Disclaimer: I don't own any rights to Harry Potter or Marvel. Make no monies as I tip toe through books, movies, anime, cartoons and such. My muse harasses me to write then quickly abandons me. *sigh*
I have no beta, still on a hunt so constructive criticism is welcomed. Remember writers create and share at their leisure. If you don't like then move on. Being mean is the main characteristic of a Troll not an engrossed reader. Now ladies and gents on with the show...
She was too delicious to pass up.
Her features would not be considered beautiful nor exotic. Just pretty, and unassuming, until her head tilts just so as a sly smile curl on full tinted lips. Taller than most of her counter parts but not imposing, generous curves without being overt. Eyes the color of bourbon with the undertone of gold, not brown, sienna or mahogany. Gold, one of the most precious metals that is greedily coveted. Her hair hints, if let unbound of an untamed nature. So, she strangles it within pretty hair combs and clips. She is the one many would pass over, ignored for a flasher package. The ones that are easily opened for a quick fix to a decadent need. She the one you have to work on. All the while an ache settles in your gut to touch, hold and possess. She inconspicuously walks among the hot flowers and fragile blossoms, a hidden gem.
The demons that shadow his every move and thought accompanied with the mass graves he has personally buried won't deter him from claiming her. His gnawing need of her utter submission crept around the edges of his psyche. Awakening things within his father warned him about. He was always aware what was deeply hidden, the savage side that polite society ignores. It feeds on the hunt, uncomplicated, primal. Hydra, an old misguided faction thought they understood this and tried to harness this part of human nature. Fashion mindless war machines of flesh and bone. Men like Alexander Pierce capitalized on it to wage their personal crusades.
No one knows what gives Sargent James Buchanan "Bucky" Barnes of the 107th Infantry Regiment and one of the oldest living American soldiers the motivation on healing his mind and body. Most would guess his friendship with Captain Steve Rogers. Others would say it was to give a heartfelt one finger salute to his tormentors and abusers that broke and remolded him into the "Winter Solider". None would guess his true reason. It was simple, he found his ultimate target. One that gave his fragmented mind and tattered body a focus that few could understand.
To understand the mind numbing, bone aching journey, you have to had stared at the abyss. Drifted so close to the edge, it's darkness imprints on your soul and it blinks back at you.
Rolling his shoulders to release the tension in his body Bucky sighs.
The psycho-physiologic process takes crucial steps and time to a satisfying mental health condition. Millennial babble for screwing your head back together.
It has a lot to do with reflection.
It works but sucks balls.
So, he watches silently, within plain sight, instead of skulking in the shadows.
He knows she is more than other dames. He can taste the energy that hums within her, triggering him. A sorceress, enchantress, elemental or witch. It stings him to the very marrow so sweetly, bewitching his mind and ensnaring his senses. A lesser man would falter, crumble against her natural defenses. It is dark and instructive. This speaks to caliber of her abilities. The very echo of her power rouses his blood. The potential violence if invoked, like an apex predator rubbing against his skin. Teasingly marking him. He welcomes this so eagerly, it is raw nature. It will not deter him from this need to claim, capture and keep. It entices him more.
To plant his seed deeply and take root.
To become the father of her children.
To be her possession.
He will be her shield and sword as she will be his treasured vassal.