s. She blushed at the awestruck boy before her.

/Jughead’s POV/

“I’m sorry about that. I’m y/n y/l/n.” She said cheerfully as she stood to her feet. I snapped out of my trance at her voice, looking into her face I felt my heart flutter.

“Jughead Jones, it’s quite alright.” The breath seemed to escape my lungs when I caught myself admiring her. She had a sharp jawline, a y/b/t body type, mesmerizing eyes, I thought I caught freckles dotting her nose as well. It was strange really, I’ve never seen anyone quite like her in my entire life. Her beauty rendered me speechless.

All of me is in your hands I could go to Rome, go to Japan And find nobody, not even anyone, like you If the stars fell out of the sky I know I wouldn’t have the time Cause all I know is that I’m just too into you

“What class are you going to next?” She asked.

“I’m going to h-history.” I stuttered. I cursed myself for being such an idiot. Normally there was no way in hell that I’d care what others thought about me, but standing here in front of y/n I wanted to seem like the king of the world. Consciously I straightened up. My eyes flicked to her lips as she began talking again. They were plump and pink shining from the chapstick she applied religiously.

“Hey, I’ve seen you before…do you visit Pops regularly?” She questioned while leaning against the locker.

“Yeah, I go there to work on writing.” I felt a blush creep onto my face. What the hell am I doing? I of all people never stutter or blush! Y/n’s eyes lit up, she flicked her eyes to my lips and I subconsciously bit them.

“Wow. I’ve always wanted to be a writer. What do you write about?” Her voice was smooth like honey, her eyes shone with stars when she looked at Jughead. She twisted her foot nervously as she gazed into his murky eyes.

/Regular POV/

Unbeknownst to him, y/n had been trying to work up the courage to talk to Jughead since the day she saw him in Pops a month ago. Y/n thought he looked like a model even with the bags under his deep, poetic eyes. She would watch him from her booth her eyes trained on his lips which were always between his teeth as his beautiful mind tried to find the next perfect sentence. She had studied his slender fingers as they typed furiously across the keyboard, hard at work. His raven hair was always hidden from the world under his signature grey beanie. Y/n had developed a secret crush on him and now she couldn’t believe that she found herself talking to him.

/Y/n’s POV/

When I looked back up into Jughead’s eyes I could feel the butterflies in my stomach take flight. I smiled giddily to myself as I nervously twisted my foot into the tiled hallway flooring. Jughead was so attractive even when he wasn’t trying. His voice was low with an edge of mystery when he spoke.

“About Riverdale and the murder of Jason Blossom.” He revealed with a small smirk. My heart drummed in my ears when I locked eyes with Jughead.

When I look into your eyes They hypnotise me, I can’t move; There’s nothing more to say now, There’s nothing more to say Hypnotized

I froze instantly as If I had been turned to stone. Jughead stared deep into me, both of us at a complete loss for words. His lips parted in what I believe was awe. I felt myself being drawn to him. The world around us faded into the background we were the only beings in the universe that mattered at the moment. The shrill ring of the bell made us jerk back into reality. I blushed a deep shade of crimson. Jughead chuckled to himself.

/Jughead’s POV/

Never in my life had I kissed a girl but that moment when y/n and I locked eyes I felt thrown into a trance. The noise of the bustling hallways cancelled out, the blur of blue and gold lettermans jackets faded to black and white, in that moment I felt gravity pull our bodies together. As I stared into those gleaming y/e/c eyes I felt the urge to kiss her. I was giving in slowly leaning forward but the shrill shriek of the school bell made me jump back. Y/n looked down at her shoes attempting to hide the blush that slipped onto her high cheekbones. I chuckled lightly my mind racing along with my heartbeat.

“Hey…” I began. Her eyes flicked back up to mine.

“Yes?” Her smooth voice sang.

I scratched the back of my neck. I felt my cheeks heat up as I gathered my courage.

“Do you want to come to Pops with me tonight on a date? I know we just met and all but-” Her giggle cut me off. I froze waiting for her reaction.

“I’d love to Jughead. I gotta get to science class but I’ll see you tonight. Here’s my number.” Y/n passed me a slip of paper and waved before turning on her heels and walking down the hallway.

I sighed in relief smiling at the number before tucking it in my jacket pocket. A smile snuck onto my face and didn’t leave all day.

—

At lunch I smiled down at my sandwich thinking about my date later on tonight. Archie, Veronica, Kevin, and Betty were conversing amongst themselves. My eyes scanned the cafeteria for her. Y/n sat at a table with a group of artsy looking students. Her delicate eyes crinkled at the corners as she tossed her head back in laughter. Her sea of y/h/c hair flowed behind her head. Her pearly white teeth gleamed in the fluorescent lighting of the noisy cafeteria. Y/n wiped happy tears from her eyes as she shook her head at her friends. Her glossy, full lips flashed a smile. For a fraction of a second her eyes floated among the ocean of faces inside the lunch room. Her orbs met mine and a chill rushed down my spine. In the blink of an eye she turned back to her friends.

If the sky turned pink I know that I wouldn’t blink Cause all I know’s that I’m just too into you

Betty waved her hand over my eyes.

“Yo hoo! Earth to Jughead!” I didn’t move a muscle. Her voice sounded far away like she was miles under the ocean and I was on top of the Empire State Building. My chin rested in my right hand as I gazed dreamily at my newfound crush. I was hypnotized by her beauty. It’s ironic really, me of all people falling hard and fast in love with a stranger. Suddenly, I felt a pair of strong arms shaking my shoulders back and forth. Archie stared into my face his features contorted in concern. All of my friends stared at me with worried expressions.

“What?” I blinked several times and slipped back into my regular sardonic facade.

“Dude you were totally spaced out. I’ve been calling your name for five minutes.” Archie said.

“Yeah you were making dreamy eyes across the cafeteria at the art table.” Betty laughed.

“Who caught your attention? Is she cute?” Veronica prodded. I rolled my eyes and pushed my food around with my fork.

“C'mon Jughead! Who is she?” Kevin pressed with a sly smirk on his face.

“Don’t freak out guys…” I said, raising my hands slightly in mock surrender, “But I have a date to night with y/n y/l/n.” I muttered hoping they wouldn’t hear me. Archie’s eyebrows flew up towards his forehead.

“You what?” He practically screamed. I jumped and spilled water on my shirt.

“What the hell Jughead? Since when do you go on dates?” Betty said with an air of disbelief.

“Oh my god Jug! You have to tell us everything! What’s she like? Is she nice? She’s obviously pretty, how’d you meet? When did you meet? Are you dating her? Have you used her yet? Are you going to kiss he-?” Veronica rambled.

“Veronica!” Everyone stopped her by whisper shouting in unison, before she could ask anymore questions. I felt an embarrassed blush flush my cheeks. I pressed napkins against my shirt and rolled my eyes.

“This is why I didn’t want to say anything! Just forget it guys.” I huffed. They always overreacted to anything I told them. I slung my bag over my shoulder grabbed my lunch tray and left the table. I dumped my lunch in the trash and began to walk to my next class.

—

That night y/n and I met at Pops at seven o'clock. She marveled at me all night long, listening intently as I talked in depth about my story. All of the stars danced in her irises she put the moon to shame with her radiant smile. She sipped a strawberry milkshake while asking me what my favorite constellation was. The entirety of the date we discussed topics ranging from classic American literature to what our favorite candy bar was. Y/n was endlessly fascinating. She told me about how she started painting pictures at the age of six. Her first being a woman with four heads and purple skin. We laughed above our burgers genuinely enjoying each other’s company. By the end of the night her hand was laced in mine her smooth fingers drawing invisible figures onto the back of my hand.

My face ached from smiling so much that night. When the date ended y/n drove me back to Archie’s house in a souped up chevy.

The classic chevy’s engine grumbled to a halt as she parked on the sidewalk in front of Archie’s.

“Jughead, I had an amazing time with you tonight. Thank you.” Her lips shined from the lipgloss she applied earlier as she spoke. I tore my gaze from her lips and met those breathtaking eyes of hers.

“Y/n tonight I got to thinking… I’ve never felt so connected to another person like I have felt with you. From the moment I met your eyes I wanted to be your everything. Forgive me for being forward, but will you be my girlfriend?” The words escaped my lips before I could register what I had said. Her pearly white teeth beamed at me she held my gaze and I felt it. That feeling that gravity was pushing us towards each other; All noise and objects melted away as it was just our two souls floating in the universe. This time she leaned in, her gentle hand cupped my cheek as she inched closer to my face. Her soft lips grazed mine. I tilted my head and captured her in a sweet kiss. Her lips tasted like strawberries as we moved in a perfect motion. The kiss deepened as I brought my hand to the back of her neck. My nerves eased when I felt her lips push gently against mine.

We pulled apart for air. She didn’t let go of my hand.

“Jughead Jones, I felt the same connection. All my life I’ve been waiting to find another soul like mine. Yes, I would love to be your girlfriend.” She placed another kiss to my lips. My mouth tingled with a slight burn laced between them. A smile creeped across my face. I looked out the window of her car to see Archie waiting on the porch, the night sky consumed the world in darkness the only lights being Archie’s porch light and y/n’s car headlights. I pressed a kiss to her hand. We broke into identical blushes when our eyes met again an electric shock ran through my body.

“Goodnight y/n. I’ll see you tomorrow.” I grinned. I stepped out of the car and waved as I watched y/n drive away into the night.

I climbed the porch steps and leaned against the railing next to Archie who had an amused smile plastered on his face his arms folded over his chest. I shoved my hands in my pockets. An energy bubbled in my chest as I smiled at my shoes.

“So, how’d the date go?” Archie asked. The ginger turned his brown eyes upon me waiting for my answer. I sighed dreamily. Looking him in the eyes I said

“Archie, I’m in love.”

——–

/Regular POV/

As y/n and Jughead delved further into their relationship, Jughead found himself changing. He smiled more often, he could walk the halls without tense shoulders, he was openly kinder to people. Not that he was rude before he just…changed for the better. Y/n made him feel like he was on cloud 9, whatever that was. He never lost the feeling when he looked into her eyes.

You taught me how to be A better man, a better being And I’ve been thinkin’

Jughead had taken her on several other dates to Pops. The two of them would spend hours there laughing hysterically and sipping dozens of milkshakes. Y/n never once complained about only going to Pops. She fell in love with the small town diner just as she had fallen in love with Jughead; at first sight. They were inseparable. Jughead had never been the type to always talk about their significant other but he just couldn’t stop himself. All of his friends found it adorable, this side of Jughead Jones was happy for once in his life.

/Y/n’s POV/

‘Hey love.’

The screen of my phone lit up with a text from my boyfriend Jughead. I smiled feeling my heart flutter. Quickly I typed back.

'Hey sugar:)’

'Meet me at the drive in, I have a surprise for you.’

The butterflies in my stomach took flight.

'Aww Jug, did I ever mention that you’re my favorite person ever? Because you totally are.’

'You’ve never failed to mention it. Hurry up babe I don’t want to wait any longer:)’

'Okay! See you in 10.’

I slid out of bed and pulled on a sweatshirt and a pair of comfy jeans. I quickly combed my hair and slipped on a pair of red sneakers. I brushed my teeth and chewed a piece of gum before looking myself over in the mirror. Satisfied with my smiling reflection I dashed for the front door.

“Dad I’m going to the drive in be home soon!” I yelled as I ran down the stairs.

“Okay be safe!” My dad called from the kitchen. I grabbed his chevy keys. The night smelled of fire as I stepped outside. Walking to the car I felt my phone buzz in my pocket.

One new message from: Kevin Keller

I unlocked my phone to view the message as I sat in the drivers seat.

'Oh. My. God. Girl!!!!’

'What happened Kevin?’

'I’m at the drive-in with Archie V and B and Jughead has this huge grin on his face. He keeps telling us to “be ready” when you get here!!!! Hurry up I’m dying to find out what he’s gonna do.’

'Be there in five minutes Kev, omg I’m crying!!! Thanks for the heads up.’

'No problem girl. hurry!!’

I revved up the engine and sped towards the drive-in with my heart hammering in my chest.

—

When I pulled my chevy up to Archie’s truck I felt a rush of anxiety. I cut the engine and steeped out of the car. Jughead shot me a cheesy grin as he engulfed me in a loving embrace.

“I missed you y/n.” He breathed into my ear. I inhaled his earthy scent from his jacket. I could feel his heartbeat in his chest.

“I missed you too Jughead.” I pressed a kiss to his cheek when we pulled away. He intertwined our hands as we walked towards his group of friends.

“Y/n!” They all cried in unison. Archie, Betty, Veronica, and Kevin all rushed to give me a hug. I laughed against Archie’s chest.

“Hey guys! It’s great to see you all again.” I cheered. They all beamed at me with toothy grins. Archie waved us over to Kevin’s truck. I climbed into the back taking a seat next to Jughead. He passes me a bag of my favorite sour gummies and I snuggled into his chest. Kevin sat to my left with Veronica and Archie and Betty sat on the truck hood above Jug and I.

“Hey guys?” I asked. My eyebrows crinkled in confusion when I surveyed the lot and saw that the only cars that occupied space were the cars of Archie, Kevin, and I.

“Yes?” Betty answered.

“Where are…. the other cars?” I questioned.

“The screens all ours tonight, love. I have a special movie I want to share with you all.” Jughead answered. I looked up into his eyes. He smiled down at me and placed a kiss to my head.

Even though I know that I don’t deserve this I know that I’m worth it, I want prove to you

The screen came to life. From all of the speakers came a familiar song.

Wise men say, only fools rush in. But I can’t help falling in love with you….

I turned my full attention to the screen. Pictures of Jughead and played in a slideshow. My hands covered my mouth.

“Awwwww.” Betty cooed at us.

“Jughead it’s beautiful.” I whispered.

Shall I stay? Would it be a sin? If I can’t help falling in love with you….

A video of Jughead and I walking hand in hand appeared on the screen. The next picture was of Jughead asleep on my lap with a small trickle of drool coming out.

We all erupted into laughter. I could feel happy tears pooling in my eyes at the next images.

The next video clip was of Jughead and I playing in the snow. It was taken last winter when I invited him over to my house for Christmas. We were building a snowman together. The video showed Jughead setting up the camera and then walking towards the snowman with a top hat in hand. He held it out for me and when I reached for it he yanked it back. This happened a few times. Jughead held the hat above his head and I jumped for it. My fingers just barely grazed the top hat when I came crashing down on top of the snowman. It crumpled into a heap of snow. I looked at the camera with a stunned expression before Jughead and I burst into laughter.

Like a river flows Surely to the sea Darling, so it goes Some things are meant to be

The next pictures showed Jughead and I outside of Pops leaned against my chevy. He closed his eyes with a dopey grin plastered on his face while I pressed a kiss to his cheek. After that picture, one of us lying on the football field with flowers in our hair popped up.

I giggled to myself. The slideshow played on. Momentarily the song faded away and Jughead’s voice came over the speakers. It was a video of Jughead and I slow dancing at the school dance.

“This here is the most ethereal being that has ever graced this earth. This lovely girl is y/n y/l/n. This is us at our school dance, I remember being so nervous that night. When I saw her in that dress I felt like the luckiest guy in the world. That night I knew that there was no holding back, I had to do this. Y/n if you’re listening to this, I love you more than anything.”

Jughead’s voice and the video of us faded away, the original song started playing again as more pictures flashed on the screen.

Take my hand, Take my whole life, too For I can’t help falling in love with you

I heard a sniffle from behind me and turned around to see Betty weeping against Archie’s shoulder. She smiled down at me. I returned the gesture and cuddled back into Jughead’s chest. All around me I heard sniffles as the slideshow continued.

The next picture was of us at a park in the fall. The colorful leaves fell around us as we kissed under a maple tree. Next was a picture of Jughead, Veronica, Kevin, Archie, Betty, and I at Sweetwater River in the summertime. We were all soaked head to toe but smiling nonetheless. Then a picture of me asleep on Jug’s shoulder flashed across the drive-in screen. Everyone awwed in unison. I blushed a deep red. The last few pictures were of us being goofy with our eyes crossed and tongues stuck out at the camera.

For I can’t help falling in love with you.

The music faded away. The slideshow showed a video of us laughing together at Pops diner we were both clutching our stomachs as tears streaked down our faces. The slideshow ended and we all began clapping.

“Jughead that was the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen. It was absolutely amazing. I love you!” I cried pressing a kiss to his lips. He smiled against my lips.

“I love you too y/n.”

“Awwww!” Betty cooed while wiping happy tears from her eyes.

“I have another surprise. Everyone follow me.” Jughead announced. We all climbed out of Kevin’s truck and walked with Jughead behind the huge screen. I gasped at the sight before me.

In a clearing behind the movie projection screen was a circle of trees. There were fairy lights hung around the trees, and a small table with a bottle of pink rosé on ice and several champagne flutes. Jughead led us near the table but suddenly dropped to the ground. I felt my arm tug down being as I was holding his hand. My brows furrowed in confusion as I looked him over.

“Are you okay? Did you fall?” I inquired trying to help him to his feet but he remained on one knee.

“The only falling I did y/n was falling in love with you.” He beamed. Our friends stopped inspecting the beautiful display of fairy lights and turned to Jughead. Betty started crying happy tears again when she realized what was happening. Kevin and Veronica were shaking each other with excitement, Archie looked absolutely dumbstruck.

“Y/n Y/l/n since the day I met you I knew there was no turning back, I knew that from that day in the hallways that you were the one. I couldn’t stop thinking about you nor did I want to. You’re the most intelligent person I’ve ever met and you’re beauty is ethereal something I can’t fathom. Y/n you’re so genuine. You’re a true angel. I love you y/f/n I don’t ever want to lose you. Will you marry me?” Jughead had a brilliant twinkle in those breathtaking eyes of his. His features were alight with joy. Tears brimmed my eyes as I shook my head yes.

“Jughead Jones I love you, of course I want to marry you!” I cried. He broke into a grin and I pulled him into a hug as applause from our friends rang through the nights air. Jughead snaked his hand around my waist as he led us all to the table with the rosé. We sat with our fivers interlocked, Archie, Betty Veronica, and Kevin began gushing about Jughead and I. Archie opened the bottles and poured us each a glass. I held the flute in my right hand. Jughead slipped the engagement ring onto my left hand ring finger it sparkled under the fairy lights reflecting our pearly smiles.

When I look into your eyes They hypnotise me, I can’t move; There’s nothing more to say Hypnotized

Jughead tipped my head up with his chin and captured my lips in an intoxicatingly alluring kiss. His plump lips were buzzed with alcohol but nonetheless the kiss was sober as ever. His lips were telling a story, one of love and obsession, one of how the colors seemed brighter with her by his side, a tale of two hearts merging into one steady heartbeat the melody that intertwined their souls. His story ended when air was needed. We separated and his hand came to cup my cheeks. His eyes locked with mine and this time I didn’t fight the feeling of the Earth slipping into a void. I embraced the feeling of us being the only two people on Earth, we emitted such an intense energy that we fell into a hypnotic state of mind. No words escaped my lips, no movement was made, we just stared intently into each other’s eyes completely consumed with love.

I’m hypnotized When I look in your eyes There’s no disguise; You got me hypnotized

[kaseyspeaks]

NYFW Designer Recap + Potential Skincare Line Launch!

  Editor’s Note:

I MAY be launching a SKINCARE LINE with potential investors! In order to be considered, I need 2,000 respondents to this quick 30-second survey by THIS FRIDAY! Anyone who answers is automatically signed up for a giveaway of my fav skincare products pictured HERE. Help me get there by taking this quick survey and sharing it with your friends and family!: https://www.surveymonkey.com/r/8T9ZBL8

NYFW Designer Recap

And alas! The time has come where I review my favorite designers and looks from the NYFW runway for this February 2018. There was lots of shimmer, sequins, mixed textures, and plenty of autumnal colors. Read ahead to find out about the trends for Autumn/Winter 2018.

http://thestylewright.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/02/Tadashimodels.mp4

http://thestylewright.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/02/Tadashi.mp4

Tadashi Shoji

I look forward to Tadashi Shoji’s Show every single season. As a long-time admirer, I was stoked to see that this particular collection was his most wearable RTW I’ve seen so far. There was shimmer on structured pieces like bronzed work suits and on beautiful wine-colored dresses. His line played on both form-fitted silhouettes and the flow of his dresses when the models walked. My favorite dress was the silver dress with the asymmetrical hemline held up by one leather shoulder piece. Beautiful!

GIFs from Giphy.com for NYFW

Photos-Getty Images

Dennis Basso

Dennis Basso was probably one of my favorite designers who showed this Season. I was so amazed – the Show was full of classy and edgy vibes on top of beautiful fur pieces everywhere! Everything was so chic and so my style – I wish I could have walked out of the venue with every single piece. On top of all that, the venue was extremely beautiful. The Show took place at Saint Bartholomew’s Church on Park Avenue – I even did a photoshoot right in front to finish capturing the essence of it all. I did not have a favorite piece as I loved every one, but I chose my top favorites here (which was extremely difficult by the way!).

Photos – Getty Images and Zimbio

Fashion Hong Kong

I was waiting for this moment to come where I could celebrate my roots at NYFW. My parents are from Hong Kong and because of my recent visit there over the holidays, I was so excited for this show. In fact, a week prior, the Hong Kong crew who put together the Show invited me to a delicious and intimate luncheon, so I felt especially happy when I took my seat Front Row.

info@imaxtree.com

First up, was the unisex line of Harrison Wong (I actually also met him at the After Party too!). He was one of my favorites as there was a lot of monochrome looks with structured lines and edges along with pops of color. Everything looked very high fashion, elevated, and overall powerful.

Anveglosa

info@imaxtree.com

Second was Anveglosa. This was also one of my favorites! This line definitely had more of a feminine and fierce female vibe. With the three main colors as black, burgundy, and white, designer Annette Chan had a sure way of tying all the pieces together to make a statement. There was Parisian inspiration throughout every piece with the berets and feminine structuring of the silhouettes.

Last was Heaven Please+. With such a cute name like that, I knew I was in for some cuteness and colors. And boy, was I right! Bright, pastel colors were mixed with the contrast of black shoes, tights, and accessories as each model walked down the aisle. Designer Liu Yichang drew a lot of inspiration from Hong Kong style and mixed it together with vintage America. There were lots of logos that symbolized Pop-art style which is very popular in Asia along with American 1950’s midi-length skirts.

Photos – IMAXTREE and Riviere Agency

Marcel Ostertag The fall colors and patterns of the jungle filled the runway with Marcel Ostertag’s Show this year. The collection had the beautiful colors of pink, red orange, champagne pink, and of course his signature orange. It’s almost as if Marcel took the colors from the Spring season and turned them into autumnal hues with his wine boots, cheetah print sequins, and orange-belted hardware. Creativity ensued as each piece was a blend of textures, finishes, and colors that left the audience in awe.

Photos – Getty Images and The Bromley Group

Taoray Wang

Taoray Wang’s Show was absolutely striking this Season. There was inspiration drawn from both the East and the West along with classic and modern feels. There was a womanly strength in each piece with bold reds, army greens, and military uniform, in union with lace, feathers, velvets, and bows. I could definitely see myself wearing every single piece on any given day. My style is bold, classy, and feminine, and Taoray Wang encompassed all of those attributes.

Photos: Zimbio

Zang Toi

Zang Toi is another Show I look forward to every Season. For the F/W 2018 Collection, there were royal reds, vibrant pinks and oranges with a strong foundation of black and grey. The floral pattern, fur, and silk upon the sturdiness of the dark colors were a striking combination of strength in dark times. Actually, I was pleased to find out that Zang Toi “designed a backpack for the Jed Foundation’s Suicide Prevention Campaign, targeting 14-30 year olds.” His collection echoed this message loud and clearly not only through the backpack but also through his pieces. The rose headpieces were absolutely beautiful too.

Photos: WWD

Son Jung Wan

Son Jung Wan’s collection in 3 words: fur, florals, and pastels! I definitely felt a lot of Gucci vibes from this collection and I was loving it. The pieces were fun and unique, and I really enjoyed the bedazzled and detailed stockings used throughout the collection. There were so many fur coats and jackets that I wanted, scratch that, needed, from her line!

Concept Korea

Concept Korea’s F/W18 collection consisted of a lot of statement coats and jackets. There were tons of intricate fabrics and vibrant colors. A trend that I had seen through this Show and many other collections was the use of multiple fabrics on one piece of clothing. I was really impressed with one particular look that consisted of a white blouse with a high, flower-laced collar and a long printed grey coat with black fur lining. Overall, Concept Korea showcased very beautiful collections.

Mac Duggal

Mac Duggal was such a dreamy collection! I loved the ball gowns and the essence each one gave off. The detailing and embroideries on some of the dresses were so exquisite and detailed. Even the venue, along with the dresses, made the whole collection look royal – something I could see a queen or princess wear. My favorite look was the jumpsuit that consisted of black bottoms and a white, strapless top that had a huge bow draped to the side. A bedazzled belt cinched the model’s waist. Gorgeous!

Photos: Robbie Bulilan

Dan Liu

Dan Lui’s collection showed a lot of cuts, colors, and fabrics that gave me such a Chanel vibe. The short dresses in this collection were especially very classic and chic. I was so happy to have sat Front Row again and to have worn one of his dresses to the Show! Dan Liu’s collection was modern with twists on classic pieces – the perfect combo of elegance. One of my two favorite looks was this triple-toned blazer that was beige and lined with shiny black and grey borders with a feathered bottom. My second favorite was the pink wrap, knee-length jacket that was lined with black leather borders. Super chic, Dan Liu!

Photos: Fashion Week Online

Leanne Marshall 

Another consistently beautiful collection wass Leanne Marshall’s. This Season, she showed dresses that flaunted her famous, flowy movement. The colors of browns, golds, navy blues, and yellows were very loud and vibrant which stood out a lot in her collection. The use of the autumnal colors helped outline and bring a lot of attention to the movements of each piece.

Photos – IMAXTREE and Riviere Agency

Chiara Boni La Petite

Wow. The Chiara Boni La Petite was such a beautiful and sophisticated collection that reflected a lot of vintage, tailored, and feminine vibes. It was a show of contrasts: The pastel pinks and whites were atop light fabrics and the dark blacks and blues were sewn into the structured blazers and work suits. Feminine cuts were added to classic looks that brought upon an edgy vibe that was irresistible. To top it all off, there were crazy and gorgeous headpieces that provided a fun twist to the sophistication of the collection.

Photos: Now Fashion

Bibhu Mohapatra

Bibhu is absolutely gorgeous every year. This Season, my favorite dress from the collection was the strapless, pleated dress. I loved how the vibrant red color looked right next to the dark black. The little layering of the pleated fabrics was such a cute and delicate detail. I was obsessed with how you can barely notice the bustier at the top through the thin layer of pleated fabric that gave it its subtle structure.

Photos: Vogue Runway App

Lanyu

Lanyu is always such a strong Show. My favorite piece from this collection was the white deconstructed blazer with a tight mesh dress underneath. The blazer went past the knee in the back and on the model’s left side. However, on her right side, the blazer had a peplum cut that fell down to her hips. It’s such a unique and clever piece that gave visibility to the embroidered, mesh dress that lied underneath the blazer. The embroideries used are two different colors of blue that gave the look a pretty contrast against the white blazer.

Photos: TheImpression.com

All Comes From Nothing

I am a sucker for different shades of brown and after one look from the collection, I had chills down my spine! This look was a caramel-colored midi dress with metallic gold designs all over. I wa in love! To complete the look, a coffee-colored coat lied upon the model’s shoulders which was detailed with the same metallic gold from the dress. The coat looked like it had been tied up at the end of the sleeves which is a super cute detail.

Photos: Getty Images

Yuna Yang

Yuna Yang was a very laid-back, feminine, and soft collection that is extremely wearable. The amount of lace in the collection is amazing! I loved the use of the soft colors and the mixed matching of different pieces with different colors. There is a soft blue, long coat detailed with embroidered florals on each side, and lace lining on the inside that I am obsessed with.

Photos: Fashion Week Online

  And there you have it! A very long but quick synopsis of each of my favorite designers this Season. Hope you all enjoy.

Don’t forget to take my skincare survey and share with others for a chance to win a basket of my fav skincare products! https://www.surveymonkey.com/r/8T9ZBL8

  Xoxo,

Kasey

NYFW Feb’18 Designer Recap + Potential Skincare Line Launch with Giveaway! NYFW Designer Recap + Potential Skincare Line Launch! Editor’s Note: I MAY be launching a SKINCARE LINE with potential investors!