𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐓 ＴＡＬＥＳ ＯＦ ＷＡＲ

beginners luck ✫ j.b.b.

IT'S ONE OF those days again.
Steve always chases chaos and trouble, as he used to chase you in your little garden when he came over as a kid.
Despite the fact that he hasn't seem to grown much since these days, he had changed a lot, always wanting to prove himself, a lot more when Bucky was near him.
He felt like he needed to show you and himself that he could be just as strong as the brunette, which always concluded in him being beaten up, dragged somewhere, or simply just leaving him bruised afterwards.

And now you are searching for him again, after hearing about the gossip in your neighboorhood that the little Rogers had been into a fight with the Ruckett brothers for the fifth time in the last few weeks.
Sighing, you make your way through the streets, not finding him anywhere.
You start to get worried.
What if something bad, something terrible happened to him this time?
After another hour of trying to trace him down, you decide to go to a bar where you know you will find his best friend, James Buchanan Barnes, the soldier Steve so badly wanted to be.

You quickly rush into the sticky room, the air full of smoke, loud music making the old walls tremble.
As soon as you set one foot through the door, a few men begin to watch your every step, a few whistling and calling for you with disgusting nicknames.
There is only one man in the entire world you allow to call you things like these, and right now, you are searching for him.
You don't want to admit it, but deep down you know that you are head over heels for the blue-eyed Sergeant.

»James!«, you yell, seeing him sitting at the bar, talking to some blonde, luring the poor girl into his sweet presence, »There you are!«

Both James and the pretty girl turn their heads towards you, her eying you with a jealous look as the handsome man approaches you and gives you a quick peck on the cheek, nearly making you blush.
Nearly.

»How'd ya get lost in here, pretty gal?«, he coos into your ear, his voice thick with his Brooklyn accent, making you roll your eyes.

»Stop your games«, you cut him off, attempting to push him away from you, but he doesn't move one bit, taking even one step closer to you, »This is serious!«

»This is serious as well, love«, he keeps on hitting on you, while you try to ignore the warm feeling in your belly and slap him across the face.
He doesn't even flinch, just keeps on smiling at you.

»Steve's gone missing, you douchebag! Aren't you worried at all?!«, you whisper-yell at him, but he shows no reaction besides the witty grin.

»I'm rather worried about you, doll«, he purrs, sliding his arms around your waist and pulling you closer to his chest, »You seem stressed out, relax.«

»Don't tell me what to do, James!«, you snap, but don't push him away, just point at him with your finger, making him grin even more.
He slowly traces his fingers along your jaw, not even listening to you, just admiring your breathtaking facial features.
He just can't control himself when he's with you or around you.
Every time he makes a fool out of himself.
But you seem to dig it.
Not openly, but he can see how your body responds to his touch.
With goosebumps, with gazes, with fluttering eyelids, with tiny, quiet gasps that drive him insane, nearly over the edge.
Everytime you say his name, in anger, in annoyance, in madness, he quietly begged you to say it in love, affection or lust.
And he gives his everything to reach that goal one day.

»My bad, honey«, he says chuckling and you scoff, turning your head away from his, exposing your right ear for him to whisper in, »Maybe you tell me what you want me to do to you?«

You inhale some of the smoky air, trying to regain some kind of control over your body, but even he can sense how hot your skin is and how shallow you breathe.