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nataliasquote · 1 month

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My Songbird | 1 | n romanoff

Summary: The best days of high school happen in summer and Willow doesn’t want these days to end. Life just feels sweeter this way

Warnings: homophobia (it’s set in the 70s), casual weed consumption, mentions of traditional negative parenting, underage drinking

Pairings: Natasha x Willow (O!C)

wc: 4.7k

note: the first part of the ‘My Songbird’ series! I’m so excited to get this underway just in time for spring. Whilst this does include the secret relationship between Natasha and Willow, this story will also follow Willow’s struggles of not fitting in with society and her parents’ views :)

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There was no better feeling than this.

The wind flying through her hair that streamed behind her as she peddled faster down the street and blew the ties that held her top closed at her front. The sun was warm and kissed the skin on her knees through the branches as she cycled beneath them, taking a harsh right down the streets she knew so well.

She waved to her neighbours and poked her tongue out at the kids who yelled out her name, busy playing with the hosepipe to try and cool off from the beating midday sun. Sweat beaded across her cheeks but she didn’t care. It was just as at home there as her freckles were, brought on by weeks of laying out in the sun.

Her bike clattered to the ground and she sprinted off the second her wheels hit the long grass, ignoring the way the blades tickled her bare legs. She heard laughing and shouting and the sound of water.

The sounds of her summer.

“Willow! What took you so long!” A voice yelled from the middle of the river the moment she came into view. The girl grinned and dropped her bag at the base of the large tree they always sat under.

“I’m sorry! Pa wanted my help in the shop!” She untied her white cross-over top and wriggled out of her denim shorts, tossing them messily in a pile on her backpack along with her converse. A floral orange bikini now adorned her body and she took a couple of steps back before running to the riverbank edge and jumping into the water, completely soaking everyone else inside.

Willow broke the surface of the water and slicked her unruly hair back out of her face, basking in how delicious the heat of the sun felt on her wet skin.

Natasha, who was spitting water out of her mouth thanks to her, now watched on with a slack jaw, almost drooling at the way the sunlight caught her girlfriend. These weeks in the sun had done wonders for her complexion and she glowed almost golden, the lighter highlights in her dark hair still catching the light even wet.

“You’re not allowed to do that when everyone is watching,” she hissed, sneaking up behind Willow and wrapping her arms around her waist under the water. The girl blushed and pressed a kiss to Natasha’s lips before looping an arm around her shoulder and turning to the rest of their friends with a grin.

“What did I miss?” She asked, looking at Wanda mostly, who was the biggest gossip in their group. She somehow knew the weirdest secrets about everyone in the town, sometimes even before they knew themselves.

“Bucky managed to break the rope swing and I found out yesterday night that Carol and Valk made out at Tony’s party.”

Willow’s jaw dropped and she turned to Natasha who just nodded in confirmation.

“Remind me to never be late again!”

Wanda chuckled. “You know that never works.”

Willow looked shocked and shoved water her way, accidentally imitating a full blown water fight. It sprayed everywhere, even soaking Steve’s clothes that were folded the closest to the water’s edge. They all panted hard, the laughter breaking out amongst them not helping them to catch their breath. Eventually everyone retired back to the tree, lounging around in the bathing suits in the comfort of the shade.

Natasha leaned up against the bark and stretched her legs out in front of her, to which Willow immediately seized her spot on Natasha’s thighs, resting her head on her plush skin. Her wet hair felt slightly gross but the redhead didn’t mind, only smirking down at her whenever their eyes met. Willow flung one arm over her face to try and shield the sun. What a stupid day to forget sunglasses.

Snacks were shared around; hard candies, chips, cola and several boxes of fruit courtesy of Steve’s mother. Willow sucked on a cherry flavoured lollipop and blinked up at Natasha, her lashes still dark from the water. Natasha gritted her teeth and pulled the red candy out of her girlfriend’s mouth, wiping the smirk clean off her face.

“I know you know what you’re doing,” she said, waving the treat in front of her face. But Willow just raised an eyebrow and opened her mouth, laying her red stained tongue flat against her bottom lip and chin. The others didn’t pay attention to the two girls, very much used to their way of flirting.

“You are unbelievable,” Natasha gave in and pressed the round lollipop against Willow’s tongue, much to the brunette’s delight. She wrapped her lips around it and hollowed her cheeks, never once breaking eye contact. “Stop it.”

Willow shrugged but couldn’t hide her smile so she sat up and settled between Nat’s legs, tugging her arms around her waist so they rested together on her stomach.

“You guys want one?” Wanda reached into the front pocket of her backpack and pulled out three joints, holding them like a winning set of cards in poker. Steve quickly shook his head, never one to dabble in that. Bucky accepted, as did Natasha, classically.

“Thanks Wands,” Natasha said as she accepted the joint, holding it out for the other girl to light. “Wanna shotgun me, baby?”

Willow did not need to be told twice. She placed her lollipop back in the wrapper for safe keeping and straddled Nat’s lap, waiting for her to inhale. She opened her mouth and accepted the smoke that Natasha pushed into it, goosebumps igniting along her damp skin at the hand now placed on the curve of her lower back. She exhaled away from Natasha’s face and tilted her head up to the sky, letting out another breath.

They shotgunned a few more hits before Willow tapped out, the light buzzy feeling in her head enough for now. Her father would go crazy if he knew she was smoking like this so she had to keep it to a minimum when he was home. Plus, her high came from watching Natasha take her own hits, the joint resting casually in her fingers as she rested back against the tree trunk. She was so effortlessly cool that Willow just wanted to kiss her and never stop.

“You’re all going to Tony’s again later, right?” Wands asked, only to be met with a host of nods. Being seventeen and on summer break meant no responsibilities and more parties. And whilst Tony was a stuck up asshole, he did host the best parties, no questions asked.

“I can get my sister to give us lifts home if you need?” Bucky offered, snuffing out his joint and leaning back on his elbows. If Willow ever thought about dating a guy, his physique would have her drooling, but now she just appreciated it like any normal person would.

“Please!” She said. “No one is getting out of drinking tonight. I didn’t steal a bottle of cherry schnapps for nothing.” One bottle from her father’s shelf wouldn’t be missed, right? “Are you selling tonight?” This was directed at Wanda who just shrugged nonchalantly.

“Probably. The crowds are big enough there and they’re all rich enough so I can really overcharge.” The typical hippie, Wanda sold weed at many of the parties, the floral bag tied around her hips far from an innocent coin purse. “If I make big then we are hitting the carnival next week hard!”

“That’s next week?” Willow asked, her eyes widening in surprise. The days all blurred into one during summer and she wasn’t even sure what day it was today. But it didn’t matter to her. “Steve, you are going down at Bucket Ball.” She narrowed her eyes and he did the same

“You’re sure about that?”

“Deathly.” Willow was never serious and her smile broke her focus, making her lose the rather short game of no blinking. Steve just raised his hands in surrender and Willow leaned back against Natasha’s bikini clad chest, muttering to herself about how she was going to beat him.

The group lounged around in the sun until it slowly began to set. Willow slipped her shorts on over her still damp bikini but stuffed her top into her backpack, really not bothered about how little clothing she had on. And Natasha definitely didn’t complain. They all pedalled home to their separate locations except Willow and Natasha, who made a quick pitstop at the Romanoff household so Nat could grab her clothes and everything else she needed to get ready. Willow sat on the curb with her legs outstretched, tapping the toes of her shoes together as she waited for Nat. Her hair had dried a frizzy, curly mess but she really didn’t care.

Natasha came running out five minutes later, her backpack a lot more full than it was before. They hopped on their bikes and raced each other back to Willow’s, Nat winning by a fraction of second. It wasn’t fair really, she was on the closest side of the road.

Their bikes were abandoned on the front lawn before they both raced up the front steps, giggling like children as they crashed into the house. Nat grabbed Willow by the waist and kissed her cheek and nose before darting in the kitchen and leaving behind a blushing mess of a girl.

Mrs Jenkins was hunched over a chair and trying unsuccessfully to get a pouty four year old to each the crackers on his plate. Willow’s little brother was adorable and his eyes lit up as Natasha gave him a small wave as she entered.

“Hi Mrs Jenkins, Hi Elliot,” she said, taking a seat on the bench under the window. “How are you?”

“Oh Natasha, how many times have I told you to call me Nancy! We are far past those formalities.” She always greeted the young girl with a tight hug and it truly was one of Natasha’s favourite greetings. The woman was so soft and warm, so maternal, and she really tried to savour the hugs she received. “I’m good, thank you dear. You’re looking well, such rosy cheeks.”

Natasha smiled and ducked slightly behind her hair, subconsciously hiding behind her hair. “Willow and I had a race back here and it’s already super hot outside, as you know. Elliot’s grown so fast! You’re such a big boy already!”

Nancy smiled fondly at her son and stroked his blonde hair back away from his forehead, having given up on making him eat his snack. He was fixated on Natasha, as usual, so any attempts she made were fruitless.

“He’s growing up too fast, that’s for sure.” Both women laughed. “Can you believe he’ll be five by the end of summer?”

Natasha shook her head and crossed her legs beneath her. “I remember when he was a baby and Willow would always complain about how much he cried.” Nancy looked as if to say ‘that’s about right’. “I’m always available to babysit him if you need me to.”

“Your mother is so lucky to have you, Natasha. I need to know where I went wrong with this one.” She jabbed her thumb over at Willow who had hopped up onto the counter and taken an apple from the fruit bowl beside her. She was oblivious to the fact that she was being talked about and crunched happily before biting a small piece off to pass to her brother in front of her. Typical. Of course he accepted food from her.

“You didn’t go wrong anywhere with her,” Natasha said in a softer tone, enamoured by how gentle Willow was with her baby brother. She was a wild soul but that suddenly switched when she was around him and as much as Natasha loved the thrill of the whirlwind that was her girlfriend, her tender side was so special because it was so rare and real.

Mrs Jenkins glanced over her shoulder towards the living room with a wary look, making sure her husband was out of earshot. “Don’t let James hear me say this, but I’m glad you’re able to tame her. I was worried she’d never settle down but you’ve worked magic with her somehow.”

It was really hard being anything but heterosexual in this day and age, and to most people in the town, including Willow’s father Jameson, Natasha and Willow were nothing more than best friends. Their friendship group really didn’t care who dated who, and Willow’s mom was strangely accepting, but that was about the extent of it. Public displays of affection were certainly limited.

“I am here, you know? I can hear you.” The disgruntled girl spoke up.

“I know,” her mother replied. “And get off my counter, how many times have I told you?”

“But it’s comfy,” Willow muttered to herself as she reluctantly slid off and leaned against the cupboards instead.

“I don’t care. Chairs were invented for that reason. Even Elliot knows that.”

“Sure sure, compare me to the golden child, why don’t you.” She disappeared out of the kitchen and Nancy rolled her eyes lightly. She really could never win with Willow. Her stubborn nature could not be tainted, no matter how hard anyone tried.

“There’s a party later so I should probably go and get ready,” Natasha said, looking for a reason to excuse herself. Nancy waved her on and told her that their dinner would be brought to Willow’s room once it was ready. Always looking after her children, and this extended to Natasha too, whenever she was around.

The crackly sound of Silver Springs rang gently through the record player as Willow dropped the needle and flipped onto her quilt, screwing up her pillow in her arms. Her bikini stuck to her skin uncomfortably but she barely noticed it. The way all the muscles in her back simultaneously relaxed as she lay down felt a lot better and she let out a small groan.

“Hey birdy,” Natasha said as she sat down on the bed beside her, tracing gentle shapes on the exposed skin of her back. “You’re the golden child to me, you know that, right?”

Wilow scrunched her nose up at the old nickname, having not heard it in years. Natasha started using it after Willow kept wearing tops with large sleeves that closely resembled wings, and it weirdly stuck.

“I don’t need to be the golden child,” she grumbled. “I’m leaving here as soon as I can, so it doesn’t matter.”

“Wherever you go, I go.” Natasha held out her pinky and linked with Willow’s, kissing their interlocked fingers softly. “I’ve always had a soft spot for rebellious girls.”

“Well don’t let my father hear you say that.”

Double checking that the bedroom door was indeed closed, Natasha leaned down and pressed her lips to Willow’s and cupped her jaw, guiding her in a kiss that left them both breathless. It was only quick, that’s all they could do. A heavy make out would be saved for later that evening, in some closed off room in Tony’s house where they could be alone with each other for as long as they wanted. And no interruptions.

“We wouldn’t want him to know how much of a blushing mess I make his daughter.”

Willow smirked and reached her hand up to stroke Natasha’s freckled cheek. “He’d kill you with his bare hands. And then probably send me to a nunnery or boarding school in Switzerland.”

“My birdy, a nun? Pigs will fly before that could ever be a possibility.” Willow opened her mouth to speak and then realised Natasha was indeed right, and she didn’t like that. Hooking her legs around Nat’s hips, their bodies swiftly flipped over so Willow was now on top and she smiled cockily before climbing off her completely and wandering over to her window.

“He probably wishes there’s somewhere that would turn me into a son that he can manipulate into taking over the family business,” she muttered, mainly to herself but Natasha still heard her words over the music. The way Willow was treated by her father was unfair, but unfortunately common. Jameson Jenkins didn’t get a first born son who could help him run the shop, so he resented his daughter from the moment she was born. And her fiery spirit certainly didn’t help her case either.

“If that was the case, then we’d cease to exist. Because as much as I like you, I could not date a guy.” There was an underlying seriousness to Nat’s words and she gently took Willow’s hand, looking over every detail on the face she could draw in her sleep. “I benefit from his loss, really.” There was a sparkle in Natasha’s eyes and Willow couldn’t help but laugh. That girl always knew how to make light of a dire situation.

“Have fun with that thought whilst I go shower.” Natasha dropped her hand and watched her leave before wandering over to the old crate that Willow used to store her records. The more well played ones donned dog eared covers, and Natasha sifted through these to find what she was looking for. Despite her love for Fleetwood Mac, Natasha was forever a Zeppelin and Hendricks girl, and the opening riff of ‘Fool in the Rain’ had her grinning madly as it cracked away on the record player.

Spinning and dancing around the room on her toes, the redhead made her way over to Willow’s closet and sifted through the clothes, deciding that she would be the one to pick what her girl would be wearing to the party. A brown mini skirt caught her eye and she tossed it onto the bed behind her, a few more items following quickly in its wake.

Trusty bell bottoms to match her own, a pair of flared striped pants, a few of the cross over tops that Willow was so obsessed with, and a denim jumpsuit that had Natasha biting her lip. It looked small on the hanger and she knew instantly how good it would hug her curves, and the halter neck and open back still daring enough to suit Willow’s madness.

All the other clothes seemed mediocre in comparison and Natasha quickly placed them back in the closet, leaving her new favourite item of clothing hanging casually on the doorknob. Her own outfit hung opposite to avoid wrinkles and even without seeing them on she knew they’d be looking hot tonight.

The bedroom door opening behind her made her jump and Willow poked her head around it sheepishly, her wet hair falling over her shoulder. “Did I hit you?”

“No, you just scared me.”

Willow hummed and grabbed the comb from her dresser to start painstakingly detangling her curls. Clad in nothing but a faded old oversized surfing tshirt courtesy of Wanda’s many trips around the world, Natasha had a hard time pulling her eyes away from the bare expanse of Willow’s legs. They were still damp from her shower and her skin looked so soft she just-

“Stop staring and go shower. You smell like the river and it’s bad.” Willow smirked at Natasha through the mirror in front of her and the redhead glared but disappeared into the bathroom anyway without another word.

Willow opened the large windows on the far side of her bedroom to allow the evening breeze to flow into her room. Golden hour had begun and it basked her room in a gorgeous orange glow, catching on the coloured glass shards that were strung up around her mirror.

Her mother slipped a tray of pasta and vegetables through her door which Willow gratefully accepted and sat cross legged on her floor to begin eating. Call her weird, but one of the best feelings was the way her hair slowly dried in the warm breeze. It was just so calming, so relaxing.

Natasha returned ten minutes later and they quickly ate, chatting and gossiping between each mouthful. Her father poked his head through the door to grunt a quick hello, but Y/n didn’t entertain that so he swiftly left. Natasha just smiled politely when he acknowledged her presence.

“I see you already picked out my outfit,” Willow said as her fork hovered by her lips. A tomato fell off but she didn’t bother trying to retrieve it so Natasha quickly swiped it up. “I like it.”

“Me too. And I’m not in the mood to watch you try on twenty different outfits, no matter how hot you look in them all.” Willow shot her a look and blew a stray curl out of her face. “Don’t give me that, birdy, you know that’s exactly what would have happened.”

“Maybe I am like my father, because he hates smartasses too!” She jabbed her fork in Natasha’s direction, bearing her teeth at the laughing redhead leaning against the legs of her vanity.

“You won’t hate me when I’m done with you,” Natasha answered, suddenly jumping up and pulling Willow over to the bed. “Lie down, I want to do your makeup.” Natasha pushed her down onto the bed and straddled her lap, grabbing her makeup pouch that had been tossed onto the comforter. Willow didn’t protest, or rather she couldn’t, not with Natasha’s body weight pinning her down.

The record had stopping playing but neither of them moved to flip it over, so the sounds of squeals and laughter drifted in through the open window, families spending their summer evenings in their spacious back yards. Willow closed her eyes as Natasha swiped her brush over her lips, her tongue poking out in concentration.

Nat didn’t add much makeup, not wanting to take away from her sunkissed natural beauty. A small smear of blush, some orange and brown on her lids and a stroke of mascara. Subtle, but just enough to highlight her best features.

The redhead sat back on Willow’s thighs and admired her handiwork, nodding to herself with her lip pulled between her teeth. “Not bad, not bad.”

“Not bad?” Willow exclaimed, her eyebrows shooting to. “Natasha you better not have mucked up my face!”

“Better see for yourself.” She moved to the side so Willow could race over to her mirror, expecting to see an absolute wreckage judging by Natasha’s reaction. But what she found was the simplest yet most effective make up look she’d had in a long time and she closed one eye to examine the soft orange hue.

“Nat, this looks so cool! Don’t scare me like that again.” She turned around with her hands on her hips, head cocked to the side.

“I’m sorry, but your reactions just make it so much fun.” Their relationship was full of jokes and banter, bouncing off each other with smart remarks and quick comebacks. That’s how they managed to pull off the best friend card so well. They really were the best of friends.

Willow flipped the record and they both finished getting ready, wriggling into their outfits and touching up their hair as the cherry print alarm clock on Willow’s bedside table kept reminding them how late they were.

Natasha had blow dried her hair so it now tumbled around her shoulders in voluminous waves, combined with her dark winged eye liner and dark red top to make Willow pause with a hair tie between her teeth.

“Please never stop wearing those jeans,” was all she said before turning back to the mirror to finish pinning up her rather messy half up style. Willow had let them air dry so they were not uniformed at all, but the unruly look suited her far better.

“These?” Natasha turned to the side and smoothed her hands over her butt, frowning at the way the tight back material hugged her figure. “Are you sure it’s not too much?”

“Never.” Willow didn’t even turn around. Asking Nat to wear the jeans was purely a selfish move and she would stand by that until her dying day. “Can you grab my shoes?”

“Sneakers or heels?” Natasha held up a red pair of platform heels that complimented her top nicely but Willow turned her nose up. “Sneakers it is.”

“I pick comfort any day.” Hair done, lips glossed, sneakers laced, they ran down the stairs at the sound of a honk, Willow smuggling the bottle of cherry schnapps inside her jacket that she was going to ditch the moment they got into the car.

Bucky waved from the passenger seat as the girls sprinted across the lawn, leaping over their bikes that they’d thrown down earlier. Willow climbed into the back and Natasha followed, pulling the cab door shut of the red Ford F250.

“You ladies look good,” Bucky’s sister, Becca, called out. She worked in the mechanic shop on the edge of town and was a few years older than the rest of them but still knew how to have a good time. Plus she was the only one with a fully functioning car after Steve totalled his at a stop sign.

“Thanks, Bec. You don’t look so bad yourself Bucky.”

The man in question tugged at the collar of his shirt proudly. “What can I say, decided to make the effort. We won’t be this young forever.”

Willow and Nat shared a look before they started chuckling. “You sound like an old man.”

“Sometimes I think he is,” Becca agreed, smiling at the girls in her mirror.

“Does that mean you need picking up at ten tonight?” Natasha teased, knowing full well that the time was nine pm. She just loved to rile him up.

“Can we kick them out here?” Bucky asked as they pulled up to a stop light. “Just open the door and make them walk the rest of the way?”

“No, but you can walk if you want to.” The downside of having an older sister… she always sided with everyone else. Bucky sank into his seat and muttered under his breath, disgruntled. Or, that was until Willow waved a bottle in front of his face.

“Don’t be sad, it’s party time. You get the first sip.” He craned around to smile at her before untwisting the cap and taking a rather big gulp from the bottle. The taste wasn’t the best but he took another sip before handing it back. Natasha was next, knocking back hers like a true professional. “Ok please leave some for me!”

“Don’t worry birdy, I will.”

Willow seized her bottle from Natasha’s grip and tucked it between the door and her body, away from everyone. “Bec, I would offer you some but I don’t want to be dragged down with you if you get pulled over. I wouldn’t be allowed to see Wanda ever again.” Wanda’s father was a cop, which was ironic considering the illegal activities his daughter was the centre of right under his nose.

“You’re all good, Willow. I don’t know how you kids drink that stuff.”

Willow sank back against her seat, the leather sticking to her exposed back. “It’s definitely a Barnes thing, this ‘old person’ talk,” she muttered to Natasha who snorted. “You’d think I was visiting my grandparents.”

“I can hear you, you know.”

“Good. Glad to see your old age hasn’t affected your hearing.” If Becca wasn’t driving she would have reached behind and slapped Willow, who definitely deserved it. Her cocky smirk in triumph was infuriating to say the least and Natasha was thoroughly entertained.

Luckily for them, the Stark’s long drive came into view and the truck started to crawl up the gravel driveway, bumping over the uneven ground.

Tony Stark lived on the largest estate in the town. His parents were both in business and spent a large part of their year in the city, leaving their house and land to the questionable hands of their twenty year old son. Whether they knew of what went on whilst they were away, nobody knew, but Tony’s parties were unbeatable and unmissable.

The three of them piled out of the truck and waved goodbye to Becca before they assessed the scene in front of them. There were people everywhere; some they recognised, some they didn’t. But the unfamiliar faces didn’t deter them and Willow slipped her fingers into Natasha’s as they walked into the main entrance.

With the warm summer night air, the sound of good music and dancing, and Natasha right by her side, Willow felt on top of the world. She hated the small town life but wouldn’t trade this summer for the world.

#my songbird au #natasha romanoff #fanfic #marvel #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x female #natasha romanoff x female reader #natasha romanoff x o!c #wanda maximoff #bucky barnes #steve rogers #70s #70s aesthetic

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buckybarnesisjewish · 7 months

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The Winifred Barnes-Sarah Rogers immigrant mother solidarity of just picking the last name of a random U.S. president to be the Anglicized middle name of their respective sons Ya’akov and Stiofán.

YES!!! I have long cherished the headcanon of bucky being named after the president bc his parents thought it was a good "american name" and i love the idea of sarah doing that as well. imagine Winifred and Sarah meeting for the first time at Ellis Island with their babies in their arms...

#headcanons #mod c #jewish bucky barnes #jewish bucky #bucky barnes #irish steve rogers #irish steve #steve rogers #stucky #winifred barnes #sarah rogers

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skritchskratch-art · 10 months

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zemo's pets 🥰🐱🐶

#winterbaron #bucky barnes #helmut zemo #skritchskratch-art #bucky x zemo #marvel #fanart #yes bucky and alpine have matching collars c:#shhh we r not going to notice zemos hair being parted the wrong side #it was bound to happen hgjdhdhd

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nancyisthename · 2 months

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A thing I found on the official Shipwrecked 64 discord server

#shipwrecked64 #broadside beach #shipwrecked 64 #walter walrus #you've seen it from this post bois #Walter is canonically T H I C C #call me Bucky beaver cause imma bout to slap them cheeks #captain walter walrus

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bleue-flora · 1 month

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If I wrote a multi fandom fanfic it would literally just be Arrow’s Oliver Queen, Supernatural’s Dean Winchester, MCU’s Loki and Bucky Barns, and c!Dream imprisoned in Minecraft’s favorite torture box, Pandora’s Vault, with c!Quackity and his bag of tools… what does that say about me?…

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escaping-to-fiction · 18 days

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Bucky was also a physics nerd (affectionate)

(Image direct from IMDB)

As a means of procrastination, I’ve been going down a rabbit hole of research about real life John “Bucky” Egan (mainly post war), and I noticed something interesting that I don’t think I have seen mentioned in the ‘Master of the Air’ Tumblr tags yet, so thought to share it, but apologies if I have missed it and this is common knowledge.

It also fits in well with the BAMF!Bucky, and highly competent and intelligent Bucky posts I have seen floating around in the last couple of days.

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Gale Cleven wasn’t the only physicist/physics nerd (affectionate) in the 100th. It looks like that Bucky graduated from Georgetown University a couple of years (1948) after the war with a bachelors degree in Physics. This is mentioned in the USAAF bulletin/obituary about his death/funeral, and in at least one newspaper obituary about his death too (I am pretty sure I found a second newspaper article that mentioned it, but I lost track of it). (references are in the hyperlinks and shown as photos attached after the read more cut off)

According to this newspaper obituary, before the Korean war [but after Physics degree? my assumption], Bucky was the assistant director of education (must have been good at teaching?) at the Air Force ground operational school at Southern Pines, N.C. He became a full colonel while there in 1951.

His military obituary also says that after Bucky came back from the Korean war (1950-1953), he attended the National War College starting in the summer (August) of 1957 and then by July 1958 was back at work with new orders – a year would be enough time for a Masters degree, although I can’t find any further publicly available information regarding what he studied there.

In the years between the Korean war and his time at the National War College, he was stationed in Japan and Hawaii.

(His Wikipedia page also mentions that before joining the USAAF that he also went to St. Thomas College in St. Paul, Minnesota, the only other source that says this is this newspaper obituary. No mention though of what he studied there.)

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So, Bucky like Buck probably had multiple degrees which I thought was interesting in itself, but of particular interest was the fact that one of them was in physics. So I am now imagining Buck and Bucky both geeking out about maths/space/flying physics (aeronautics) etc. (maybe to the exasperation of everyone else). Or did Bucky pick up his physics interest from Buck and did he then attend every one of Buck’s calculus classes in the Stalag, or did he help him mark the homework? Lots of potential fanfic gold!

Below the cut there are some of the references as images if you don't want to use the links

(Tumblr has made this one blurry - HD image via this link, but I have added the whole text to the image description if that is more convenient)

#masters of the air #mota #john egan #bucky egan #John “Bucky” C. Egan #John C. Egan #historical background #and fanfic goldmine if you want #BAMF Bucky #intelligent Bucky #highly competent Bucky #Bucky isn't stupid #Physics #Physics geek #(affectionate)

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weregonnabecoolbeans · 2 months

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I miss tech.

#i miss him and his autistic rizz so much #i miss him and phee #i miss hearing him say um t e c h n i c a l l y #im in denial #and i plan on remaining in denial #even if they show us a body i will be in denial #the empire is the absolute LEAST trustworthy source to confirm a death #*cough cough* ECHO #*cough cough* ANAKIN SKYWALKER #even though im also in denial about this sequel storyline *cough cough* PALPATINE #so many characters have survived worse and i personally believe that any favourite character of mine should have 9 lives like a cat #as someone who has been a certified bucky barnes stan my whole life #i refuse to accept that tech went out like a spideman girlfriend #its just not possible #also if ahsoka and maul can come back over and over so can my man tech #star wars #sw the bad batch #the bad batch season 3 #the bad batch spoilers #tbb season 3 spoilers #tech #the bad batch tech #clone force 99 #the bad batch #tech and phee #btw i love when ahsoka and maul keep coming back i think its hilarious #also this is the first time ive ever used the word rizz and I hated every second #unfortunately i cant think of a better word #anyways yeah…im in denial #kate's post

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bobparkhurst · 28 days

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a concept, in two parts:

paddy mayne would fancy rosie rosenthal (tall, competent, smart, not afraid of him probably, funny) and it would not bother him overmuch

paddy mayne would fancy john egan (tall, competent, smart, not afraid of him probably, funny) and it would give him about ten million crises a second

#paddy likes brunets that are #a) taller than him #b) at least slightly unhinged #c) big hands #paddy mayne #bucky egan #rosie rosenthal #sas rogue heroes #mota #john egan #john egan x paddy mayne #rosie rosenthal x paddy mayne

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evita-shelby · 2 months

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It's Only a Paper Moon

Diane x Bucky

Cw:allusion to premarital sex?

For @yorkshirekiwi

Based around this version of the song

She offers a carved flask, and he accepts it with a muttered thank you. She looked like Collen Moore with those eyes of hers, one brown, one blue. Very pretty too.

“Gin?” He asks after handing the flask back mostly empty. Tasted like Shelby Gin if you asked him, just as sweet as he likes it.

“My dad’s personal recipe.” The nurse said with a shrug and emptied the rest of it herself. The Shelbys were English, what were the odds the Shelby Gin heiress was the pretty nurse with the strange eyes sitting here with him?

If it had been a shit day for him, it would have been about as bad for her as well. Her hair is falling out of the impeccable bun she’d had on when they arrived, her uniform stained with blood and grime and looks older than she looked when he last saw her.

She doesn’t smoke, and yet she took a cigarette break. More like an excuse to just calm down before having to go back to the triage.

“Name’s John, everyone calls me Bucky.” He smiles and wipes a smudge of blood off her cheek with his sleeve.

“Diane, Nurse Shelby when I’m om the clock and Di when I’m not.” She returned his smile and Bucky knew he just had to take out this posh English girl dancing.

“Any plans for tonight, Lady Di?” he needs a drink, to sing and maybe even a fuck too. Good thing he had no prior commitments to keep him from doing that last bit.

Those RAF Officers would hate it so much if they saw him with her, wouldn’t they? What was it that they’d said, an American thinks he can fuck a duchess?

“Free as a bird, Major.” Lady Di answers and tells him where he can find her.

“Call me Bucky.”

They talk about him as if he were a Hollywood star, him and his friend, Gale. They had the looks and the charm, even if Bucky often did all the talking.

She wore pale pink with red earrings, red as her lipstick and her shiny heels that barely had her reach his shoulders. Not that it matters, John Egan was too good of a dancer to care about the disparity in their height.

He’s great fun, sings along to the music and yet knows his limits despite having the same intention as every man before him. She’d fuck him of course, she needs the release as much as he does, might as well send him off to die having had a great night.

“How do you live in a place like this, no sunshine no good food?” he asks ordering them both drinks. He knows who she is given by that grin when he gets them Shelby Whiskey.

“My mother’s foreign, from Mexico, and my dad is Romani, a gypsy if you aren’t familiar with the word. So, I get great food and I can always chase the sun whether on land or over the water.” She thanks the barkeep and wonders if he’s done his research on her like the some of the others have. “Besides, it has its charms, Arrow House is known for gardens and woods you can get lost in.”

Diane had done her homework on him, there was always a need to properly vet the people she slept with, especially since her father was in the House of Commons and his factories supplied so much for the war effort.

Perhaps made the connection between her and the gin. The Americans wouldn’t be so careless as to have him spy on her, or realize she was here to see what sort of shit the yanks weren’t telling the Crown.

John Clarence Egan, from Manitowoc, Wisconsin, born September 9, 1915. A shit singer, with a devil may care attitude that made you forget this war and not some movie. He had a girl back home, Josephine Ada Pitz, the first female pilot in their town. He was fond of Shelby alcohol, something that had cemented itself in the hearts of the American working class even before prohibition ended.

“The best of both worlds, then.” He said and proposed a toast to it.

“I heard you sing, Major.” Diane mentions and feeling her heart flutter when he grins widely.

“Like a donkey in a church choir, but it doesn’t matter if you’re loud. Do you, Lady Di?” Bucky asks with his eyes shining in mischief.

“How about you pick the song, Bucky, and I’ll show you?” No wonder the ladies here were crazy for him and his friend. John Egan could get dowdy Queen Elizabeth to jump into his bed if he set his mind to it.

“Paper Moon.”

Its not long before they’re sneaking around for more than just a few drinks and couple of songs that same night.

“You know what I want?” he asks as they move into the sparse woods on the base in search for privacy. The supply closet was already claimed, neither wished to risk their sleeping quarters and there was no way to go to the bed and breakfast nearest the base.

“I hope its not a virgin, Bucky.” She teases kissing him again and tugging him to her by his belt buckle.

“No, not that, Lady Di.” He presses her back to the tree, not caring they’ll be discovered and punished for this. But he’s a good kisser, and the rough bark turns her on even more. “I want to feel something other than whatever the fuck’s gotten into me, Di.”

“Don’t we all, Egan. Only a paper moon, isn’t it?” The singing, the dancing and the feel of understanding as they gave into their attraction for each other, all of that was just to sate their needs for the night and go their separate ways once it was over. Not that Diane judged him for it, not one bit.

They could die tomorrow and no one but a handful of people would care about it.

Only a paper moon sailing over a cardboard sky after all.

It becomes a habit, she is Bucky’s girl even if they are technically only friends who fuck each other and sing together.

She reads cards and knows the future, not that he’s ever believed in that bullshit, but she’s not been wrong when she tells him he’ll come back each time he leaves.

Wouldn’t be make-believe if you believed me, she sings when he doubts her predictions out of habit most days.

Still this is all a paper moon and she’ll move on soon enough. They all do.

“Won’t your girl back home be angry you’re singing and fucking an English girl?” Diane asks as they devour each other in the little bed and breakfast every soldier has used at some point. Before the Americans came in it was the RAF and before that just normal people with no fear of dying after.

“Shit’s been over since I came here, not the pen pal type, Di.” he hadn’t thought about Jo since he got command of his squadron and returned to flying. She’d sent some letters then once she saw he wasn’t going to write back, Jo stopped writing. They always do.

“Just making sure I’m not your dirty little secret.” The nurse assured him as their paper moon hung in the sky.

“Are you gonna come dancing tonight?” he asks once the moment is over and they pretend they don’t have other shit going on. They’re just another pair of lovers making use of the bed and its warmth.

“Only if you ask me nicely, Major.” She flutters her lashes and kissed him sweetly.

He likes her, likes the feeling of knowing she’s here waiting for him.

Strange how he sought her out so he could feel something else for a change, and got more than he’d even asked for.

Everything’s make-believe until you believe in it.

That night he gets the band to play Paper Moon.

He sings to it and she blushes feeling every single damn thing he is now trying to tell her. Perhaps she really was a witch, after all.

“But it wouldn’t be make-believe if you believed me,” Di sang softly, just to him, as she kissed him like she loved him.

“Do you want me to bring you back anything from my next flight, sweetheart?” he asks knowing whatever she answers won’t make sense until after his mission.

“Last nice thing you see in Algeria, preferably jewelry of some kind.” Her mismatched eyes gleam in knowing he finds it hard to believe her words.

John and those who survived Regensburg stay in Algeria for a week, and no matter how hard he tries he can’t find something nice for her before his tine there is up.

On his last day in Algeria, he buys a silver locket with a carved moon where he puts a picture of himself.

He loves her, as strange as it feels to admit it even to Buck, who only teases him for it.

“You should’ve gotten the ring instead, Bucky.” Gale jokes and Bucky hates to admit that he’s right, but there will be time for that if he is to believe his witch.

They celebrate his return with gin and she wears the locket as he takes her on the same tree they fucked against that first night.

He takes her picture with him on missions and likes the kiss she pressed on the back of it along with the lyrics to the last bit of Paper Moons as part of their inside joke. Bucky is a skeptic and no matter the proof to what she envisions, he still does not put much stock on her words.

He didn’t believe her that he’d survive this long, he is only about ten missions away from the holy number and she tells him she sees him surviving the war. Bucky believes that part after Regensburg, tells her himself as he grieves for his friends who didn’t make it.

“I wanted to feel something that night and now I think I feel something else tonight.” He admits as they sit under the tree, and he wraps his sheepskin over her shoulders even if he is the one not used to English autumns.

Gale may think the sheepskin ugly, but Diane likes the comfort of it, of John’s aftershave and cologne, the faint smell of his own sweat and even the detergent used to wash it. It is him almost as much as he is himself.

She wears it when he lets her, once she surprised him wearing only it at their little rented room. Bucky had undone the zipper slowly and kissed every inch he freed from its confines.

She loves him, and he loves her even if he cannot make himself say it outloud…yet.

“And what is it that you feel, Major?” the witch asks loving the way he smiles at her question.

“I think I’ve fallen in love with you, Lady Di.”

He believes her until he doesn’t.

“You have to be wrong, check your cards again.” He cannot believe her words.

Gale Cleven wasn’t gonna be shot down over Bremen. No, he couldn’t. Not Buck.

“I’m sorry, Bucky, I can’t change things just because you ask.” The witch said and put away her tarot cards after a fourth reading.

He shouldn’t have believed her, why did he do this to himself? He’d never believed in this bullshit and now he won’t.

Buck was gonna live, he wasn’t going to go down in his next mission because Diane’s psychic bullshit is just a fucking paper moon.

Bucky can’t even find the words to warn Buck that night and before he knows it, he’s been given a two-day pass to London. Di offers to set him up at her parents’ house since they’re not there, but he refuses because he cannot even look at her without being angry.

He can’t even tell who he is angry at, her, her cards or fucking God himself.

She gives him her address either way and after giving up trying to forget her with the Polish Widow who didn’t care he had his Lady Di; Bucky finds himself watching the bombs from the window in her bedroom.

Bucky Egan doesn’t wake until noon and calls from the telephone on the desk of Thomas Shelby MP OBE praying to God Diane was wrong.

“Norfolk 7322, please.”

Diane finds him crying and raging against God for taking Buck.

“I’m gonna kill those fuckers, for Gale.” He vows as he breaks apart in her arms.

“He’s not dead, you’ll see when you meet him again.” The witch assures him and he is too out of it to even consider she might be right, just as she was before. “I said he’d be shot down, not killed, Bucky.”

She stays in London while he returns to duty a day earlier than planned.

When packs her picture for his next mission, he reads what she wrote on the back of it on his birthday last month.

It’s phony, it’s plain to see

How happy I would be

If you believed in me

Bucky leaves without asking her how Munster will go and asks Crosby to give her his sheepskin for him.

When Diane saw what would happen in Munster, she could not speak.

He wouldn’t die, no, she’d feel it in her heart if he was, but knowing he wouldn’t be coming back from this mission has her doubting her own visions.

She loves him, loves him so deeply she cannot imagine a life without him in it. They’d joked about marriage, about he’d take his Lady Di and marry her in Manitowoc in the same parish he went to with his parents all his life, how they’d be Mr. and Mrs. Egan and have a daughter named Rosemary Gale after Rosemary Clooney and Gale Cleven because Gale’s a girl’s name.

Harry Crosby comes to give his condolences and Bucky’s jacket at her doorstep, but she refuses to accept his word that he’s gone.

“Bucky’s not dead, he’ll come back here. I’ve seen it.” She lies as she takes Bucky’s sheepskin and cries herself to sleep in it while humming ‘It’s only a paper moon.’

Lady Di keeps herself busy working as a nurse as if she were possessed until a letter from a prisoner of war camp in Germany arrives written by John Clarence Egan himself.

‘I need a new picture, Lady Di, I believed in you so much I lost it in a German field’, he writes and adds, ‘Buck says hello.’

Diane sends her picture with the same words as before and sprays enough perfume on her letter for it to still smell of her when it arrives several months after it should’ve been.

And because he believes her now, she works with the Crown and the Americans to keep him and his comrades safe until they’re brought home.

‘If you can stay put for me, I’ll let you take me to Manitowoc, Wisconsin, Bucky,’ she writes on the postscript of her letter to him. In the same letter she makes sure to name drop her dear friend Lilibet Windsor, the Princess of Wales, who agrees to send her regards if it means he and the rest of the prisoners are not executed by the Nazis.

“You were right, I should’ve picked the ring instead of the locket.” Bucky tells his friend who’s gone distracted by his Marge’s letters.

“Can’t be your best man nor you mine if we have a double wedding, Bucky.” Gale jokes after sharing his good news.

"Our girls deserve their own day, don’t they?” he laughs with renewed strength knowing he and Buck aren’t going to die in this shithole.

He consults with his witch, plans accordingly and so far everything goes well even if they have to wait until she finds what day is best for their escape.

When they escape on January 27th of 1944, he is humming Paper Moon to himself and tells Buck that’s going to be the first dance he and Mrs. Egan will dance at their wedding.

Bucky’s not been a whole day back on Thorpe Abbotts when he finds her waiting in only his sheepskin and the locket at their hotel room singing Paper Moon with two glasses of champagne.

She sings beautifully, she’d be a star if she wanted, but she’s perfectly happy as she is, as the soon to be Mrs. John Egan.

He’s bought the ring, a silver one to match the locket with moons carved all around it. Inside it says the same words as her picture.

“Only if you ask me nicely, Major.” She whispers knowing everything with those pretty eyes of hers.

John Clarance Egan elopes with her the moment the ring is done, on February 14th, 1945, with Buck as his best man and Diane’s best friend who came all the way from Margate, as her maid of honor at the dance hall with the chaplain officiating and the Valentine’s Day dance serving as their reception.

“I heard you sing, Bucky.” Allie Solomons asks, having only heard of him through letters and Diane’s words.

“Like a donkey in a church choir,” his wife grins and he took the bait.

“Pick a song, sweetheart, and I’ll show you.”

#bucky egan #bucky x oc #john bucky egan #john c egan #masters of the air #mota fanfic #masters of the air fanfiction #diane shelby #bucky egan x diane shelby #Spotify

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ofcrimsonenchantresses · 2 months

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“Strange place to fall asleep.”

“It’s good for the back, I have an injury from New York.” Wanda told him without opening her eyes as she lay on the rug in the Latvian townhouse. Now that Bucky and Sam had dragged her on this stupid adventure all across Asia and Europe, she was very jet lagged. She still thought this whole plan was stupid but she wasn’t about to let the boys wander off and get in trouble.

She thought for a moment, then shrugged. “I’ve slept on worse than this.” She added, her fingers brushing through the rug. It probably cost more than the rent on her first apartment with Pietro, if it could be called that.

#c: Zemo #;answered meme #Bucky and Sam don’t abandon Wanda and she comes along as the voice of reason in TFATWS #and she Bucky and Zemo just hate on John together #zemothethirteenth

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nataliasquote · 2 months

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Honesty teaser | n romanoff | wattpad book

Ok hello :) I know this goes against posting on Tumblr, seeing as it won’t be updated on here, but I really need to kick myself back into writing, so what better way than to promote my book on here so that I have more of an incentive if more people know about it! For now it’s Wattpad only whilst I figure out how AO3 works (idk if I even have an account) but I will try to get it up on there too. But… until then… here is the first chapter of ‘Honesty’.

College!AU | Enemies to lovers

Natasha Romanoff x O!C

O!C: Kaiiarina Lenkova (Kaia/ Ky). Sister to JB Lenkov (James Buchanan aka Bucky)

Current available chapters: 9

The classic ringing of an incoming facetime call sounded through the speakers of a MacBook, which made a rather exhausted 18 year old leap up from her sprawled out place on her bed. She threw herself onto her spinning desk chair, which spun a bit too far, meaning she had to grab the edge of her desk and haul herself back around before she fell off.

She lifted the lid and quickly typed in her password as an excited face filled the screen, their voice far too loud as the volume had been left turned all the way up from last night's dance session. Dark curly hair swung against her back as the girl winced at her friend's squeal.

"Have you looked?" The blonde girl screeched, far too close to the camera to create a flattering angle.

"Lena, it's 8am. It's a miracle I'm awake at this point." Kaiiarina groaned before she was cut off by a yawn, which only emphasised her point. She'd been awake since 7, knowing that today was one of the most important days of her life. Every possibility and outcome of her future was shuffled through her head as she tried to grasp any ounce of sleep that made itself available to her. But instead of blissful dreams, she was faced with pits of anxiety that made her dream feel like her worst nightmare.

"We promised we'd open them together, so hurry up!" Yelena was horrendously impatient, which was a huge contrast to Kaia's more laid back approach in life. But they'd planned this day since they were 11 years old, having been inseparable since they were 6.

Their first day of ballet class. Yelena was only there because Melina wanted her to follow in Natasha's footsteps; the golden child. But, naturally, the blonde wanted to be anywhere else, so she was stubborn in not moving from her spot on the bench. Her hair was pulled up into what could have been a neat bun, but she had wriggled so much that her baby hairs were everywhere.

Kaia, on the other hand, couldn't have been more different. Her uniform was pristine, tiny feet slipped into perfectly tied ballet shoes. Her almost black hair was pulled into a braided bun, secured perfectly on the top of her head, not a single hair out of place. She sat on the bench with her back straight, her hands folded in her lap. She looked alert, attentive; her blue eyes wide as she took in every person who walked past. She looked in wonder at the older girls who walked past, admiring their pointe shoes with lust. She was going to be like them one day.

Their teacher called everyone into the studio as a group, knowing a lot of the children would be nervous. Kaia walked in with her head held high; this was where she was meant to be. But out of the corner of her eye, she saw Yelena putting up a fight with her mother, who was trying to coax her defiant 6 year old from the bench.

What spurred her to do this was a complete mystery, but Kaia found herself wandering over to Yelena and extending out her hand.

"I'm Kaia." Was simply all she said. Yelena stopped squirming, peering up at the girl with her big green eyes. She looked at her mother briefly, who just smiled.

"Yelena."

"You know that class is about to start, right?" Kaia stated, confused as to why the girl wasn't in the studio like everyone else.

"Yes. But I'm not going." The young Russian was stubborn and folded her arms over her chest, pouting slightly.

"Ballet isn't sissy, you know. It's strong. You don't see the 'tough' boys doing it, do you?" Yelena shook her head, slightly confused at her point. Kaia leaned towards Lena and whispered in her ear. "It's because they can't handle it. They're not strong like we are."

Yelena smiled at the thought of being stronger than the boys in her class. She was fiercely competitive and she revelled in the idea of being better at something than someone else. Kaia's hand was still outstretched and so the blonde Russian took it gladly, their tiny hands clasping tightly together.

Melina watched the girls disappear into the glossy studio, a proud smile on her face. Those girls were going to be best friends, she just knew it.

And she was exactly right. Kaia transferred to Yelena's school in 2nd grade, and they became inseparable. Even the teachers knew they wouldn't be able to find one without the other 2 steps behind. And when one of them were sick and off school... it was like the one left behind was missing a limb.

When they transferred to middle school together, they made a pact. The girls would go to the same high school and the same college.

And that day had finally come. Acceptance letters were being sent out and the girls had applied to the same university. Which was what prompted Yelena's early morning facetime call.

Kaia scrolled through her emails, her heart pounding out of her chest. This was what they'd worked towards for 4 years. Their extra-curricular activities, sports, dance, languages... everything leading up to this moment.

"Oh fuck." Kaia muttered, seeing the email appear in her inbox. "I've got it."

On the other side of the screen, Yelena had her email open too, the link tempting her mouse, but also making her hesitate. What if their plan didn't work out?

"Wait." Yelena rushed, making Kaia freeze. "Whatever happens, we stay best friends, right?"

"I can't believe you just asked me that question Belova." Kaia scoffed, slightly offended as she adjusted the neck of her hoodie.

"I just had to be sure. Okay," Yelena let out a big breath. "It's now or never."

There was silence on both ends of the call as they waited for the link to load up. Time seemed to slow down, seconds turning into minutes as the loading circle span round and round. Yelena had picked up a hair tie and was spinning it around her finger as Kaia chewed on the edge of her thumb.

But the circle stopped spinning. The girls stopped fidgeting. They both held their breath as a message appeared on their screens.

Pale Oak University is delighted to offer you a place on your chosen course. We hope that you accept our offer and will join us in August on campus. Please click 'confirm choice' at the bottom of the page to secure your place.

But neither of them said anything. They tried to read each other's expressions as they looked back at the camera, but they were so scared of not going to the same college that neither wanted to burst the bubble.

But Kaia couldn't help let a small smile slip, which prompted Yelena to do the same.

"Did you-"

"Are you-"

Both girls started to speak at the same time but paused for the other continue. Kaia just nodded at Yelena's question, not trusting her voice to be strong enough to speak.

"Oh my god, me too." Lena's voice came out as nothing more than a hushed whisper, her hands flying to her mouth as tears welled in her eyes.

"Lena." Kaia croaked out, a tear slipping down her cheek. "We did it." She laughed lightly, which blended into a choked sob.

"We really did it."

"We fucking did it!" Kaia leaped out of her chair, spinning around like an excited puppy. "Mama! Dad! We did it! I got in!" Although she was still on facetime, Kaia sprinted downstairs to find her parents, screaming her results to them.

On the other side of the screen, Yelena did the same thing, racing into the kitchen where her parents and sister were sat.

"I got in!" She announced as she skidded to a halt in her fluffy socks, grabbing onto the back of a chair so she didn't slip. "I'm going to Pale Oak!"

Melina and Alexei scooped their youngest into a huge group hug as they cheered, leaving Natasha sitting alone at the table. She would have joined in, if it wasn't for the news that her little sister was going to be at the same university that she was currently at.

"Natasha, come and congratulate your sister. You know out of everyone just how hard the entry process is." Melina said, giving her 20 year old daughter a stern look as she rolled her eyes.

"Nice job Yelly." Nat said, ruffling her sister's hair, purposely messing it up even further. "Just don't bother me okay? I don't want you hanging onto me all the time. It's annoying."

"Natasha be nice." Alexei said disapprovingly. "Your sister is blessing to us all. We are so so proud." He pulled Yelena into his side, which she did not appreciate as she pushed him away with a disgusted look.

"Don't worry Nat. I've got Kaia. We're gonna be just fine."

Nat's head whipped round and she stared at her sister with a raised brow. "Wait... Kaia's going?"

"Duh. She's my best friend." Yelena rolled her eyes, not believing her sister's comment.

Nat shrugged, turning back to her phone. "Wow. Didn't know she had what it took." She mumbled under her breath for only Yelena to hear.

Rage flooded the blonde's cheeks and she clenched her fists at her side. "You're a bitch." she spat through gritted teeth, before marching up the stairs and slamming her door shut, slumping onto her chair in front of her laptop where Kaia was waiting.

"I'm guessing Nat didn't take it too well then." Kaia quipped, throwing an m&m up in the air before catching it in her mouth.

"You know me too well."

"No, well yes, but I also know just how much your sister hates me." Natasha always had a distaste for Lena's best friend, but no one quite knew why. Maybe it was due to them being in the same ballet class, despite Kaia being 2 years younger, or maybe how much time Kaia spent at the Romanoff's. But the brunette didn't really care. Having Nat like her wasn't exactly on the top of her to do list.

"Well, forget about her. She's not going to ruin it for me, or for you. We've had everything planned out since we were 10 years old Ky, and it's actually going to happen."

"Still gonna be roommates right?" Kaia asked, reading over the email one more time to cement it into her brain. It still felt surreal that they were actually going to college. No more high school. No more living at home. No more living 25 minutes away from each other. It was perfect.

"If you really think I'm gonna sleep in the same room as some random ass girl who snores and talks in her sleep, then think again. I'm sleeping with you or not sleeping at all."

"Well then I think we need to contact someone about it, because I don't even know if you can pick your roommates."

"I'll just say I have major attachment issues and breakdown into floods of tears whenever I'm not around you." Yelena said, spinning around on her chair before getting distracted by her massive shark plushie. She reached for it and pulled it onto her lap, stuffing her face into its fur.

Kaia just rolled her eyes. Yelena was always one for the dramatics. "Well that's going to work so well seeing as we are taking different majors, but sure." Yelena was majoring in sports science, seeing as she was on the women's football team and she loved it with all of her heart. Ballet was never really her thing, so as soon as she could quit, she did.

Kaiiarina was majoring in dance and they both were taking a Russian language class, as it was easy credits seeing as they both wanted to be fluent in their 'motherland' language.

"Well if that doesn't work, we can just get your brother to intimidate them all into putting us together." JB Lenkov (or James Buchanan) was in the army and had been away for 8 months. He was 5 years older than Yel and Kaia, so they joked about him a lot. Plus, he did try to ask Natasha out on a date, only to be turned down by her harsh words. "If you have a dick, I'm not into you."

"Let's just email them. See what they say." Kaia clicked on the email link, excitement surging through her body. It felt real now. But with the excitement came a lot of nerves. The kind that sent butterflies swarming in all different directions, extending from her fingertips to the depths of her stomach. A nauseating feeling descended in her throat, but she swallowed it down.

New experiences weren't really her thing. She grown a lot more self conscious from the bold and daring 6 year old she once was, but within the duo she was still the sensible and down to earth one. A stickler for the rules, which Yelena often felt were mere suggestions.

"I know its 8:30, but something in my body is screaming for a Starbucks right now, and unfortunately my asshat of a sister won't drive me." Yelena peaked over the top of her shark, which she had nicknamed Brucie, and batted her eyelashes rather dramatically at her best friend, who payed absolutely no notice to her.

"Kaia..." Still nothing.

"Ky!" Crickets.

"Kaiiarina!" Oh now she'd done it. The brunette's blue eyes seemed to darken as she peered up at the camera, narrowing her eyes into what became a bone chilling glare.

"Yelena Fyodorovna Belova. Did you just use my government name?" Although she was joking, Kaia made no effort to smile or even lighten her expression, loving how scared her friend looked. Similarly to a deer in headlights.

Lena flashed a sheepish smile. "Coffee?" Was all she offered, trying to hit Ky's sweet spot. "Caramel iced coffee?" Kaia was still glaring. "I'll buy you a blueberry muffin."

Now that was a deal breaker. "Even when I hate your guts, you still manage to win me over." Kaia groaned, pushing away from her desk and wheeling over to her closet whilst still sat on her chair. She grabbed a jacket and stood up, walking over to her table to grab her keys. "I'll be there in 20. Be ready or I'm taking Nat instead." She leaned over her laptop and hovered her mouse over the red 'end call' button.

"Oh wow. Threat of the century." Yelena feigned offense and Kaia blew a raspberry. Childish, yes, but

"Bye bitch."

~~~

Kaia's family was rich, very rich, but it hadn't gone to her head like many privileged girls she could mention. Her father was the CEO of a major jewellery company back in Russia, that had gone global in the last 10 years.

She had all the physical signs of a rich girl; expensive clothes, dainty jewellery, designer sunglasses that were nearly always placed in her wavy hair, pristinely manicured nails and of course, her most prized possession... her tesla. It was an extravagant 18th birthday gift from her father, and as normal as it seemed in a life like hers, Kaia burst into tears when she saw the sparkling white car parked on their driveway.

Yelena seemed more eager to show off Kaia's new car than she was, hopping into the front seat and immediately connected her phone to the aux, Mitski blasting at full volume.

And even though it had been 6 months since Ky's birthday, Yelena still clambered into the sleek white car with a gleeful expression, her phone ready in her hand to Bluetooth. Kaia's once peaceful music was soon replaced with songs more to Yelena's taste, reflecting her wild and chaotic personality.

"This is just like a free taxi service for you isn't it?" Kaia commented as Yelena clearly made herself comfortable, her hands adjusting the direction of the aircon as Kaia pulled away from the drive.

"Yeah, but you're rich so it's fine." It was true. Kaia didn't care about giving Yelena lifts. And besides, it's not like she payed for the electricity that powered her car.

10 minutes later she swerved into the Starbucks parking lot, a smile gracing her face as she saw the all-too-familiar store. The girls pushed the doors open and went inside to order their drinks. Yelena offered to collect their drinks so Kaia took a seat in a booth next to the window and peered outside, watching the hustle and bustle of the world outside.

Her hand was propped up under chin and she soon drifted into her thoughts, trying to process the events of this morning even though it was only 9:20am.

Yelena observed her best friend from afar, watching how she retreated into her head. She knew Kaia's concerns about college, especially with Natasha who was also doing the same course. The tension between the 2 could be cut clearly with a knife, which made thanksgiving and birthdays slightly awkward. But Yelena's outlandish personality always helped muffle the discomfort with a joke or a random song, which Kaia was thankful for.

She carried their coffees and blueberry muffins over to the table and slid in opposite Kaia, who was still staring into space out of the window. Her bottom lip was pulled between her teeth and Lena could feel Ky's knee bouncing up and down as their legs touched under the table.

"Hey. Kaia." Yelena said gently, placing her hand on her friend's knee. "I got that muffin you wanted." She slid the muffin across the table and watched as Kaia's eyes flickered into focus and she took a deep breath.

"I was beginning to think you'd forget." She joked, taking a sip of her coffee and smiling at the taste. Her grin was slightly forced and Yelena could tell it didn't quite reach her eyes.

Yelena laughed, her adorable giggle making Kaia smile harder. "Me? Forget? Never." She watched as her best friend slowly picked apart her muffin, breaking it into pieces on the wrapper. "What's going on?"

Kaiiarina sighed. Her anxiety wasn't anything new, and the duo had learned to cope with it really well. Yelena was goofy but always understanding, switching her naturally comedic tone to a more serious one when she needed to. And she was an excellent observer, which definitely came in handy as Kaia usually withdrew into herself whenever anxiety took over.

"Oh nothing." She said casually, more so to convince herself than Yelena. "It's just- well, college is a lot."

Yelena knew where this was coming from. They'd spoken about it a few times, but Ky still struggled to wrap her head around it. "Yeah... but it's not different for us."

"Why?" Kaia questioned as she bit into a chunk of muffin. A blueberry exploded on her tongue and sent a fuzzy feeling in her stomach. That's why those muffins were her favourites.

"Because we're still together. And we always will be."

Kaia thought for a moment as she chewed. Yes, they would be together, but they'd also be around Natasha and a bunch of new people they'd never seen before. Plus, they were doing different courses which meant different people, different professors, different buildings, different schedules... it was a lot.

Yelena took her silence as a hint to keep talking. "You're worried about Nat aren't you?"

"No." Kaia snorted. "Well... I'm hoping your sister is too busy to worry about making my life a living hell... but you know..." she trailed off and Yelena smiled, having figured out the root of her worries.

"You'll be fine. Besides, you won't even see her. You have me instead!"

"Hmmm... I wonder which Romanoff-Belova sibling I like best..." Kaia pretended to think long and hard, knowing it would mess with Yelena all too well.

Yelena narrowed her eyes and lined up a blueberry to flick, her lips curling into a pout. "For the sake of your white sweatshirt, you better say me. Or I'm gonna find another roommate."

"Okay Miss 'I breakdown in tears when I'm not around you'. Can't fool me Belova.". A smug expression crossed Kaia's face and Yelena huffed, sinking into the soft leather seat as she tossed the blueberry into her mouth and chomped on it with force.

"I hate you." She mumbled, glaring around the half empty coffee shop as her arms folded across her chest and one foot came to rest on the maroon seat.

Kaia chuckled at her childish behaviour, expecting nothing less. "No you don't."

With her infamous pout and inability to look her friend in the eye, Yelena answered "Yes I do" whilst eyeing up the baristas working quickly behind the counter, taking drive-thru orders as they drizzled caramel onto several frappuccinos.

"Okay then. See you around." Kaia grabbed her keys and iced latte and made a move to stand up from the booth, before Yelena put her leg on her seat so she couldn't get out. "No wait! I need a lift!"

Kaia sat down with a scoff. "Wow... so you are using me!"

"Yeah I am." Yelena said with no shame with a mouth full of muffin. "What about it?"

"Remind me why I'm friends with you again?"

"Because you need someone with good music taste to test your car speakers. And someone to bring banners to your dance recitals." A cheeky glint shone in Yelena's eyes as Kaia groaned, her head falling into her hands at the memory.

"No! Never again." She peeked through her fingers to see her best friend sniggering, to which she kicked her rather hard in the shin, earning a pained yelp from the blonde. "You may find it hilarious, but I will never live that down. I almost got kicked off the team for that!"

Yelena rolled her eyes. "Oh shut up. Natty was only jealous because I didn't make her a sign. She would never kick you off. You're too good. They need you to win." She was right. Kaia was unbelievably talented, although she would never admit it.

One of the many things the girls had in common was their dedication. When they wanted something, they were some of the most driven teenagers around. Both sets of parents were proud, although Yelena's showed it a lot more than Kaia's did. Her's seemed to think that the money they gave her was enough to make up to the detached and cold behaviour they showed towards her and her brother. But it just brought the siblings closer than they ever would be.

"We have 3 months until college. What the fuck are we gonna do?" Yelena asked, slurping the last of her coffee. It seemed like a hell of a long time to sit around stressing, which is what Kaia would do.

"We need to buy stuff for our dorm. And I want to go to the beach."

"Okay Ky that's boring stuff. I'm talking sleeping under the stars, going to haunted houses, days at the lake, getting drunk whenever we want! We have all this time and no pressure to do anything. We can't waste it!"

Kaia chewed on her lip before smiling. The sun as shining and it was warm. Perfect May summer weather. "Okay fuck it. Lake day?" She asked, grabbing her keys and adjusting her sunglasses on her head.

"I love you!"

They dumped their trash and ran out to the car, jumping in before racing home to collect their stuff. Kaia's parents weren't home (surprise surprise) so she didn't need to ask permission from anyone. And Yelena never asked permission She was 18 and frankly Melina and Alexei trusted her enough for her to do what she wanted.

"First day of stress free summer is about to commence!" Yelena announced when they were both back in the car. The electric guitar intro of 'Sweet Child O'Mine' blared through the tesla speakers as they pulled out of the driveway and it suddenly felt real.

It was summer.

They were going to college.

Together.

10 year old Kaiiarina and Yelena would be proud.

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #yelena belova x female reader #fanfic #marvel #college au #kaya speaks!#natasha romanoff x o!c #wattpad #bucky barnes #yelena belova #mcu

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buckybarnesisjewish · 7 months

Note

Bucky finding out that all his awkward bar mitzvah photos are now on display at the Jewish Museum of NY and once toured the country as part of an exhibit on bar mitzvahs throughout the ages.

HAHA i love this!

#bucky barnes #jewish bucky barnes #headcanons #asks #mod c

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angelbaby-fics · 2 years

Note

Bucky passing out candy (or sitting with like Steve or Sam who is paasing out candy) seeing some kid dressed as him. Not Winter Solider scary Bucky but maybe like WWII Bucky? Because they see him as a hero.

-♡

oh omg this is such a soft idea 🥺💕

i suddenly got inspired to write this into a mini sort of avengers x little!reader drabble <33

imagine the avengers compound has a halloween party for all the littles, the kiddo's come dressed as all sorts of things but its not uncommon to see a little iron man or cap running around the tower and raiding the various candy stations set up for in-compound trick or treating.

maybe the avengers keep a count every year, whoever sees the most costumed versions of themselves gets a prize at the end of the night. bucky has never really cared to participate, he's not really a public figure the way the rest of the avengers are, and he doesn't mind it.

you'd been on a field trip to the smithsonian earlier in the month and found yourself mesmerized by bucky's exhibit. he never talked much about his past, and reading about his bravery made you see the kind, shy man that loved to color with you in a whole new way. you begged tony to get you a replica of sergeant barnes's uniform in your size, careful not to let word of your costume plans slip in front of bucky.

when the party starts, you run straight to the candy station that bucky is manning, eager to show off your costume to your newfound hero himself. his jaw dropps when he sees you, immediately recognizing the outfit as his but not quite yet processing that the little angel of avengers tower has chosen to dress, out of all the heros in the world, as him.

"sergeant barnes, reporting for candy eating duty!" you salute with a grin.

bucky's awestruck face becomes a wide smile as he takes you in his arms and spins you in the air.

"you get all the candy you want, angel"

steve rolls his eyes at that but really he's happy to see his best friend getting the appreciation he deserves. bucky keeps you in his arms, holding you against his left hip while using his right hand to scoop as much candy from his bowl into your bucket. he spends the rest of the night as your personal trick-or-treating buddy, showing you off to all the other party guests. if there wasn't already a costume party planned then there was now, and bucky had already crowned you the winner in his eyes 🧡🖤🧡🖤🧡

#♡#bucky x little!reader #bucky barnes x little!reader #avengers x little!reader #daddy!bucky #daddy!bucky x reader #daddy!bucky imagine #c #chloe's fic

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fandomfluffandfuck · 6 months

Text

Oh, and my love

Did I mistake you for a sign from God?

I couldn't get blasphemy/religious kink out of my silly little head. It was haunting me, and so... have a little stucky drabble with Father Barnes and churchgoer Steve 😮‍💨 (the drabble that will absolutely have me going to hell if I weren't already destined, lmao)

A soft, breathy moan falls helplessly from Steve's parted lips. Ohhh. Pleasure curls in his gut, tight and hot--burning hot. Guilt simmers in his thick, hot blood. He shouldn't--

But, oh, fuck, how can something feel so good and be wrong? Steve isn't convinced heaven exists because, shit, something better than this? How? That doesn't sound possible.

Faith wavering, Steve swallows another obscene, much-too-loud-for-being-home-in-his-Ma's-apartment sound. His mouth is watering. He's trembling. His hands are trembling, and he can hardly keep a steady rhythm going, his fist slick and tight around the throbbing shaft of his cock. He can't even look at it--at what he's doing. He burns with embarrassment. He knows what it would look like. He's done this before. He can't resist. He can't stay away. It feels so good! The pleasure. The thick, long shape of his penis engorged with feverish blood. Even in his lust addled, instinctual brain, he knows it's unholy. It's obscene. Liquid weeps from the flushed, fat head, collecting around his circumcision scar before dripping down his shaft, getting caught on the plump veins, on the way down to his swollen balls.

Oh, fuck.

He thought he was over this!

Shit.

Fuck.

Steve burns hotter, pleasure and embarrassment curling tighter. Twinned. He can't help the thoughts. The swears. He can't help this--

He thought he was over the unstoppable, overwhelming, plaguing thoughts of Father Barnes. He thought it was a teenage awakening that would pass. Something to do with his hot, young blood. He thought--

God.

Steve hisses but can't do anything else. He doesn't mean to take the Lord's name in vein. He just, he just--

Fuck.

His thoughts got him into all this trouble. Why can't he resist his thoughts!? Overcome the struggle. He wanted. No. He didn't--he didn't want--

He didn't want--

He shouldn't've gone to church with his Ma on his break home from college. He really fucking shouldn't have. He shouldn't've known better. Temptation. He didn't need to. He could've claimed he attended worship before he left campus; he could've played hooky. But he didn't. Instead, he walked right up to the tree and took a bite of the first luscious piece of fruit he could find and sunk his teeth in, the sticky, sweet juice flowing in rivers down his chin. There was no need to wait a luring, tricking serpent, Steve did it all to himself.

Shit.

He's so weak. So, so weak.

Fuck it.

Steve gives in. He moans. Loud. All he can do is send a fleeting prayer to God that his Ma is still out and that he hasn't lost so much time in his indulgence that she's returned. He needs to be alone. He's sinking into his imagination. His filthy imagination is dripping so thick with sin that he can taste it in the back of his throat. It tastes like cinnamon and pure, flickering flames.

Using the arm that isn't engaged in shamefully pleasuring himself--he can't use that arm! He can't stop!--Steve throws it over his eyes, his nose nestled in the crook of his elbow. And again, he can't help but moan. With his eyes shut, images just as vivid in the beautiful stained glass windows of the church flash beneath his lids.

Father Barnes is towering over him after communion. The crowds of believers are gone. The congregation has disappeared entirely, so it is just them alone in the nave. Father Barnes' cassock is tight around his thick throat but flows over his broad shoulders and down his solid chest. Steve wants to touch him. His palms are sweaty, pressed together, and his fingers curl together. Hands resting in his lap. He can't touch.

He wouldn't dare.

Steve is kneeling at the steps to the stage, before the pulpit, as if he's eagerly awaiting the next sermon.

He's kneeling, hands folded for prayer. And Father Barnes is standing above him. The excess wine from communion sloshes in a goblet in one of his large hands. Rich. Dark. Sweet. Father blesses him, and one of his hands, large and square with blunt nails, tangle in Steve's golden hair, using it like a handle to pull his head back, commanding him to open his mouth.

Steve obeys. He is nothing if not a willing servant of the Lord. He will serve Father Barnes.

Father pours and pours and pours.

In his imagination, the taste of wine explodes over Steve's tastebuds, filling his throat and making his head spin. Intoxicating. He will not choke. He swallows and swallows and gurgles his thanks to Father--to the Lord.

He could weep in pleasure. Steve squeezes himself unforgivingly hard. Gasping.

Ah!

Wine overflows thickly, sweetly out of his gaped mouth, over his lips, down his chin, off his jaw, and spills onto his bare chest. His nipples are hard. Tight. His chest heaves, fighting to breath--fighting to accept it and not choke. Still, the stream of communion wine does not stop. Steve drinks all of it. All the blood. He is blessed. Eager to be blessed. He will take it all inside of him, and he will be blessed.

Please.

Father Barnes holds tightly to his golden hair, forcing him to take the last drops of wine--staining his pale, freckled flesh like blood. The only thing Steve has seen Father Barnes cling to so tightly is his rosary or his beloved annotated copy of the Bible. He is clinging to Steve tightly. Holding him in place. Steve feels holy. He glows from the inside out with the light of Heaven.

Swallowing.

Steve shivers so hard, picturing himself kneeling at the mercy of Father Barnes, that he shakes himself from the first fantasy and into the next, jerking himself hard, tight, rough, moaning louder still.

Fuck.

Shit.

He jerks himself wildly. Hard. Rough. The sounds are wet and filthy and unmistakable. Obviously sinful. Erotic.

Fuuuuck.

Fuck.

Steve's no longer kneeling. Instead, he has been thrown over one of the pews. He is still bared before Father Barnes. Father Barnes stands behind him, his hands hot, like brands, over his shoulders and back and hips. Steve's cock twitches. He feels the closest to God that he ever has.

The wet fap fap fap of his fist around his cock becomes something even more shameful and deviant in his fantasies--his eyes shut tighter--

Oh, oh!

Father Barnes' thick, long fingers are delving deep into him, wet and stretching him out, forcing his way into his body. No one else has. Steve doesn't--he doesn't really know. But. It, it's all he wanted since all of this sin first awoke in him. He knows--he might not know, but he knows it would be good.

So good.

Father Barnes would take care of him.

Steve knows it would be so good that he can't stop making sounds. In his room and in his fantasy. Breathing heavily. Moaning. Groaning. Gasping. Whimpering. White-knuckling the pew, pressing back to the intimate press of his fingers. Crying. He doesn't know what he's feeling. He just knows that it is not of Earth. It is Heavenly. It is bright white. Brilliant. Fire is inside him. Heaven and the flames of Hell warring.

Oh!

Ah!

Fuck!

The sounds Steve can't help but make are so, so, soooh loud that he can picture the beautiful, elegant, stained glass windows shattering. He burns in shame, knowing that this is the worst thing these ancient, sacred walls have heard. He is mortified, but it feels too good to plead for it to stop. The lush sin is too tempting. He's too weak. He's--he's soft. He's soft-willed. He's not soft.

Fuuck.

Steve twists his wrist and fucks his hips up into his fist. It feels incredible. He squeezes. He rocks his hips. He rolls his throbbing balls in his hand.

He's so hard.

He can't imagine the pressure, the pleasure of his swollen, engorged dick against the cold, polished line of the wooden pew. He can't imagine the untamed, unholy pleasure of Father Barnes' fingers working inside him. Cooing at him, voice smooth and low, to be patient and take what he is given and no more, whenever he presses his ass back. Needing more.

More.

With the heightening pleasure, the image shifts, melting into something new. Something hotter. If possible.

Father Barnes' voice is the first thing to come to Steve. He purrs to Steve that he is a lamb, his plush, shapely lips brushing the shell of Steve's ear. Goosebumps appear all over Steve's flesh.

He shudders. He nods.

Father is right.

He is but one sheep in the flock, needing direction, foolish, and in need of a protector. A sweet, little lamb. A lost lamb. Father will show him the way. He will show him suffering and prevailing. He will show him faith.

Steve believes in him.

He believes desperately, and he opens his eyes in the fantasy, suddenly finding himself in the church, at the center of the stage. He is the sermon. The center of attention. He is displayed. Arms spread apart. Legs hanging long and tied together at the ankle.

Oh.

Steve moans raggedly, the sound grating against his throat. Eager and perverse.

Fuck.

He is--

He is displayed, strung up on the cross. Bared head to toe. No way to hide. Shame burns through him like hell. How is it so sweet, then?

Father Barnes has made him into the next sacrifice. A lamb on the alter. A body on the cross. The taste of wine is thick in his mouth. It drips from his lips. His fingertips are stained. His head is lulled back. He can not see straight. All he can feel is Heaven. Pleasure.

Pleasure.

He has never felt anything so divine.

Steve convulses as if possessed on his squeaky, twin bed from his childhood. Fantasizing about sinful, horrible things that pollute his mind. He can't. He can't!

He's so, so close that it's painful.

Father's hands caress him. Dragging boldly down shoulders, over his expanding and contracting ribs, onto his abs, past his hips, and to his lega--bypassing his mortifyingly hard penis without comment. It throbs so hard that jerks.

Steve squirms and writhes and shakes into the next perverse imagine to overtake him like a demon crawling into his body.

This time, it's not rich, sweet wine in his mouth, dancing on his tongue. It's metallic, it's, it's--

Steve's teeth rattle, choking, clenching down on the taste of Father Barnes' rosary, stuffed into his mouth to muffle his cries while his thick, hot, throbbing cock shoves itself into his hole. Using him.

Oh, oh, oh.

Steve can't catch his breath. He has never been so full in his life. He has never felt more purpose. This is what he is for. Serving his purpose. Worship has never been so good.

Sweet, little lamb, Father purrs. A sign from God, you are. An offering. Precious. Lamb. Meant to follow. Meant to serve, weren't you?

Steve whines through his nose, gnawing at his bottom lip until the taste of copper floods his mouth. He moans openly then. Shaking. Trembling as if the Holy Spirit has taken him, moving through him.

The filth takes more shape, he isn't kneeling to pray, he isn't bent over a pew, he isn't displayed as a sacrifice on the cross, he is braced shakily against the wooden pulpit, facing out to where the pews would fill with the members of the congregation. Father is behind him. Thrusting into him like he wants to break him. Like he wants to tear him apart.

My boyyy, Father Barnes' lips and teeth graze his throat, so close to his wildly thundering pulse.

The rosary slips from Steve's mouth, just a bit, only for Father to correct his mistake. Forgiving. Groaning and stuffing it back where it belongs in his mouth. Steve is drooling. He's whimpering. He's gasping. He's aching. So hard. His cock keeps hitting the pulpit with how forcefully he's being fucked.

He moans, and the rosary and all its beautiful, delicate beads tumble out from his swollen mouth, covered in saliva and ruining the pages of the open Bible. The ink runs and spreads. Father! Steve cries. Father Barnes, Father, oh, oh--

OH, GOD!

Steve takes the Lord's name in vain and spirals with hot, thick shame at the same time that he is taken by pleasure. White, hot pleasure. Swelling inside him, violent and holy and impossible. An orgasm. A sinful, brilliant orgasm with the taste of metal and wine and flesh on his tongue.

Father growls over his shoulder, shoving into him once last time as he presses his face unkindly against the wet rosary and ruined Bible and spills into him. Steve silently pants, pages of the Bible sticking to his cheek. The wet ink is going to leave scripture printed across his pale, flushed skin.

Jesus Christ.

Back in his body, lying in his bed in a pool of sweat, Steve murmurs a prayer reflexively. Psalm 32:1. Forgiveness. Guilt swirls inside him. It burns as he catches his breath. The mess of his sin is sticky and getting tacky on his skin. There's a wine stain on his cheeks. Blushing. He needs to clean up before Ma gets home. He needs to clean up before his imagination swallows him again with Devilish ideas, and he's sucked back in. He wants to sob in sweet pleasure and awful humiliation at the thought of confessing to anyone what he's done. He pictures the open shock on Father Barnes' face if he did confess and...

Oh, God.

Steve almost orgasms again.

#fandomfluffandfuck #steve rogers #bucky barnes #stucky #uhhhhhhh #I'm sorry and not sorry for this lol #Spotify #ALSO #the song JESUSCHRIST SUPERSTAR by Black Swan F U C K S with blasphemy kink

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