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𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠; 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐝

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- 𝘀𝘁𝗲𝘃𝗲 𝗿𝗼𝗴𝗲𝗿𝘀 -

winter rose

banshee (coming soon)

- 𝗯𝘂𝗰𝗸𝘆 𝗯𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗲𝘀 -

dancing after death

redemption (coming soon)

- 𝗽𝗲𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗽𝗮𝗿𝗸𝗲𝗿 -

rising from the ashes

- 𝘀𝗮𝗺 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝘀𝗼𝗻 -

horizons

- 𝗹𝗼𝗸𝗶 -

reaper (coming soon)

- 𝗱𝗿𝗮𝗯𝗯𝗹𝗲𝘀 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗺𝗽𝘁𝘀 -

𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐲 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭 - 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

steve rogers

bucky barnes

tony stark

peter parker

CHAPTER ONE

2011

Us Air Force Base, Nevada

ELIZABETH TOOK A leisurely stroll around the foundation, savoring the early morning peace. As others prepared for the day ahead, small tinkering sounds could be heard.

She sipped her Earl Grey, if she could even call it that. It had been almost seven years since she had moved from the UK to the states, and the main thing she had come to realize was that British tea was simply superior.

The tea may be like drinking dishwater, but it definitely didn't stop her from drinking three cups a day, minimum. It was routine at this point and kept her sane.

She was usually alone, or at least the only one up, on her morning walk around the base, given that she had no particular job to do this early. She preferred the silence of early morning to that of every other time of day. It was silent for the majority, the only sounds were minimal and easily faded into the background.

Today, however, would be different.

She was not alone in the early hours of this particular morning. At the very least, she was not the only one who thought it would be worthwhile to be awake long before they were required in the hangar for their scheduled shift.

Elizabeth had not intended to stare.

It was only intended to be a fleeting glimpse, maybe a polite smile if unintended, mildly uncomfortable eye contact arose. But then her attention was drawn to his arms, and she had no reservations about admitting it. While she couldn't see what book he was reading, she became intrigued by this stranger's literary tastes. He was sitting on the ground, leaning against the hangar wall. Elizabeth had tried her hardest not to notice how the early morning sun was shining perfectly on him, and she was also trying her hardest not to subtly cast her eyes up and down his physique.

But tried as she might, it did not work.

Especially, as it was at the exact moment that she brought her eyes back up to glance at his features, that a pair of deep brown eyes met her grey ones. As he raised his book in a salute-like gesture of acknowledgment, he had a small smirk on his face.

She gave him a small smile in return, feeling somewhat awkward at the notion of being caught. After tipping her mug in his direction in response, she slowly pivoted and walked away towards her barracks to change. The image of the stranger's smile - and arms, burned in her brain.

"So, you must be Queenie."

Elizabeth looked up from her papers to see a toned man standing in front of her, wearing a grey uniform, much like herself; his hair was dirty blonde and his skin was tanned from his apparent years of service. She was sure that she had never formally met or at the very least seen the man in front of her.

"Excuse me?"

"I'm Riley," he extended his hand as he sat on the bench across from her. The giant smile on his face left her even more confused as it was one that you would give someone you were familiar with - a former colleague, or family friend possibly. And she did not recognize him as either, or at all for that matter. Elizabeth hesitantly shook the offered hand.

"Look, I'm really sorry. I'm usually very good with putting names to faces, but I-" She interrupted herself, her focus suddenly switching to the first thing he said. "Did you call me Queenie?"

He chuckled before answering, "Yeah, that's your call sign, isn't it?"

He said it as if it were evident, as if it had always been the case, as if it had just slipped her mind. She had always thought that the commanding officer assigned recruits with their call signs? Or at least be told in a more grandeur way?

"Oh!" Not much stunned Elizabeth. She was aware of call signs; she just didn't intend to learn hers in a manner that made it seem as though she should already know it. "I wasn't aware."

Riley was watching her from across the table, which made her feel a little out of place. She shook her head and returned her attention to trying to figure out who this guy was. "So who are you and how do you know my call sign?"

"I'm Riley." He repeated with a pointed glance, and smirked once when he saw her eyes roll dramatically. He leaned against the wall beside him, his arms folded against his chest; his body angled forward slightly.

"So here's the thing. My buddy saw you the other day and is incapable of not talking about you. He doesn't know your name, only what you look like, that you're also in the air force, obviously, and that you have a Union Jack coffee mug. So I decided to be his wing man and it just so happened you are all those things and I saw the mug and well."

He put his hands out as if presenting an award. "Queenie."

Elizabeth squinted her eyes, trying to process everything while remembering the plethora of men on base who could've seen her mug, which after two years on base was practically everyone? However, she thought to herself, she had only been located at this particular air field for the last seven weeks.

"And does this friend have a name?" She said whilst quipping a brow and glancing at him, a small smirk played on her lips.

Elizabeth eventually caved and mustered the courage to approach Sam Wilson after three weeks of covert glances, inadvertent eye contact, and shy salutes of coffee mugs at sunrise.

He was sitting on the ground, leaning against the hanger, with a book in his hand. She sat next to him, her coffee mug in her hand, quietly chuckling as she startled him.

As she spoke, she leaned in close to obtain a sight of a page, clearly invading his personal space, but that was a Knight trait.

She got a glimpse of the dark and foreboding cover page of the Stephen King novel he held in his hands. She had never been one for horror stories - she was incredibly jittery, and would scare far too easily; it was something that her father would always tease her about, especially as he took great delight in frightening her with cliche ghost stories throughout her childhood.

And so, trying to cover her distaste, and took a sip of her tea, "I'm Elizabeth, by the way," she smiled and semi-awkwardly extended her hand, "Or apparently Queenie, but you probably knew that considering Riley, I think it was - he already gave me that call sign based on what he heard from you. You're Sam, right?"

Sam merely observed her for a few seconds, a soft smile on his face. He grinned quietly at her natural ramblings - it was plainly an unconscious habit-and it was one of appreciation. He reached for her hand and smiled bigger at the warm feeling as he firmly squeezed her hand in a greeting, "Yeah. I'm Sam."

"So, what makes you want to read a horror novel? I was hoping for something a little more upbeat."

"I don't know," Turning his hand over allowing the books pages to fan across his thumb, his eyes cast over the atmospheric cover; Sam shrugged - he hadn't really thought about it before. "I suppose it takes my mind off being here."

"You know, I never understood why people say that." Sam raised an eyebrow, intrigued by what she was saying. "We are all here because we want to be, for the most part. I mean, unless you had no other options, such as going to college or even getting a job, and the military was the only thing you felt you could contribute to."

She looked over at Sam and wanted to continue but the smile growing on his face stopped her. It was a somewhat coy smile, as if he knew something she didn't.

"I meant, as in being here, as we are now," he said a little quieter, leaning his head in her general direction. "I read to escape."

"Oh." She internally grimaced at her rambling outburst; they had become something of an occupational hazard over the years. "Well, I'll leave you to your escape. Sorry for rambling." She mumbled the last part of her apology, feeling embarrassed as she quickly scrambled to her feet.

"You don't have to leave," Sam reached out before she could even make a move to get up, "If it's any consolation, I could use a distraction."

Elizabeth was not a blusher. At least, she did not believe herself to be. Of course, like everyone else, she got embarrassed but she certainly did not blush. Especially in front of men.

no borders, just horizons. only freedom

OCCASIONALLY 18+

read it on wattpad

pairing | sam wilson x original female character

face claim | on wattpad, i use bryce dallas howard as the face claim for elizabeth. you may wish to do the same, or if you can chose someone else entirely.

warnings | mild to strong language, adult humour, angst, violence, sfw content, nsfw content, mentions of ptsd and depression.

disclaimer | i do not own any of the pictures, gifs, etc included. i do not own any of the marvel cinematic stories or characters. i only have ownership of my characters - elizabeth knight.

feedback, requests and constructive criticism are all welcome.

PART ONE

prologue

Chapter One

CHAPTER FIVE

WILDFLOWER

March 19, 1943

THINGS WERE CALM IN THE CAMP. Which meant Doctor Wright was trying to catch up on non-essential surgeries. Non-essential surgeries meant a ton of washing up. It was starting to get to Alice. This could be the fifth dish she had disinfected , or it could be the fiftieth.

Gwen lifted the metal bowl out of her hands. "Go get lunch. I can finish cleaning this up."

"Gwen, no." Alice reached to take the bowl back. "You've been on your feet since the crack of dawn, Alice. You should take a break."

Gwen shook her head. "Lawrence's squad is out on maneuvers. I can't eat and I can't sit still. I can scrub an instrument tray to within an inch of its life. Go. Maybe flirt with one of the off- duty boys. Kiss someone you have no intention of marrying. You're only young once after all."

"First of all. We're the same age. Stop acting like you're 100. Second. I don't go around kissing people I don't see a future with. It isn't proper."

"Now you sound like your mother." Gwen snorted.

"Oh god, no," Alice made a disgusted face and shook her head. Of course she loved her mother, but she was not the woman Alice had envisioned herself to become. "Kiss someone, you said?"

"That was my initial suggestion. Although I'm sure she would be just as scandalized if you let them carry your lunch without intending to marry them."

"The worst part is she would be." Alice squeezed Gwen around the shoulders. "I'll bring you back a sandwich. Starving yourself won't help anyone."

It had been a month since Bucky had danced with the lovely nurse with the dazzling smile.

He hadn't managed to talk to her the day he got his stitches out. Or the time some klutz dropped an ammunition canister on his foot. The canister hadn't broken anything but his CO insisted he got it checked out by medical.

In reality, he had only been able to smile at her four times in the previous month. If you didn't follow up on a girl like that in a place with so much competition, someone else would. He wasn't about to pass up another opportunity to make her happy.

"Sister Harding!"

Alice hoped the squeaking noise she made wasn't audible to anyone else. "Sergeant Barnes. You're waiting around for me now?"

"No. Yes, but not in a weird manner." Bucky jogged up to her, his hands in his jacket pockets. "Please, feel free to slap me if I'm misreading this. I didn't think it would bother you ."

"I'll keep that option in my back pocket." Alice tried not to smile too wide at the idea he was waiting for her.

"I got you something."

"A present? For me?" Alice batted her eyes playfully. Bucky didn't need to know how much the idea made her heart skip a beat. She couldn't resist a gift.

Bucky pulled a shiny red apple out of his pocket; he tossed it into the air before catching it neatly and offering it to her.

The nicest part of his day was flirting with the few girls at the camp, and his favorite was the charming nurse, with the captivating eyes and infectious smile.

Alice accepted the apple, bemused. She had expected chocolate, or one of the other trinkets GI's thought made all the girls go crazy. "Thanks, I love... fruit."

"That's not just any fruit." Bucky beamed, turning on the full force of his smile. "That right there is a premium apple. Intact skin. No soft spots. Crisp and sweet. That's the kind of apple grown men fight for."

Alice's face fell. Fighting in the camp was trouble for everyone, but especially for medical. "Tell me you didn't get in a fight to get me an apple."

"Nah." Bucky ran a hand over the short fluff of his hair. "Traded two cigarettes for it."

A high price indeed. "Perhaps you'd like to share it with me then?" And wasn't it fitting that her biggest temptation should present her with something like this? At the thought, her lips curled into a smile.

Bucky flipped a knife into his hand. "You're too good to me, doll."

"Oh." Alice jumped back in surprise. She hadn't been expecting that.

Bucky held up his hands apologetically. "Sorry, didn't mean to startle you."

Alice took the knife from his grip. He wasn't attempting to frighten her, and he was clearly sorry. There's no reason to squander such a thoughtful gesture.

"I'll cut."

May 10th, 1943

Nurses and other female camp staff had their own table in the mess tent. One the senior officer and head nurses were viciously protective of.

Alice had the seat at the end for breakfast today. She had mixed feelings about the spot. There was more leg room towards the end, but it was also next to a table full of soldiers, which sometimes resulted in amusing flirting and other times resulted in dumping a glass of water over the head of an overbearing suitor.

"How's my favourite nurse this beautiful morning?"

Alice looked up at the welcome voice. Bucky had been missing for the better part of two weeks. Out with his company, she assumed, but she didn't ask too many questions. Loose lips and all that. "You know it's raining right ?" Bucky grinned and slipped a slightly battered wildflower onto her breakfast tray. "Yeah, but I slept in a cot with clean blankets and I get to eat breakfast next to a pretty girl."

Alice picked up the butter yellow daisy and waved it at him. "You sir, are an incorrigible flirt."

"So, they tell me."

"Who's they?" Alice was pretty sure her heart had stopped. Who gave him the right to such long eyelashes?

"The guys who are jealous that you let me flirt with you. They don't use five-dollars words like'incorrigible' though."

Alice grinned back at him. "You make me regret not packing my thesaurus," she joked. "I could lend it to them. See if we can make our way up to ten-dollar words."

"Even with a book, I don't think most of them meatheads could pull off being arrogant. I'm pretty sure the majority of them can't read. If you want to have a decent conversation, you should stick with me. "

"I think you might be selling them short."

Bucky leaned closer across the gap between the tables. "I may be biased."

"Sergeant Barnes!" One of the officers barked. "No fraternizing."

Alice sighed. Of course, today would be the day they were paying attention.

"To be continued." Bucky winked and straightened back up.

Alice sat on her footlocker, notebook resting in her lap. She turned the flower Bucky had given her between her fingers.

It was a silly thing to keep. She wasn't a child anymore, clinging to every trinket a suitor gave her. She wanted to keep it though. The bright purple colour made her happy.

"What's with the flower?" Gracie asked, securing her cap. She was on her way to work the night shift. Every day, there were just a few moments when all of the girls were in the tent at the same time.

Alice blushed and smoothed the stem into place against a page. "Bucky gave it to me."

"Alice's got a boyfriend!" Polly sing-songed, dancing around the narrow aisle running down the center of the tent.

Gwen sighed and sat down heavily on her own cot. "I don't know if this is going to encourage you, but your mother would approve."

"She really would." Sure, he was handsome, but to Alice he was more than his looks. He was intelligent, brave and compassionate and shows unwavering loyalty to his comrades.

Her mother would be over the moon. If Alice asked Bucky to stay for dinner, her mother would ask him to stay forever, and Alice's mother would be fitting her for a wedding gown the next day. The flower was trapped between the pages of the journal as Alice closed the book.

"He is no such thing. Besides, I can't even afford to think about that right now. We're in the middle of a war. We live in this crazy whirlpool of uncertainty and - who knows what might happen tomorrow. "

Gwen reached across the space between their cots to squeeze Alice's knee. "Oh sugar. I know I'm a little biased, but not knowing what will happen tomorrow is sometimes exactly why you should do the extraordinary thing."

"And what about after the war?" Alice asked, voicing the fear that had been rattling around inside of her for the last several weeks. "When everything calms down and everyone goes back to their lives. I'll be going back to England , and he'll return to Brooklyn. Just because he's having fun flirting with me now doesn't mean he's looking for forever. Forever means a different thing when there's the actual potential to have it."

"I don't remember ever saying 'marry him'."

"Gwen!" Alice let out a startled laugh. Was her friend actually implying what she thought she was implying? "What? You're both adults. You are free to make your own choices. In the worst-case situation, you' ll have to move in with me. I'm going to require the services of a receptionist. After that, no one will think twice about a wartime widow. Especially one with well-respected clientele such as my family."

Alice shook her head. "I can not believe you are even suggesting this."

Gwen looked at her seriously. "Well I guess we know what you have to do then."

"Oh? And what's that exactly?"

"Stop flirting with trouble," Gwen answered emphatically.

Alice blinked, stared. "Oh my god, did you just reverse psychology me?"

Gwen smiled enigmatically. "Would I do that?"

"Yes. Absolutely you would, yes." Alice sighed, shaking her head. "It's just some innocent flirting. It's not going to go anywhere. I'm not going to get myself in any trouble."

With a slight grimace, she realised she was far too intelligent for that. Alice was slow, reasonable, and totally restrained, having never kissed a boy until she was nineteen. Her biggest risk was a decision she made as a result of someone else's filing mistake. But she could dream for a moment, couldn't she? Of what life could be once the war was over. She'd go back home to England with Gwen and Lawrence. And there would be an address written in the back of her notebook.

They'd write to each other. Make promises. And he would come to see her. Meet her family. Or she could go to him. Meet his mama and sister. She'd always wanted to see New York. Walk through Central Park , see the Empire State Building, the Statue of Liberty. See all the wonderful museums.

She might be able to get work as a secretary there. He could work in the factory where he'd been employed before the war. He'd also surprise her with flowers every now and again. While she prepared dinner, they would flirt and dance in the kitchen. And he'd glance at her with that charming smile that warmed her all the way down to her toes, like he always did. They could be happy.

Alice shook her head, dispelling the fantasy. She was being ridiculous . It was just a little innocent flirtation, and here she was, building castles in the clouds again.

She wasn't going to fall in love with Bucky Barnes. It was a crush, that was all. Something soft and light between two people in the middle of a war zone. The front line was no place for fairy tales.

June 28th, 1943

Alice couldn't find Lawrence, which was a problem. Gwen had been in surgery for thirteen hours and had passed out in one of the ward beds. Not for the first time.

She usually found Lawrence and he took her back to their tent when this happened. But he was nowhere to be seen. He should be at camp right now. But it was a crowded camp, and he wasn't seen.

She spotted the back of a familiar head. "Bucky!"

"Hey, doll," He turned, warm smile collapsing when he saw her face. "What's the matter?"

She dashed over to him, shoes skidding briefly on the hard-packed ground. "I'm not strong enough to carry Gwen. Last time I tried, I dropped her in a puddle."

He blinked, confused. "Carry Gwen? Why would you have to carry Gwen?"

Alice bounced anxiously. Fingers plucking at his sleeve. "She passed out and...Can you please just come with me?"

Bucky let her grab his hand tightly in hers and tow him along easily. He never liked to see anyone frantic the way Alice was. He would follow his 'favourite nurse' to the ends of the earth since he had formed a soft spot for her . Even if he wasn't sure exactly what she wanted him to accomplish.

"This sort of thing happen a lot?" He asked, looking both bemused and concerned as she led him to the tent. He noticed that none of the nurses he saw appeared to be well-rested. Martha's blonde curls were unkempt and dangling from the white shawl that covered her head. Gracie, the mousey one, had splashed water down her front and hadn't yet changed.

"I wouldn't say a lot..." She hedged, not meeting his gaze. To Gwen more than the rest of them. Gwen tended to mother hen them all and chase them out of the hospital tent before they got this bad. It was difficult to get any of them out of surgery.

Bucky shook his head. "You girls work too hard."

Alice bristled. They worked exactly as hard as they needed to. "Send your complaints to the Nazis. The sooner they pack up and stop harassing their neighbours and killing people for no reason, the sooner we can all get some sleep."

"Next time I see one I will give him a very stern talking to." Bucky soothed. He hadn't meant anything by it. He didn't like to see the women exhausted was all.

Alice led him to the Minor Injury Ward, striding purposefully through the tent flaps to lead him to her friend. Gwen had taken up residence in a cot at the back of the tent, near one of the nurse's stations. She looked pale, dark circles like bruises under her eyes. She didn't even stir as they approached.

"If I thought it would help, I'd seal her in the nurses' barracks myself," Alice told him quietly. "But she wouldn't listen. They need her, I know they do. And she's even worse when Lawrence is away. She tries so hard to keep her mind off of it but... "

Bucky nodded, indicating that he understood. It's difficult to be the one who has been left behind, waiting for news. It would be both a blessing and a curse to be stationed so near together. You'd be able to visit your sweetheart more frequently, but what if something unexpected happened...

Bucky lifted Gwen and shifted her for a little moment so she sat more comfortably in his arms. He motioned Alice to take the lead.

They made their way through the hospital camp as discreetly as possible to the nurses' quarters. Because men were not permitted inside, Alice took a brief glance inside the tent to ensure they were not being watched. For the time being, it was vacant, so Alice gave Bucky a short signal to follow her. He accomplished it by ducking through the tent's front flaps.

Alice led him silently through the barracks and directed him to lay Gwen on her bed.

Alice bent to remove her friend's shoes and cover her with her blanket as he did so gently. Then Alice went to her own bed, pulling out her own coverlet to drape over her friend. Alice caressed her hair one final time with tenderness. She was out like a light.

Bucky and Alice beat a fast retreat outside before anyone could catch them.

Bucky tweaked a curl that had slipped free of Alice's wimple. "This is probably the wrong time to ask, but were those your stockings hanging on the line?"

Alice coughed and sputtered. "I don't know what you're talking about. I have to get back to work."

Grinning wickedly, Bucky leaned down until his lips almost brushed her ear. "I like your stockings."

CHAPTER FOUR

SHAKE, RATTLE AND ROLL

February 16th, 1943

"HE'S SWEET." Alice protested. She didn't think she was winning this argument.

Gwen had been bracing herself for conflict since she received the note inquiring if she was going to the dance tonight. Alice hadn't even responded. Although the note expressly stated that she was not required to, perhaps that wasn't wholly comforting.

Alice,

You don't have to write back. I'm not looking for any promises. Seeing you tonight, even from afar, will make me feel like there is good in the world.

Alice had tucked the note into her journal. Men didn't write her love notes. Certainly not ones that made her stomach flutter.

"He's trouble." Gwen reminded her as she pulled off her wimple.

"Not all of us can be happily and adorably married." It was lovely to see, even though it was painful at times. As glad as she was to see her friend happy, the recent letter from her mother urging her to find a suitable partner weighed heavily on her mind.

"Shush!" Gwen hissed. "You want to get me packed off to some boring hospital somewhere?"

"Obviously not. If you left, who would I talk to? Gracie? She's such a bore. And if I had to spend any more time with Polly, I'd bury her under the floorboards."

If Alice lost her best friend, she would be crushed. Married women were not supposed to serve in the front lines. Gwen wouldn't be permitted to stay if anyone found out about her elopement.

"And you can't talk to Martha." Gwen teased, nudging her friend's side. She wasn't one for holding grudges.

Alice decided it was much better for her dignity if she ignored that statement entirely. "... are you going to help me with my hair or not?"

Her friend sighed, a fond, exasperated sound. "Pass me the pins."

Moments later Gwen stepped back, "Right. That's as good as you get without an actual hairdresser." She gave the soft french twist a last once-over.

Alice checked her reflection in her hand mirror. "Gwen, you're a miracle worker. A goddess among women."

Gwen leaned over her shoulder, primping her own hair in the small mirror. "It's pretty darn good, hun. Your coffee ration says he's speechless."

Alice laughed. "Consider it yours." It would be worth it.

She rose from her stool and brushed her fingertips over the blue button-down dress's skirt. It was the only nice outfit she'd brought with her, and she'd tried her hardest to maintain it in good shape. It had been in her cubby for so long that getting the wrinkles out was the most difficult task.

The white ankle-strap heels had seen her through many a dance and family wedding, but they were well-worn and in good shape. Putting them on was reassuring, a reminder of home on the other side of the world.

Alice had fond memories of her time spent in these shoes. She planned on making a few more tonight.

The church hall had a bustling vibe, with lights flashing from the entryway as partygoers poured in and out.

Strains of " Shake, Rattle and Roll" were just audible as they approached, Alice in her blue dress with the lace accents at the sleeves, and Gwen in her pink with the sweetly pleated neckline.

The place was hopping when they got inside. Couples crowded the dance floor or sat at the low tables strewn about the venue. A long line had formed at the bar that had been set up. This was a dry event, as were most of them , but that didn't matter. The small moments of reprieve were frequently enough to entice.

Already they had recognized a few people they knew; some other nurses from the field hospital, as well as some of the soldiers they had treated.

Alice could see her friend's eyes sifting across the crowd, looking for something. Alice knew precisely what she was searching for and drew her deeper into the corridor to conduct a more thorough search.

They'd managed one circuit of the hall and were contemplating grabbing some drinks when a pair of arms wrapped around Gwen's shoulders and a soft voice asked in her ear, "Hey sugar, you rationed?"

The smile of pure ecstasy on Gwen's face as she fell back into the sturdy frame of her husband's chest could not have been hidden by a blackout. "Hmm. What he doesn't know won't hurt him."

When Alice watched her friends cuddling up to one other, she grinned. They were just too darn happy together. Just watching them was a joy.

And they were so caught up with each other that for a moment they seemed to forget Alice was even there.

Not that she minded.

But Gwen turned back to her, hand clasped with Lawrence's. "You don't have to hang around with us boring people. Go find your Romeo."

Lawrence's eyes lit with interest as he glanced between them. "Romeo? Who is Alice's Romeo?"

"Sergeant Barnes."

"With the 107?"

Gwen nodded in confirmation. "And the dreamy eyes apparently."

"Oh yeah. He's a Romeo. A Yankee Romeo to boot." Lawrence agreed. He'd met the man several times before. Nice fella. Easy to talk to. He's the type of man you'd like to have a drink with . But he'd also noticed that Barnes had the ability to attract female attention as easily as wildflowers do honeybees.

"Would you stop calling him that?" Alice protested with a laugh. "He's sweet."

"So was Romeo," Gwen reminded her. "And we all know how that story ended."

"Romeo was a self absorbed, teenage boy with a crush. Pretty sure the same cannot be said of Sergeant Barnes. But if you're telling me that he's on active duty, I'll remember that the next time I see those baby blues ." She'd maintain it at a friendly level of flirtation, and that'd be the end of it.

Of course it would be just her luck for a familiar voice to cut in. "Whose baby blues are we talking about?"

When they turned around, they saw James Barnes approaching from behind. When he wasn't covered in war grime, he looked even better. His hair was brushed precisely, his suit pressed, and his face was shaved.

Alice, who'd thought he was handsome even with the rough edge of stubble, tried very hard not to stare. Now that's just unfair.

"Can someone tell me why lieutenant Keller hogging all the pretty girls? You can only dance with one of them at a time, you know."

"Too bad you're late, Barnes. Missed your chance." Lawrence joked back easily, slinging one arm casually around his wife's shoulders.

He snapped his fingers in mock-disappointment. "Well dang. And here I spent all that time making myself presentable. If a guy begs for a dance, do you think Sister Alice will feel sorry for him? Or do you also have her as a hostage?"

Gwen encouraged Alice forward with a giggle, pushing her ahead before she could respond. "But we are leaving in three hours and I am walking you back to our barracks myself."

Alice made a face at her friend. "You know, one of the few advantages of being stationed out here is that I don't have to deal with my mother."

"Amen to that," Lawrence nodded emphatically.

He and Alice exchanged a look of sympathy as Gwen giggled, tugging her husband towards the dance floor. "Come on, sugar. Let's dance."

Bucky let out a long whistle as he watched the two of them walk away. "Anyone taking bets on how long it will be before those two get married?"

Alice laughed. "That was about a year ago so you'd lose your money."

"What?"

Oops, she wasn't supposed to say that. Open secrets were the worst. "What?"

Bucky chuckled, shaking his head. "You're an odd duck. Let's dance."

"Oh, I don't know, Sergeant Barnes. You think you can keep up?"

Bucky smoothly extended his hand towards her, and with a grin that she thought disguised her nerves, she accepted his hand. Normally, her dancing partners weren't so brave.

Bucky twirled her on the spot. "Oh, I think I'm up to the challenge."

"As long as you take care with your stitches," she relented, allowing him to lead her towards the crowd of dancers.

"Yes ma'am." he promised.

James Barnes, it turned out, really knew how to dance.

He led like a pro, and not once did he step on her toes or fling her into another dancer. To top it off, if the song was slow enough, he could even carry a conversation on the dance floor.

He was pleasant, but he was also disarmingly humorous, as Alice had suspected. He told her about growing up in Brooklyn and running tame through the streets with his best friend, and he didn't mind telling her memories that made him laugh. In exchange, she informed him about her family, including her parents and sister, as well as how she met Gwen and Lawrence.

Far too soon Alice felt a tap on her shoulder. There was Gwen, face as flushed with exertion as hers was. "Come on, Cinderella. Time to get you into your bed before you turn into a pumpkin."

Already the words of protest were forming on her lips. "Gwen-"

Before she could finish her complaint, her friend cut her off with an airy wave of a hand. "Be my guest if you want to explain to Matron why you're yawning during morning rounds."

Alice sighed, turning back to Bucky reluctantly. "She has a point. I should go."

He nodded, understanding. "Let me walk you back."

"You don't have to." Alice protested. Barnes was being observed by a group of other women. Almost all of the single girls, as well as a significant number of those with sweethearts. After she left, he'd have a new dance partner in the blink of an eye. Considering the women were outnumbered three to one, this was no small effort. "Gwen and I can get home fine."

But Bucky shook his head, smiling crookedly down at her. "Ma would box my ears if I didn't. She raised a gentleman."

Alice relented with a laugh. She liked the notion of him walking her home. "We don't want your Ma to be disappointed in you."

He kept them laughing all the way back to the nurses' quarters, exchanging quips with Lawrence and flirting with Alice in passing.

When they arrived at the barracks, they took a step back, giving Gwen and Lawrence a brief moment of privacy to kiss in the dorm's shadows before Gwen went inside.

Bucky ran his knuckles down her arm. "Can I kiss you goodnight, Sister Alice?"

At that moment Gwen stuck her head out from the door to the tent. "No."

"Gwen!" Alice laughed. "Get back inside! I can answer for myself."

She returned her gaze to her dance partner, a regretful shake of her head. She wasn't the type of girl that kissed a guy on their first date, if that's what you could call it. "It's time for me to retire to my bed, Sergeant. Hopefully, I see you again."

"Hopefully you will," He replied. "Just not because I got myself shot again."

"Just a little shot." She smiled back, echoing his own words from that afternoon.

He laughed. "Good night, Alice," He took her hand in his and carefully brought it to his mouth, brushing soft lips over her knuckles. "Sweet dreams."

"Sweet dreams, Sergeant Barnes." Alice retreated into the barracks, her face burning and trying to hide her grin. She turned to lean against the frame, a dreamy look in her eyes, absently grasping the hand he had kissed as she closed the tent flap behind her.

A wet cloth caught her square in the face.

"Wipe that grin off your face and get to bed. That boy is trouble."

Alice made face at her friend, swiping her makeup off with a moist cloth to avoid the inevitable dark circles in the morning. "Oh, how would you know what trouble looks like?"

"Lawrence's not the first man in my life," Gwen said with a shrug as she made her way to her bed. "I've seen trouble before. And Barnes is trouble."

"Not the first man?" Alice stepped back with an exaggerated gasp, pressing one hand to her chest in feigned shock. "Why, Gwendoline Keller. Do you have a dark and wicked past you haven't told me about? And if so , tell me all about it."

"Bed," Her friend laughed, plucking the pins from her curls. "Before you get us both into trouble, you hopeless romantic."

"I'm not about to forget about this conversation," Alice warned her. "You are going to tell me eventually."

"Eventually, probably. Tonight, I'm going to sleep."

Alice sat down on her bed to unbuckle her shoes, sighing with relief as her feet were finally free. She'd have to pay for her sins in the morning, but tonight was well worth the price. Still smiling, she unbuttoned her dress, trading it for her pajamas, and returning the dress neatly folded to her locker.

"Thanks for coming with me tonight, Gwen."

CHAPTER THREE

BETTY'S BABY BLUES

February 13th, 1943

RETURNING TO CAMP was always its own controlled kind of chaos, one that Bucky was surprised to find himself becoming accustomed to.

It wasn't something he expected to happen when he left New York, but it appeared to be occurring nonetheless. He wasn't sure how he felt about that as he walked through the trampled grass towards the field hospital.

This was a more sophisticated setup than he expected them to create in the middle of nowhere, Italy, but he figured they'd learned a thing or two since the war twenty-five years ago.

Unfortunately, it was not enough to prevent history repeating itself.

The Great War. The War to End All Wars.

If only.

Perhaps it was mainly because the British with whom they shared the camp had been here for years before his country decided they couldn't bear it any longer. They'd left an indelible mark on the design.

They'd taken over most of the best flat terrain for their barracks, and the British Nursing Sisters dominated the infirmary with an iron fist, and he thought their baby blue dresses and wimples were quite lovely. The American nurses, with their small caps and plain white uniforms, lacked the same allure.

Bucky fully credited the charm of the British nurses for the affection his company had for 'Betty's Baby Blues', as the soldiers had nicknamed it.

He strolled by the pharmacy tent and the operating theatre, pausing briefly to take in the aromas drifting from the kitchen tent (he'd be stopping there later), and then continuing on to the receiving tent. He wasn't seriously hurt — at least not in his opinion — but they needed a record of his location in case someone came seeking for him.

Nothing was broken, and he wasn't missing any body parts, so he was taken to the Minor Injuries ward, as he had expected.

And walked into the tent just in time to see one of the nurses nearly walk into one of the tent poles.

Bucky bit his lip, fighting back a laugh. And lost the battle entirely as another of the ward nurses made their way towards him, shaking her head.

"This kind of thing happen a lot?" He asked, nodding towards the young woman who'd almost clocked herself on the post.

She was short, certainly smaller than the lean ward nurse in front of him, and decked out in one of the blue uniforms of the English nursing sisters. Her hair was brown from what he could see, tucked up under a crisp white wimple.

The ward matron glanced back, then shook her head again with a small smile. "Alice is a sweet one. Eager beaver, good with patients, but well... bit of a clodhopper at times." She turned back to him. "You been seen to, shug?"

"No, ma'am."

"Then why don't you head on over, take bed twelve." The matron pointed to the little numbers on the foot of each cot. "We'll get you seen to in a jiff."

Bucky smiled to himself and followed the instructions. As it turned out, bed twelve was exactly behind where Alice was working. She must have been preoccupied because she didn't appear to notice him approaching.

He took a step behind her, fighting a faint chuckle as he followed her gaze. It was aimed at a lovely blonde nurse he remembered from a prior visit to the unit. "Was it Martha bending over?"

The young woman jumped, nearly stumbling over her armload of sheets. "What?" As she whirled on him, holding the covers to her chest, her voice came out in a terrified squeal. "What? No. No, why would I be staring at Martha?"

Cute, blonde, looked great in her uniform. Who wouldn't want to look at Martha? Although Miss Looky-loo wasn't too bad herself. Plus, she obviously had excellent taste. "I like you," Bucky decided. "You're my favourite nurse now."

If possible, her already flaming face burned even darker. "Um... thank you?" She cleared her throat, brushed an errant lock of light brown hair behind one ear. "So, um... do you need something or were you just here to see if you could make a poor innocent girl -- who was totally not watching any pretty blonde nurses bend over, by the way -- drop things?"

He smiled at her, looking a little sheepish himself.

As he spoke, he tugged his shirt from his trousers' belt, exposing flawless abs and blood-smeared skin. "More like grazed? I'll be fine if you could just lend me some gauze or something."

"What -- oh my god!" The colour that had risen in her face drained immediately. "Oh my god."

When he noticed her swaying on her feet, his amusement quickly turned to concern. "Woah, easy there, doll. Let's sit you down for a second."

Alice took a step back and shook her head to clear her thoughts. You'd think that after two years on the front lines, she'd be used to seeing these kinds of injuries. Her terrible luck was that she had never grown accustomed to seeing blood and pain.

"You've been shot. Sit here, I'm going to clean you up. I can have a seat when I'm finished." She set him on the cot before stepping briskly away from the sheets she was carrying and gathering the materials she required.

She reappeared a few moments later, carrying a tray full of gauze, a bottle of hydrogen peroxide, and other essentials. She placed the tray on the small bedside table before moving her gaze to him. "Okay, soldier. Off with the shirt. Let's get you patched up."

He complied, not exactly opposed to the way her beautifully unique eyes flicked over his chest with each undone button. He seemed almost captivated by the unusual hue of the outer blue rim bending into the hazel centre.

Alice told him to sit back so she could have a closer look at the wound, forcing her thoughts back to work. His original judgment seems to be basically accurate. It had been a graze. It was, however, a bad one.

"Looks like you got lucky," she commented. "Few more millimetres and you'd be needing more than just a couple stitches."

"James."

"Pardon?"

"My name. It's James. Friends call me Bucky."

She gave him a quick glance as she gathered a cloth to wipe his wound. "You move fast. We've only known each other about five minutes."

"And in that time, you've managed to get me out of my shirt. I think that makes us friends."

Alice chuckled. "Charmer. See if you're feeling so friendly after I clean this out." She passed him a worn strap of leather. "Just in case. This is going to hurt."

"Not my first time, doll," he assured her. "I can take it."

"If you say so, hun." She was not surprised at the curse he bit out as she laid the peroxide-soaked cloth over the bullet graze. "Deep breaths."

"You know -- I think the cleaning hurts worse than actually being shot," he commented through gritted teeth.

"I'll take your word for it. But better than losing a nice boy like you to a nasty infection." Alice set down the cloth and picked up the needle and thread, satisfied that the wound was as clean as she could make it. "This part's not going to be any more fun."

"Wouldn't mind a distraction, if you're offering."

"Now that depends on what kind of distraction you're looking for," she replied. "You mentioned Martha earlier. If you're here fishing, you're not the first to try for her."

"Martha's sweet," Bucky agreed. "We've shared a drink a time or two. But if I was fishing, I don't think I'm using the right bait."

Unsure of how to respond to that, Alice elected to stay silent as she prepared the needle. "Ready?"

He nodded. "About that distraction -- how'd someone like you end up in a place like this?"

"Well, you see, these terrible group of people known as Nazis seized power in Germany and began murdering civilians and invading other nations —"

"No shit, doll. I hadn't noticed."

"Need I remind you that there are ladies present, Sergeant? You might scare them away if you don't mind your language."

He burst out laughing at that. "I'm guessing you're a newbie. The girls here have taught me more about cussing than the boys back in camp."

That didn't come as a surprise to her. She'd had a thorough education in the various inventive ways in which curse words could be put together during her time in Italy.

"And I think my language is perfectly acceptable for when someone is stabbing me repeatedly." Bucky said, glaring at the waiting needle.

Alice scoffed and smiled, and relaxed a little more."I haven't even started the stabbing yet. And I brought the strap if you needed something to bite down on."

"For a little scratch like this?" Bucky flexed, immediately regretting the decision, as it sent a shooting pain up his side.

Alice rolled her eyes. Fragile masculine pride would be the death of one of them. "Open your mouth, Sergeant."

Bucky plucked the strap from her fingers and waved it at her, amusingly. He wasn't about to squander a good flirting session for a minor annoyance like crippling pain. "At least buy me dinner first, doll."

Her cheeks heated again, but she met his gaze evenly this time. "I'm sure we can get some good recommendations for Italian somewhere near here."

He laughed again. "That was terrible. I love it. Maybe afterwards we'll go out dancing."

"If you can keep up," She teased. There wouldn't be dancing. There was never actually dancing.

"And you said I move fast. I like a woman who knows what she wants." He winked. Girls always liked it when he winked.

"And I like a man who knows how to follow orders. Now stay still." She said firmly, hand steady as she set to work stitching the wound.

"Shit," Bucky snarled, clenching his teeth and aiming his attention to the tent's peak. After all, he could have used the strap. "A girl after my own heart,"

As long as he didn't find out she was all talk. He wasn't the first GI to respond to pain with flirtation. It never meant anything, and she didn't mind playing the game if it distracted them from their wounds. However, she would have loved it more if she had been in a different situation.

"Really, though." Bucky was talking to keep himself distracted now, it was only kind of working. "You're more...sensitive, than most of the other girls here."

"Sensitive," she chuckled. "Yeah, you could say that. I'll tell you, being on the front was not my first choice. War broke out. Dad enlisted." He would have been forced to, she thought, if he hadn't chosen himself. And, for the millionth time, she wondered how much of his choice to leave had been influenced by his wife's urging.

"Mama and Susan, my sister, stayed back home, teaching. I applied to work in one of France's rehab centers. The next thing I know, I'm on a plane to Italy, and all the French I'd been learning isn't proving to be as useful as I had hoped."

At the very least, he knew what to say, and eliciting the appropriate sentence from his thoughts took enough focus to get him through another two stitches.

"L'italiano non è poi così diverso." (Italian is not all that different)

Alice looked up at him in surprise. "You speak Italian?"

He shrugged, another bad idea according to his side. "Enough to order dinner and talk my way out of a fight. Brooklyn's like that."

She returned her focus to her task, steadfastly avoiding those glittering eyes. "Then I'll let you order dinner, since the amount of Italian I've picked up here could get us kicked out of every nice restaurant in the country."

"I don't know if that's a comment on your accent or the quality of your teachers."

"I'll let you draw your own conclusions given that most of the Italian I learnt here was while folks were getting stitches or having bullets taken out of them."

"And how many of them have talked you into dinner?" Bucky wasn't opposed to a little friendly rivalry, but he wanted to know who he was up against. For a woman like her, there was bound to be a long line of suitors.

"That have actually followed through? Well there's one that's making some decent progress. Long as he's not a dead hooper, he may be a keeper."

So, she liked to dance. He could work with that.

"Pretty blonde? You feel like the type that would go for pretty blondes. If it's Hodge, you should drop him. Guys a tool. You can do better."

Alice's brow furrowed in distaste. "Ugh. That pig. Certainly not. I'd rather have a partner with more than two brain cells to rub together, who doesn't make me want to deck him at every turn. No. I do like pretty blondes, but right now I'm drawn to handsome brunettes with eyes as blue as the summer sky."

She finished stitching and tied and clipped the thread before returning the needle and scissors to their tray.

"Damn, she's a poet too. Someone get me out of here before I embarrass myself even more." Bucky smiled and leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. Just for this chat, the agony in his side was worth it.

Alice burst out laughing. "You haven't walked into a tent pole yet, so I'd say you're safe for the time being." She wiped the wound down again before reaching for the roll of new bandages to cover it.

As she applied the dressing, Bucky was quite sure she spent more time staring at his muscles than she needed to. He didn't mind at all. Especially since she reddened so attractively when he caught her.

Finally, she slipped the bandage's end under her arm and took a step back to assess her job. And perhaps a better view of the rest of him. She was only human after all.

Bucky smirked. She was definitely getting an eyeful. "Can I put my shirt back on now?"

Alice cleared her throat. He'd caught her. "For purely professional reasons, I'm going to say 'no'."

"Purely professional, huh?" Bucky cocked his brow.

"Go grab a clean shirt so your bandages don't get contaminated."

Damn. Bucky thought. That smile is more lethal than any weapon on the battlefield.

Alice wasn't the kind to seek out trouble, but Bucky was the kind of trouble she wouldn't mind getting herself into.

CHAPTER TWO

1942

February 8th, 1942

AS THE ENTIRE battalion crammed into the mess tent, the crimson ensign and regimental flag broke in the breeze.

Alice felt the late-winter chill even in her uniform greatcoat. As they wove their way to where the rest of the nursing team was gathered around a table, Alice held Gwen's hand to save her shorter friend from getting lost.

When Alice noticed that it wasn't only the Colonel who was waiting to address them all, she was taken aback. In months, she hadn't seen a General in person. This meeting, whatever it was about, was crucial. She wasn't sure if the news was good or bad. Perhaps they were on their way out of England. Perhaps the war was on its way to them.

A hush fell over the tent as a Staff Sergeant called for silence.

The General stood, raising a hand in greeting before he started speaking. "The 206th is being remanded to the Americans for the foreseeable future. Medical core and all. You'll be working with the 107th Infantry Regiment and the National Guard."

There was an outcry from the crowd.

They were all patriotic Britons. For their nation and this war, they had fought, bled, and lost comrades. They would now be leased to the American Army to serve as lackeys. No one expected the Americans to regard them as equals or even to value their sacrifices thus far.

The rest of the general's speech was mostly lost on Alice.

As Gwen and Martha's faces darkened, she became more interested in observing them. Gwen tapped her toe on the floor. Martha's arms were folded over her chest. Alice wondered if Martha was aware of how green her eyes turned when she became irritated.

The general held up a hand to signal for the racket to quiet down. "I understand that our American friends are late to the party, but they did turn up, and they brought the big guns, so I expect everyone to play nicely. Your direct command will provide you with exact instructions."

The troops were dismissed, and they flooded out into the larger camp, the nurses huddling together in a whispering flock on their way back to the hospital tent.

"Ladies! You are nurses not sailors. I expect you to act like it."

Over the din of female voices, the matron spoke up. The news hit the nurses like a ton of bricks. Their charges were about to quadruple, and the command wasn't going to be their command.

"Why aren't they sending their own medical staff?" Someone called from the back of the room.

"They are, but they are short on fully trained personnel that are ready for the front. We will be assisting while they set up and get their feet under them." The matron said soothingly.

"The Americans will be bringing resources and personal. Exactly the things we are always asking for."

Gwen folded her arms across her chest. Her jaw set and eyes cold. "They'd better not come in here acting like they know better. We've been over here for two years."

"We're not going to hold their hands either. They'd better be able to pull their own weight." Martha sounded determined too.

Alice agreed with the other women and nodded. She couldn't disagree that the assistance was desperately needed, yet here was their camp after two years. They were familiar with its routines and personnel, and had developed their own set of patterns and protocols in response.

They didn't need a bunch of obnoxious Americans taking over because they thought they knew best.

"We should set up a kind of orientation." She suggested. "Maybe pair off with them, introduce them to how we do things here so there isn't any confusion."

Gwen bumped her shoulder against Alice's. "You really are the nicest of us."

She laughed, shaking her head bashfully. "I figured it would save us the trouble of having to bury them under the floorboards later."

When she started her first work, her manager had put up a similar form of orientation. It had been quite useful in assisting her in comprehending the processes and the unique office culture. Hopefully, a similar idea can be applied here as well.

April 19, 1942

The nurses' tent was dark and quiet.

All of the girls who weren't working the night shift were snuggled up in their mattresses. Alice's blankets were pushed up to her ears. It had been a pleasant day, and she was looking forward to a restful night's sleep.

A hand covered Alice's mouth. She froze in panic, eyes snapping open. Gwen was standing over her, wearing a blue dress and pearls instead of her nightgown.

"What the hell?" Alice hissed not wanting to wake the others.

"I'm about to do something crazy and I need your help." Gwen whispered back.

Twenty minutes later Alice found herself dressed in her best dress and sneaking over the fence that formed the perimeter of the camp.

Gwen led the way surreptitiously through the still sleepy hamlet towards the spire of the old gothic church.

Lawrence, Gwen's boyfriend of three years, stood on the church steps, a bouquet of wildflowers gripped in his palm, beaming. Doctor Wright took up a position next to him.

Alice grabbed her friend's arm and dragged them to a stop. "Gwen! Are you eloping?"

"Does it count as eloping if my parents know?" Gwen asked seriously.

"Does Matron know?" If they were caught, Alice was already planning a cover story, pretending to be ignorant in some way.

"You know, I'm sure I mentioned it," Gwen answered with a small, mischievous smile. "Almost positive. It's been so busy the last few weeks."

Alice took her friend's hand, concern written clearly on her face. This was crazy. "They're going to reassign you."

"Only if they find out," Gwen shrugged. "Wright knows. He doesn't think it's going to affect my work. Montgomery knows too. He's covering for the boys."

Alice cocked her head. Gwen had given it a lot of thought. If this didn't work, telling both doctors was a major risk. Gwen didn't seem the least bit worried. "Your bohemian upbringing has given you a warped perspective on life."

Gwen set a hand on her hip and raised one eyebrow. "Are you going to stand up for me, or do I need to go wake Gracie up?"

"I can't believe you would even joke about that." Alice straightened purposefully, fighting down her worry and letting her joy for her friends swell up in its place.

"Well then. I believe we have a wedding to get to.." Gwen lit up at the thought.

Lawrence picked Gwen up and spun her around as soon as she was within arm's reach. "I love you."

"I love you." Gwen curled her hands around his biceps, melting into his hold. "Mrs. Gwendoline Keller. It sounds right."

Lawrence rested his forehead against hers. Love showing in every inch of his body. "Not as good as Doctor Gwendoline Keller will."

"Priest is waiting on us." Doctor Wright said nodding towards the doors.

Alice was too much of a lady to swear as they hurried into the hospital twenty minutes late for their shift. It was tempting though. Her stocking was twisted and her wimple was going to fall off.

The matron regarded them sternly over her clipboard. "You're late for morning rounds, ladies."

"Sorry matron." Gwen bobbed a curtsy. "I had a sudden urge to visit church. Pastoral care is so important in these trying times. Forgive Sister Alice, I dragged her with me."

"Of course, dear." Matron patted Gwen's cheek affectionately. "At the present, we just have Lowe and Brenner, who are both doing well. For your tardiness, I'll ask that you change Brenner's dressing today."

"Yes, ma'am." Gwen bobbed another neat curtsey. The matron straightened Alice's wimple before she left the girls to their work.

Alice gaped at Gwen as the matron walked away. "Are you kidding me? It was your turn to do dressings anyway."

Gwen grinned evilly. "The world will only dance to your song if you play it, as my grandma often says. Confidence is all it takes nine times out of ten."

"Some days I hate you and your suffragette forebears." Alice sighed and resigned herself to another day of charting.

Gwen laughed and grabbed a tray full of supplies. "I'll try to remember that the next time mama sends me jam."

July 20th, 1942

"The Americans have quite the circus going on. Who's the big cheese?" Polly let the tent door flap as she breezed into the room, damp hair wrapped up in a paisley scarf.

Martha flipped the page in her magazine. "Some colonel with a special mandate."

"What colonel gets this kind of treatment? We didn't roll out this kind of red carpet for our own general." Polly sneered and reached into her footlocker for a half-full bottle of nail polish. To free up the good chair, she tossed Gwen's knitting on the floor and began painting her toes.

From behind her magazine, Martha grinned. She was friends with a few of the secretarial pool ladies. Her camp gossip was usually the most accurate and reliable. "Apparently it is a very special mandate."

"The line in the mess is going to be a nightmare." Gracie groaned.

A voice sounded from the door of the tent. "Well I do hope we're not too much of an imposition."

"Peggy!" When they saw her, the small group of nurses present cheered. Peggy had quickly become one of their favourites the previous time she was with them. It was great to see her again in a more favourable light.

Peggy smiled and raised the duffle bag she was carrying. "Do you ladies happen to have a spare cot I could commandeer again?"

"The one next to me is free." Martha happily volunteered. Lillian had gone months before, leaving the home office for a comfortable position at a London hospital and a handsome new English husband.

Peggy sat down on the supplied cot and slid her duffel next to her. It was great to be back in the company of women.

July 26th, 1942

It didn't take long for Peggy to become a staple around the nurses' quarters.

Her working hours were almost as irregular as the nurses'. At all hours of the day and night, in and out. She was always up for a cup of tea, a short game of chess, or just being a shoulder to cry on when she was around.

Peggy's decision to bunk with them, Alice believed, was partially due to their tea supply. Every care box included jars of herbal teas from Gwen's mother's victory garden. The nurses had plenty of chamomile, mint, and blackberry leaf tea, even if they didn't have Red Rose or Imperial. Mother Richardson's medical blends were far superior to the gunpowder in their rations. It was also better than the 'coffee,' which consisted basically wheat bran.

She was lucky. Sometimes Alice's mother sent her useful things -- a notebook and pens, occasionally some chocolate or cookies. Her care packages, on the other hand, were frequently filled with cosmetics. Because, evidently, a woman should not be seen without her lipstick even in a warzone. Well, at least Alice could trade them for other things when she needed them.

Peggy perched herself on the edge of her cot, taking off her shoes with tired movements.

"Any chance you can keep this bed open for me? It looks like we are going to be in and out from the front a lot in the next little while."

Alice thought getting another nurse to fill out their numbers was a long shot. "Consider it yours."

"You really are angels." Peggy smiled and laid back.

She often appeared fatigued after a long day at work. Alice understood that. It was exhausting to be a woman in a man's world. The nurses saw that, and they were more sheltered than Peggy.

If Alice had a dollar for every time a soldier she was treating insisted on speaking with a "real medic," she'd be a millionaire. She couldn't image how much more difficult it was for Peggy to work with the males.

"We've got the kettle on. Do you want a cup of tea?" Martha asked, taking a jar of dried blackberry leaves and rosehips off a shelf.

"Could I coax you into adding a splash of something stronger?" Peggy asked, propping herself on an elbow and looking at Gwen hopefully.

Gwen waved a hand flippantly. "Oh, go on."

CHAPTER ONE

1940

March 13th, 1940

MEETING GWENDOLINE had been a blessing. For those nurses who were going to be moved overseas, there had been an orientation meeting at the university.

Alice was not supposed to be there on that particular day. She had applied to work in one of France's convalescing hospitals, but her application had been misfiled, and she was sent to be a front-line field nurse instead.

She was terrified, and her mother was on the verge of hysteria, but she knew that this was something that she could easily back out of - nor did she want to. So there she was, twenty minutes early in a lecture hall, equipped with a notepad and a pencil and trembling in her shoes.

This was not an unfamiliar room to her. One of her first-year English lectures had been held in this very room. How young she'd been then, how self-assured. She'd always wanted to be a writer, and she'd been fortunate enough that her family had just enough money for her to go to school and get her degree. And, while she may not have graduated with a masters, as her mother had hoped, she had gained a broader knowledge, a more analytical mind, and a deeper love of literature than she had ever had before.

She'd spent the previous year working in secretarial positions, which she'd adapted very quickly. Perhaps not as creatively satisfying as she had anticipated, but given the state of the economy, she was thankful for the job.

And then the war broke out.

She hadn't been the only one early for the lecture. There was another girl already there. Leaning casually against the front desks and chatting with a man Alice assumed to be the lecturer. A doctor in a clean white lab coat, not some army clerk like the one who had messed up Alice's papers.

She thought that might be something to soothe her mother's anxieties. She could be heading to a place where she could die at any moment, but there would still be eligible young men around.

The other girl seemed to already know the doctor. They were both quite relaxed as they discussed the many types of suturing materials that would be available. Alice wasn't trying to eavesdrop on the conversation, however, it was a very quiet room. Alice had no idea what suturing material even was.

She opened her notebook, flipped to a fresh page. At least she knew how to sew. She was a pretty dab hand with a needle, but she refused to consider the difference between stitching a garment and sewing human tissue at this time.

Other women started filing into the room. The lecturer patted his companion's arm and nodded towards the desks. The young lady in question slid onto the seat next Alice. Alice felt as if she was being scrutinized for a little while before the woman extended her hand in greeting.

"Gwendoline Richardson."

"Alice Harding?" So unsure was she that her own name came out as a question. "It sounds like you know what you're doing."

Gwen tossed her hair proudly. "I ought to. I'm going to be a doctor. I deferred medical school for this."

Not only was Alice impressed that this young woman was foregoing medical school in order to serve in the army, but she was also impressed that she was going to be a doctor in the first place. Alice wasn't a dud; in fact, she thought she was fairly smart, as her college scores demonstrated, but she was immediately intellectually frightened by the woman in front of her.

Intimidated in a lot of ways really. Gwen was intelligent and attractive, and determined to go to the one place Alice was terrified off. "Why go to the front line, when you could go anywhere?"

Gwen shrugged and set down a notebook on her desk. When Alice glanced through the book to locate a blank page, she noticed anatomical diagrams and illustrations, as well as what she assumed were chemical structures.

"I want to be a surgeon. I go to one of the military hospitals, even one of the ones in America, and I get stuck changing bandages and wiping noses."

That honestly didn't sound too bad to Alice.

"If I go to the front, I can get real time in a theatre." Gwen leaned forward over her notebook, eyes almost shining with determination. "After all this is over, I'll have more experience than most of the men in my class. It will be harder for them to deny me a good residency. I might just be able to escape the drudgery of general practice."

From the set of the woman's jaw, Alice assumed she had put a lot of thought into this. She had probably followed up on her paperwork instead of trusting it would be alright. Still it wasn't the 'we have to take care of our boys' or 'we have to do all we can in these dark times' Alice had expected. It didn't bear any resemblance to the poster slogans the other volunteers Alice had talked to spouted."Oh, that's..."

"Terribly noble of me. I know." Gwen winked and neatly crossed her ankles, her attitude of entitlement matched by her sense of comedy. "What about you? Doing your patriotic duty? Trying to run away, but discovering that the circus is not a liable career?"

"Something in the middle, I suppose. I want to help, but the idea of going to the front line scares me." That was an understatement. She was petrified.

However, she was going to go through with it.

She was sick and tired of reading about exciting things but never actually doing anything thrilling. The universe had made its voice heard. She was about to embark on a journey. A definitely uncomfortable, possibly lethal journey.

"You stick with me, honey." The other woman reached over and patted her knee. "We'll get through this. And call me Gwen. Gwendoline is my grandmother."

Alice emerged from the darkness of the lecture hall two hours later, rather shell-shocked. Nurses were supposed to perform a lot of things, and she had no idea how to do any of them.

Gwen patted her on the shoulder. "It is going to be alright. You're smart and tougher than you think. You can do this."

"Did you want to get tea?" Alice offered. "You can talk me through proper hand washing again."

"I would, but I have a prior engagement at the train station I really can't miss." Gwen replied, distracted.

A young soldier stood on the pavement, his bicycle resting against his side with a duffel bag attached on the rear. Gwen ran over to him and encircled his neck with her arms. He wrapped his arms around her and pressed his face against her neck.

As she saw her new friend ride away on the bike's handlebars, Alice felt a twinge of sympathetic sadness. She wasn't envious of such a relationship. Having to say goodbye to her father was difficult enough. Saying goodbye to a lover, she could never imagine.

As she walked to the university bookshop, the notion haunted her. Not for the first time she was struck by the terrible waste of it all. All the lives lost, all the families torn apart, all the heartbreak, and for what?

The bookstore itself was near empty, so different from the hub that it had been when she was in school.

Alice walked through the aisles to the shelf of medical literature, mentally calculating her limited resources. Though she had hoped to acquire a duplicate of everything, she realised it was impossible.

She hadn't taken biology when she was in school, so started with a copy of the Red Cross First Aid Textbook, and found herself glancing between The Principles and Practice of Nursing, and The Textbook of Surgery for Nurses.

It was more than she intended to spend, but she discovered one secondhand for a decent price and decided to buy all four, planning to start her studies as soon as she got home.

November 28th, 1940

The area around Dover was lush and green, and it was a lovely place to be. The British camp had a more laid-back vibe than Alice had anticipated. Sure, there was a sense of unease.

But it also seemed more like a vacation than she had anticipated. The nurses had all taken a trip down to the cliffs the day before. It was difficult to be scared when staring out at such a breathtaking landscape.

Alice didn't know why everyone had warned her about winter on the English coast. It really wasn't any worse than the weather back home. Especially not today. The sun had come out after a week of cold, soaking rain. The nursing staff were taking advantage. They'd grabbed a pile of supply boxes at the camp's border and were enjoying the autumn light. Gwen's yarn was in Alice's hands as she struggled to unravel a terrible coil in her knitting.

This scarf appeared to be heading in the same direction as the mittens before it, unraveling completely as Gwen uttered every swear word she'd learned during their time at war — as well as a couple Alice was pretty sure she made up. Martha was smiling over many folded sheets on the next box over.

Martha's reading was enough to divert Alice's attention away from Gwen's knitting problems. Martha was intelligent, talented, and charming.

Alice had wanted to be her friend since the first time she saw her beaming out from behind her starched white wimple with the type of apple pink cheeks she had assumed were done up for advertising until she saw them in person.

She was sure Martha would be an amazing friend, she just had to initiate some kind of conversation. And maybe pinch Gwen for whatever that look she got every time she caught Alice watching Martha. It wasn't helping, whatever it meant.

A couple of people emerged from the woods. An older man leaning heavily on the arm stretched over her shoulders, obviously unable to maintain his own weight, and a lady with curly brown hair clutching a worried crimson spot on her abdomen.

Army medics rushed in, catching them both before they could collapse.

"I need to speak to command and use your radio as soon as possible." The woman gasped, more red spreading over her hand every time she moved.

Gwen dropped her knitting and leapt into action. "Right now, you need a hospital slightly more than you need a radio. Boys, get them to the tent. Ladies, our life of leisure is at an end for the day."

Alice had never liked Lance Corporal Swainston. He was stuffy, always unpleasantly sweaty, and he stared. She liked him even less right now.

He was getting in the way of saving the life of a British woman who was bleeding out under her hands. It didn't seem to matter to Alice whether she was a spy or not. If she was a spy, they'd certainly want her alive so they could question her.

Gwen bravely confronted the man. He was a half-head taller than she was, and she wasn't about to give him an inch. "How about I do my job and make sure she doesn't bleed out from the bullet wound in her stomach, and you do your job and figure out if she's one of ours or not?"

The Lance Corporal wasn't quite as concerned as Alice had imagined. He grumbled and scratched his temples, as if he was the one who was being irritated. "Nurse Richardson. As the highest-ranking officer at this camp-"

"Actually, you're not," Gwen replied, interrupting him. "Doctor Jones has the rank of Major. In reality, I hold the rank of Captain. And as long as we're both in the hospital, I'll have the upper hand. So, I recommend that you leave my ward and see what's out there. If you can't contact someone on the radio to validate that code,"

Gwen turned her back determinedly on the man, making her dismissal clear. "Alice, Martha, how are we looking?"

"He's stable. I think it is just exhaustion and delayed shock." Martha said, inspecting the older man's pupils.

Alice spoke up quickly. "I've got a much bigger concern. With pressure, I think I've brought the bleeding under control, but we'll need at least a unit." She fixed her gaze on the woman she was supporting. Since there had been no time for introductions, Alice was thinking of their patient, who was becoming paler by the second. "Do you know what your blood type is? Normally, it's on the men's dog tags, but I'm guessing you don't have those."

"Fraid I rather missed that step. I've been terribly busy the last few months." Their guest's teeth chattered. Her whole body wracked with shivers.

Alice leaned harder on the wound. The remains of ripped sutures were pulling out and aggravating the situation. "Over here, I need blankets and a hot water bottle. She's in a state of shock."

"Shock. Oh. That's rather bad isn't it?" Their guest's voice faded to a weak tremor and her eyes fluttered.

"Nothing we can't handle," Alice said, smiling as reassuringly as she could.

Their guest passed out after that. It was probably for the best. The next bit got a little messy.

December 3rd, 1940

Their patient shook in her cot. She lay there for a few moments, blinking as she attempted to get her bearings, before attempting to pull herself free from her covers.

Alice set down her text book and hurried to her bedside. "Oh good. You're awake. We don't have a female ward here, so you're bunking in with us for now."

The woman groaned and let Alice help her into a sitting position. "Is it normal to hurt this much?"

Alice grimaced in sympathy. "Morphine is in short supply out here I'm afraid. I can get you an aspirin."

"I'd rather have a whiskey."

"We might be able to help with that too." Gwen said with a mischievous wink. "Don't tell the men."

Gwen rummaged in her footlocker and emerged with a bottle of amber and three camp mugs a few minutes later. Although the bottle of rye whiskey was theoretically illegal, the officers looked the other way as long as the nurses behaved themselves. After all, whiskey may be 'medicinal.'

The Matron occasionally joins them for a drink. She poured a finger's worth of coffee into each of the glasses. The third received only a smidgen of a mouthful. She handed Alice the light mug before handing one to their patient.

"I'm Sister Richardson and this is Sister Harding," Gwen said, obviously giving up on the mystery of not being properly introduced. "Gwen and Alice if we're going to be friends. And the unconscious blonde over there is Martha Greene."

Martha was having a well-deserved nap after tending to the woman's companion, and she was presently lying face-down on her cot with her covers drawn up to her ears.

The brunette woman smiled and breathed in the vapors off her drink. "Agent Carter. Peggy, since you saved my life and got me whiskey." Peggy raised her tin mug in a toast. "To new friends in terrible situations."

"To friends." Alice and Gwen echoed, clinking the three cups together.

Peggy took a sip and let out a long appreciative sigh. "Any chance of that radio any time soon? It was rather urgent."

Alice chuckled and licked the alcohol from her lips. She had thought that might be the first question once she was awake. "Once you've finished your drink, one of us will walk you over. Lance Corporal Swainston was apparently reprimanded for stalling instead of immediately reporting you and your companion."

Agent Carter pursed her lips and took a tiny sip of her whiskey. "I hate to say I'm pleased."

Gwen smirked over the rim of her mug. "But it is kind of pleasing."

Peggy and the Doctor stayed with them for three days before they were able to leave. They passed the time by playing chess and swapping horror stories about their most worst college professors.

death cannot kill what never dies. they that love beyond the world cannot be separated by it.

OCCASIONALLY 18+

read it on wattpad

pairing | bucky barnes x original female character

face claim | on wattpad, i use emilia clarke as the face claim to my oc. you may wish to do the same, or if you can chose someone else entirely.

warnings | mild to strong language, adult humour, angst, details of war, mentions of torture, some blood and gore, sfw content, some nsfw content, mentions of ptsd and depression

disclaimer | i do not own any of the pictures, gifs, etc included. i do not own any of the marvel cinematic stories or characters. i only have ownership of my character - alice harding.

feedback, requests and constructive criticism are all welcome.

summary | bucky barnes never asked to be a soldier. all he wanted was to escape out of this nightmare and return to his normal life in brooklyn with his best friend, forgetting about all that had occurred. when an injury finds him in the care of one of the camp's nursing sisters, the flirtation that followed was intended to be just that: a distraction. However, that bullet graze could have been the best thing that could have happened to him.

PART ONE

captain america: the first avenger

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty One

Chapter Twenty Two

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: sam wilson x reader

𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬, 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝! 𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐋/𝐑𝐄𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐀𝐍𝐘 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐘 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐒!

18 + ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 18+, language, nsfw, smut, unprotected sex (wrap it up folks!) - sorry for any missed.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 689

Intimacy was something you cherished a great deal. You had come to the realization that it was the only moment that you felt loved, safe, and happy with life absolutely and utterly.

The feeling of Sam's fingertips as he traced them across your stomach, the way his hair ticked the inside of your thighs as he did the most explicit things, and the way his heated breath felt over your neck as he shifted his hips at a rate that moaned and called for him. The most marvelous sound that blessed his ears.

"Go faster, Sam, please," You murmured, eyes squeezing shut as you grasped his shoulders, your nails scratching into the skin that just egged Sam on. "I need to feel all of you, every inch."

To draw your knees farther apart, Sam moved his hand down, allowing him further access and a chance to give you exactly what you needed and what you were craving. It had been too long since he had been with you like this, that it was almost like he had forgotten what he was doing, that Sam could feel himself steadily deteriorating. There was a side of him that felt like this was your first time all over again, but it wasn't long before everything came rushing back to Sam and he knew just what to do when it came to making you feel totally alive.

His hands danced at a great tempo, enough to make you feel as though you were in paradise, but not so much to make you feel as if your intimacy had come to an end. Sam needed to take his time, remember every moment, and learn every inch of your body; to be physically involved, there would be plenty of time in your future.

As you squeezed Sam's shoulders, you felt drunk, not realizing that you were going to leave rough bruises on his skin. Because of his being really hands-on in the hotel's spa lounge (which caused you to leave the pool faster than expected), you were already scattered in hickeys, so it was now your time to leave imprints on his skin.

Mouths were entangled as Sam continued to move in and out of you, his tongue going in a perfect dance with yours that the two of you had dearly missed. One of Sam's hands ran through your hair, tugging softly whenever his body ran into a surge of ecstasy, sending his mind into a daze.

The headboard was banging against the wall, and you could only hope that the family in the neighbouring room were not light sleepers, but you truly didn't care. It was too long, and you were both desperate to get close to one another. It was flawless and everything you had ever desired. Your bodies matched seamlessly together, you were full, the two of you knowing exactly what to do from words to acts.

"I'm close," You mumbled against his lips, the words falling out as you tipped your head back in a heavy sigh, taking advantage of Sam and putting his mouth directly on the bare flesh.

"Come on then, baby. I need you to cum for me.

When you came around him, your body jerked beneath Sam's frame, palms digging harder into his shoulders as you let the ecstasy take control. You came properly for the first in months and he was not far away, your entire body was on fire, his thrusts were more urgent and harsher as he rode you through your orgasm, chasing his own sweet release.

You looked at each other with a smile on your faces as the two of you came down, bodies wrapped in sweetness, and your souls finding it hard to cool down. Sam's brow was smooth with sweat, his mouth partially open as he got his breath back, and he turned to you, taking in your spent appearance.

Your hair was fanned out on the pillow beneath you, a thin sheen of sweat was slick against your heaving chest. You looked like a fucking angel.

feel free to submit prompts and requests!

feel free to submit prompts and requests!

feel free to submit prompts and requests!

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: tony stark x reader

𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬, 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝! 𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐋/𝐑𝐄𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐀𝐍𝐘 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐘 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐒!

18 + ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 18+, language, nsfw, smut, slight dom/sub kink, boss kink, office sex, oral f! giving/receiving, oral m! giving/receiving, unprotected sex (wrap it up folks!) - sorry for any missed.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.5k

You hadn't even been in the room for one second before Tony was stalking over towards the door and kissing you hard.

It was a desperate embrace, an attempt to find a safe spot. Taken back, you put both of your hands on Tony's chest before guiding him a little backward. They were already together, and he was breathing hard, leaning his brow against yours.

"Have you been crying?" You muttered, delicate, and anxious. Tony had begun to sweat, had checked himself for a few minutes before you had arrived, and he felt he looked pretty good, but you had picked it up, of course. "What's wrong?"

Tony shook his head, pulling you closely, not having to let go. "I'm just so glad to see you."

"Stop changing the subject," you whispered to his shoulder, but as he rubbed his hand up and down your back, he managed to ignore you. "Tony."

Although you were not present during the meeting, you had sat outside the soundproofed room and observed; taking special note of your boss's body language. Tony was agitated, to say the least, and after visually watching the two former best friends fall out over the possibility of the Accords, you could feel the immense tension in the compound.

You pushed Tony away properly, before moving to sit down on his chair behind his desk. Before breathing out heavily, he steadily turned around and wiped one hand over his cheek as he struggled to think up a reason for his tear-stained face. Tony was just shrugging, he couldn't think of an argument and she'd have to consider it.

"I'm sorry," he said, staring down awkwardly at the ground. Tony wasn't the sort of guy to simply say sorry to someone, but you deserved it. He felt as if he had recently let you down, as though he had let everyone down.

"It's okay."

"It isn't, I've let you down."

"Tony, you really haven't." You quietly smiled and laid the negative feelings to the back of your mind. You were was powerless to push him into anything because it was just going to create anxiety. Tony eventually walked over to the chair where he squeezed your hand after a few minutes, pulled you up so that you stood in front of him, and stared into your eyes - hoping to locate some reservations. The irritation and rage that had been building up over the past few hours were ready for both to spill over.

"I want you to look after me. I love having control, seeing you all vulnerable and whimpering." Tony's hand was trailing over your arms as he continued to speak about all the filthy things that had you weak at the knees. "But I want you to take care of me this time."

You blinked a few times, surprised at his submission. "I don't know how to - "

"Just tell me what to do, boss me about, ride me." Tony moved you against the desk and tenderly kissed you. By putting one hand on his shoulder, the other on the edge of the desk, you obeyed. You were doing a terrible job for someone who was going to be in control; your mind was elsewhere. "Come on, love. It's not as if you haven't sat on my cock before and - "

"I just love you," you blurted out, your stomach spinning when Tony peculiarly stared. "I really love you and it scares me to death, Tony. I don't want to see you upset and hurt."

You weren't stupid; you knew that because of the pressures of the day, the reason he wanted to be dominated. He needed to rest.

"Good job I'm not hurt or upset then, isn't it?" Tony faked a grin and kissed you again, urgently responding to the kiss this time, wanting to give him what he wanted. "I love you as well,"

When you forced him back until he fell on the chair, he mumbled against your mouth. You broke the kiss and shifted to undo the waistcoat of Tony. "I love you so fucking much."

"I know you do."

You straddled his thighs and played over his chest with a single fingertip. With the new-found supremacy, you were not fully sure on how to go about it. Rolling your hips over his hardening cock, Tony's hands fell to your waist, chuckling arrogantly as a groan slipped out of his mouth.

"Just like that," he muttered, leisurely shutting his eyes. You repeated the action, but with more pressure this time, and when you grasped his shoulders, Tony's eyes flung wide. "What a fucking angel."

As excitement tingled through your body, you pressed a soft kiss against his cheek. One moan came out of your lips. "Look at my girl, look at my fucking girl. Look at how pretty you are, with your head thrown back."

So much for you being in control.

"Feels so good," They didn't even have to speak and the couple were both moaning messes as they clung to the bodies of each other. Your motions just kept getting sharper and faster.

"I can't fucking do this," He said, startling you for a moment as you thought that you had done something wrong. However, you came to the realization that you were in for a ride when you were tossed onto the desk - gently, of course. "I need to fuck you now. It'd be a crime for you cum without my cock in you." His discourteous mouth always took you by surprise, but when he was in desperate need of release, you secretly enjoyed the words that slipped from his mouth. "Want to taste you first though."

You moaned at his suggestion and helped him take your saturated panties off, tossing them around the room somewhere. Tony needed to hear you, wanted to hear the moans and whines that slipped from your mouth, the 'I love you's' and whatever else you had to say, he just needed you. Everybody had left the building for a long time, so there was no reason for the two of them to be silent.

It was enticing for Tony's tongue to glide over your core, circle your clit and pull your warm juices together, and instantly you let out a series of soft moans. There was no argument, Tony was professional, and he still knew how to turn you into a shaking mess. As he slipped his tongue inside you, Tony himself was purring, not holding back in the slightest as he poured all his frustrations and irritation into making you feel amazing.

"Jesus," You choked, your body rocking forward at his actions. "Keep doing that," you said, referring to Tony's that circled around your clit.

Tony shifted his mouth to suck on the inside of your leg - his thumb still doing wonders. For a few seconds, there was silence as he stared up at you from his position between your legs, and the smile he gave her told you everything you wanted to hear. He was yours, and you were his. The two of them will both come back to each other no matter what happened. Part of Tony felt it was real love-nothing could deter them from being together, but he didn't want anything to curse him.

He clasped his lips to your clit. He needed you to know every single second of the day that you were everything for him, that he loved you more than anything he had ever loved, that you made him feel things he never imagined he would feel. He knew that you were far too sweet for him, that's what everyone thought, and he was so happy to have you in his life.

"Holy shit -," You were cut off, not being sluggish or caring, by two of Tony's fingertips pushing inside your pulsing entrance. As numerous swear words tumbled from your lips, it was quick and rough, throwing you into a trance. You clung to his hair, your back arching off the desk, tugging it just as he wanted and often stopping to brush your fingertips through the brown, wavy locks.

"I love it when you are like this. All spread out for me, ready for me to take you."

For Tony, you had unconsciously opened your legs wider and wider, granting him easier access to tongue your folds with long stripes whenever he didn't drive his fingers deep inside.

As he could see that you were approaching a climax, Tony pulled away from you. While for over a year you had just been intimate with each other, through the sexual experiences he had already learned to read you and he knew how to work your body, which gave you so much pleasure that you were ready to burst.

Whining as you sat up, you rested on your elbows. "Why did you pull away?" you asked, calling out for Tony. In seconds, he was on his feet and was bending over to innocently kiss you. "I was so close."

"I know... that's why I stopped."

Tony raised one eyebrow, caught your cheek and pulled your face to smile at him. "Can you do something for me?"

You nodded your head and fluttered your eyelashes, anticipating some sort of sexual remark to be his order.

"Can you tell me that you love me again?"

A touch of confusion pulled you away; you couldn't believe what you were hearing. For whatever abnormal explanation, Tony was defenseless and feeling alone and it tore your heart in two that you couldn't solve whatever the problem was.

You could see that it was something personal and it was keeping him down, which eventually disturbed your relationship, but because the love you shared was deep, you were able to work through the hard times.

"You know that I love you."

"I know you do." Tony agreed with her statement, and he knew it. He wanted to hear that again, however, only to ensure he wasn't on his own. "I just want you to say it again. It sounds so good coming from your lips."

"I love you." You pressed one single kiss against Tony's lips. "I love you." Another to his cheek. "I love you." And finally, another kiss to his lips. "Please don't ever question my love for you, because it hurts me."

"I wasn't questioning it, I promise. Just needed some sort of confirmation, because after today I feel like such a fucking idiot."

"Somethings wrong with you and I wish you would tell me what it was. There's nothing worse than seeing the man that you love all distraught." You cupped both of his cheeks, sat up properly at last, and tipped his head up so that he gazed right into your eyes. "Do you trust me?"

Tony nodded. "More than anything."

"So, why can't you tell me?"

Before blinking out a few tears, Tony frowned. "I don't want you to know because it would mess everything up and it will play on your mind forever. I can't give you that pain."

"Will you ever tell me?" you dared to ask - you didn't want to rile him up and make him worse, but you just had to know.

Before shifting his hand towards the side and kissing the palm of your hand, Tony thought for a second. "I promise you that when it's sorted, you will find out everything. Until then, just know that I love you and I'm doing this to keep you safe and away from danger."

Accepting his answer, all you could do was wait until the time came.

You happily got out of bed to get ready for the workday after spending the afternoon wrapped in each other's bodies and in the sheets of one of the compound's spare bedrooms.

You had a meeting scheduled with General Ross in about an hour, no doubt he wanted to discuss the Accords. Tony did his best to postpone your goodbye - taking your waist and dragging you back down, planting messy kisses across your neck, flattering you with kind words, and even promising to prepare dinner, but because of him and his convincing nature, you could not risk being late again.

"Do you think the other guys know that we have sex in the conference room on a regular basis?" Tony asked as he watched you get dressed into your blouse and skirt.

"One hundred percent."

"Can I say something?" he hummed.

"Of course."

"I've never seen someone look so fucking hot in a pencil skirt before and I just want to rip it off you." Tony placed both hands on your waist as he pulled you back down so you were laying on top of him, your head resting on his bare chest.

Rolling your eyes, you pressed a quick kiss to his chest. "Mm, I suppose I'll take that as a compliment."

He chuckled before flipping your body, your back now pressed against his chest and stomach. Tony's hand began to trail down your the front of your skirt, slowly hiking it up.

"I have to go to work," You told him, even though you made no move to deter his actions.

Tony proceeded to trail up your skirt until it rested at the bottom of your stomach, and displayed the side of your bra. If anyone was to walk in at that moment, they certainly would get an eye full, but the two of you were too lost in your desires.

"Hurry up then," You insisted, your own hand landing on top of Tony's to pull his hand over to your panties.

Tony's breath was hot in your ears as he whispered, "Do it yourself."

When he swiped his hand away from yours, you whimpered, jumping to sit on top of your uniform at the bottom of your stomach. You slightly turned your head to the side to glance at Tony, trying to see whether or not he was teasing, but all you saw was superiority and thirst.

"Give me a kiss first."

You were able to do so, and your mouth was pressed against his. When you took hold of him, the abrupt urge to satisfy him rushed through your bloodstream, sliding your tongue into his mouth and moaning as one of his hands shifted to twist into your unmade hair.

Tony pulled away and gripped your chin before nodding once. "Go on."

"Tony..." you trailed off, voice unsteady. "I want to make you feel good."

"You do every single day, sweetheart."

After the remark, your heart warmed and you gave him another kiss, this one passionate and full of affection. Pushing your hand down her body during the kiss and slid it under your underwear, unknown to Tony, who was so wrapped up in the sensation of your tongue forming outlines of your mouth. Tony did not pull away until your fingers touched your clit and a light moan escaped from your mouth.

"Good girl," he cooed, watching as you rolled your hips against his unconsciously.

He was already in paradise when he was with you, but it was more than heaven to see you like this, pleasing yourself and rolling around on top of his body. The back of your head leaned on his shoulders and he could quickly turn to press soft kisses over your cheek and chin, all while watching your fingertips penetrate yourself perfectly.

By the second, he could feel himself growing harder, but this time, it wasn't about him, it was your moment. You paused to take down your panties which allowed him easier access. You were no longer self-conscious at this level and merely craved a release. The fact that Tony watched your every move and got harder, as you could imagine, made it a lot more sensual for the entire case.

"Looks like you've been done this before." Tony gripped your waist tighter. "Have you got yourself off by using your fingers before?"

When you took your fingertips out to massage your clit, you blushed, juices coating your hand and the sheets of the bed. "Yes," you admitted, letting out a deep breath.

"When?" Tony started, waiting tolerantly for you answer. At first, all he got was a couple of whimpers and moans as you edged closer to your climax, but he was half-shocked when you actually responded.

"The other week when you were away for a few days. I missed you and I was alone in the compound." Your confession was a gift to Tony, who groaned as he pictured you lying on the bed, hair flat against the covers, working yourself closer and closer, as you thought of him and the times they had shared together.

"In the office?" he asked, to which you shook your head. "Where then?"

"The bedroom."

"Whose bedroom?" He pressed for an answer.

"Yours." You replied, casting your eyes down. Again, he caught your head and twisted you around to look at him, confusion and rage swirling in his gaze. When you took your fingers out, you kept yourself from going over the brink.

"My bed?"

"Yes, I'm sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry about, love," Tony said, moving a piece of hair that had fallen into your face. "I wish I had been there to watch you."

"I thought about you the whole time."

He opened his mouth in surprise before kissing you hard. "Fucking perfect," Before tossing the two of you over, he mumbled against your lips until he was on top. He freed his cock from his briefs without taking his time, sighing softly at the liberation before entering you without compassion.

"Not the innocent girl I first met, are you?" he teased. "Look at what I've done to you."

You moaned at his words, grasping his shoulders as you pulled him down for a long, deep embrace. Every now and then, Tony had to pause, his thrusts getting clumsy because you were tight. It was almost embarrassing, but you were doing it for him, rendering him vulnerable. He tried to hold his orgasm at bay somehow as he gently and steadily squeezed your clit, a contrast to his hard thrusts.

"I wonder what all of the guys would think if they saw you right now. Moaning and clenching around my cock."

"Wonder what all of your superhero buddies would think if they saw us like this," You shot back, smirking slightly as you dragged his chest with your fingernails.

"I'd kill them if they ever saw you like that - for my eyes only," He returned before pulling one of your legs over his shoulder, giving him a better angle. "God, the thought of you on my bed, getting yourself off while I'm miles away. You are going to kill me, baby. Next time, come to my office and call me, can't have my girl using her fingers to get her release without me being involved. Do you like the sound of that?"

You had never dreamed to ever be in this situation. A stunning man above you, his thrusts strong as he spoke about all the dirty things he would do to you. You were not afraid to admit that you did like the sound of it. "I do."

He darkly grinned. "I know, I know." Before chuckling again, Tony turned to look at the clock. "Look at that, late for work yet again. What excuse are you going to use this time? You can't exactly tell them that you were being fucked by your boss." Tony's sentences were broken up a couple of times due to his moaning, signaling to you that he was close.

"I'm going to cum," you breathed out, mouth wide open as your back arched. You were soaking Tony's cock within seconds and when you moaned heavily, your orgasm taking over your entire body. Soon after, Tony arrived at his own climax. To keep his moans and grunts at bay, he buried his head in your neck and bit down on the collar of your suit.

You restarted the conversation after the two of them had done and they were feeling absolutely relaxed. "Where did that come from?"

Tony chuckled before shaking his head. "I really don't know." You stood to your feet, skirt slipping back down. Tony put his arms around your waist, helping to ease her upright. "Did you like it though?"

"Loved it," you whispered drowsily, forehead dropping to Tony's shoulder as the two of you held each other close. "Can't wait to do it again."

"Never satisfied, are you?"

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: peter parker x stark reader

𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬, 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝! 𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐋/𝐑𝐄𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐀𝐍𝐘 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐘 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐒!

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: sfw, implied public sex (both characters are of age) - sorry for any missed.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.3k

Dear Super Secret Boy Band,

Heavy breathing, weakening knees. Hands sliding up your shirt, fingers brushing your stomach, shivers.

This is just an e-mail to remind everyone of a couple of office rules. Nothing major, all we want is to make sure this stuff is followed.

Eyes closed, gasps held, lips mouthing against throats with encouraging moans. A darkness that hides sweat-glazed foreheads, clenched hands in blankets, warmth.

First off, no food deliveries directly to the compound. Any orders must be sent to the security hut and then picked up.

Muscles tensed, groans, kisses sloppily trailed from collarbone to lips. Jeans kicked off and discarded to the floor.

Second, a request must be made to take equipment out of the building for non-Avenger related purposes. This is for the safety of the very expensive equipment.

Muffled moans, giggles, teeth on the bottom lip grinding down. You slide your legs together, ankles locked his back.

Third, if you don't want your food stolen from the fridge, it must be labeled with your name. House rules say all unclaimed food is free game.

So warm, so sweet, so good. The warmth, the hair ruffled, the necks bruised. Slow hands intertwining and voices calling in unison.

All of this is clearly stated in the official rules. Come on, guys. Be on time, and no co-worker relationships. It's all pretty standard.

Thanks,

Tony Stark

"I don't understand. Did they find out?"

Shaking your head, you began to bite down on the inside of your lip. "My dad wouldn't have sent an email, he wouldn't have called us out like that. It would have been a private meeting."

Peter shook his head and pulled himself out of the chair in their shared office. He moved to the window with long, worrying steps and stared out, quiet. Your fingertips kneaded, nervously, onto the beanbag chair; you dared to invade the subject and disrupt the functioning of his mind.

"What do we do?"

Rhythmically, his knuckles rapped on the window as if they were attempting to pound a cure out of the smudged glass. "I don't know."

You hated it. The sensation of hanging over a precipice, literally waiting to tip you over the brink with a gentle breeze. They were teetering.

Originally, you recalled Peter asking you out, humbly, obviously delighted when you had said yes. Dinner dates evolved to long walks, a hummingbird in your chest that you wished would never go anywhere, paralleling the relentless climb of emotions every time you saw him.

You was reminded of Peter's random bouts of stereotypical romance by a vase of flowers on the bedroom dresser, as few as they were, for he was all about cliché deeds. He traced his thumb over the windowpane, causing your wrist to breeze with phantom touches.

"We could tell him," you suggested, concerned by his uncharacteristic stillness. "I don't know, my dad might make an exception."

"I don't think so." He gestured to nothing with one hand, a usual conversation accent with him. "They're obviously trying to crack down on us a little, it wouldn't go over well."

He was right, because he was, of course. Their brains were functioning almost the same way, and you had drawn that conclusion. However, it was different to see his thin lips going across it, followed by a furrow of a brow over rich brown eyes. You didn't want to say what would follow inevitably, you didn't want to imply the chance, but by the way, Peter's back kept tense and relaxed, as if he was dreaming about planning for a blow himself.

"So, I guess we'll call a rain check on dinner tonight," speaking lightly, you  hoped that the hint of humour would break down this brick wall Peter had built up.

The masks could always be pulled back, revealing an intriguing tidbit or sliver of a previously concealed character. That was something that you had always loved that about him. The willingness of Peter to chameleon from boisterous funny guy to serious critic, very close to your own world outlook, offered their levels of relationship to focus on.

He didn't pick up the bait, letting the joke fall flat, the silence was almost resounding around the empty room. Almost everyone had gone home already, teasing Sam on the way out because he was one hundred percent the culprit of all the stolen food complaints.

"What do you want to do?" Peter asked, softly, with his eyes tracking the sluggish progression of the outside traffic.

You swallowed against the lump in your throat. "There's not that many options." They were dancing around it. Finally, he turned away from the large window, and stood there, gazing at you, his arms hanging loosely from his side. Uncertain.

"So, I guess this is it?" He phrased it like a question. For a second, you pondered, considering how blocked from all directions they were, then nodded. Peter has his gaze fixed on you. A breathy chuckle fled from your throat.

"Good thing we weren't going long."

Four months. Not quite a drop in the ocean as compared to the rest of the time. But during those few short months, you had fallen for him, and you had fallen hard. It was inevitable.

Don't think about his stupid, warm brown eyes, don't do it. I swear to God.

"Yeah," he agreed. "This could have gotten really messy." He ran a hand through his hair, and started to edge towards the door. "I'll, uh, see you around?"

You smiled sadly. "Yeah, see you around."

It was less than an hour later when you saw him next.

Your dad had decided to call a full team meeting in the main conference room.

Out of fear that they would connect with his, you did not dare to cast your eyes upwards. Distracted, you fidgeted with the sleeve on your shirt, reminiscing of how it reminded you of Peter.

On your second date, you wore this outfit. A quick brunch where, at the end of the meal, he admitted that the entire time there had been chocolate smudges on the corners of your mouth. In revenge, you thwacked his shoulder, blushing before he said it was funny.

In those unique romantic moments, he occasionally called you sweet, voice landing lowly on your ears. It made you feel almost as treasured, just as Peter would pronounce your name so naturally as if you were born to rest in the curves of his tongue.

From under the table, you felt a hand brush yours.

Glancing around, you saw that the conference room was now empty, the rest of the team had spilled out into their respected areas of the compound - she had missed the whole meeting.

You glanced down to see Peter grasping your fingertips softly. The shell of your ear was struck by his breath.

"Storage hallway," he said softly. "Second closet on the right at 2:00."

2:04

Your back hit the wall, legs wrapping around his waist, thudding in the dim room. Peter's hips pushed roughly against yours.

Nothing felt better than the comfort of Peter's grip on your legs, your shirt pulled up around your waist. Your fingertips raced through his hair, instinctively knowing where to grasp, feel, catch, even in the black pitch, insistent lips trailing over your cheek.

"You know," Peter muttered, hands sliding to your rear and grabbing to support you better, "we might be able to take advantage of our fairly oblivious friends."

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