#sassandscribbles

[sassandscribbles]

Finally picking up this series....

I've heard it's so good it's gonna ruin me....

Let's see what happens 👀

[sassandscribbles]

Is it just me or sometimes your brain is so stimulated that you can't fucking stop writing?

Is this like the opposite of writer's block?

Coz istg I'm a single idea away from starting yet another series

[sassandscribbles]

Chapter-1 : Nightmares and Visions

Summary : A dream of a silver armed man has been haunting your nights for quite some time now. But in the quest of finding a remedy for your nightmares, you end up getting lost to the tale of a silver armed knight who got lost in the woods. And now your mind yearns for an answer of yet another question. Is there more to the tale of the winter soldier than people see? Word Count : 5.5k

Series Masterlist

The dream came to you as it always did—not as dreams commonly arrive, in fragments and fancies, stitched together by the wandering mind—but whole and dreadful, like a memory long forgotten and yet never truly lost.

You found yourself standing in the middle of a forest without any recollection of how you reached there.

No fading image of your chamber.

No remembrance of closing your eyes on your silken pillows.

One moment there was nothing. And the next you knew, there was only the vast jungle around you.

The night hung over the world like a vast velvet mantle embroidered with cold stars. Pale moonlight sifted through the canopy above in thin silver shafts, illuminating the forest floor in scattered pools of ghostly radiance.

The trees towered around you, impossibly tall, their trunks smooth and pale as ivory, disappearing into the darkness overhead where their branches entwined like the arches of some forgotten cathedral.

But the environment of the forest was far from serene. It was ominous. Not a breath of wind stirred. Not a bird called. Not a leaf trembled.

The silence wasn't the kind that brought peace. It was the kind thay talked of the shadows that watched you from the bushes. It reeked of all the souls this forest swallowed that never found their way back.

The silence here possessed a peculiar quality, as though the wind itself were holding its breath.

Watching.

Waiting.

You stood motionless for a moment, your heart already beating faster than reason. Though the place was unknown to you, a terrible familiarity settled upon your shoulders like a cloak.

You knew this forest. Not from waking life. From this dream. Always this dream. It came to you late at night's when the day's stress had pulled you into a slumber but your consiousness knew something your brain didn't.

And that was how you found yourself in this forest every few days. Often sometimes. But always the same place. The same familiar surrounding.

The realization filled you with dread.

You turned slowly, searching for some sign of a path, a lantern, a road—anything that might lead you away from this place.

But there was no escaping this dream.

The trees stretched endlessly in every direction. An emerald sea of shadows and silver mist.

The air smelled of rain-damp earth and wild moss. Beneath your feet, the ground felt strangely soft, as though you trod upon layers of forgotten years. Memories.

There was a soft sound of water droplets swiftly dripping in distance. The sound faint but it echoed through the woods with unnatural clarity.

You wanted to run. But your feet would not obey. Some unseen thread seemed already to be drawing you forward into the darkness.

You took a reluctant step forward. Then another. The forest welcomed you. Or perhaps swallowed you. It had become difficult to distinguish between the two.

As you wandered deeper amongst the trees, the world assumed the strange and mutable quality that belongs only to dreams. Branches seemed to move when unobserved.

Shadows stretched and recoiled. Silver flowers bloomed between roots where moments before there had been none, their petals glowing faintly beneath the moonlight.

The deeper you ventured, the more the silence pressed upon your ears. Until it seemed a living thing.

Then, at last, You saw him. A figure standing amidst the trees. Your breath caught.

The man stood some distance ahead, his back turned toward you. Tall and broad-shouldered, clad in dark leather garments that seemed woven from shadow itself.

Moonlight touched only one part of him. His arm. Forged of silver metal. It gleamed amidst the darkness like a blade drawn beneath the stars.

Relief flooded you so swiftly it almost brought tears to your eyes. Another soul. Another living being.

You opened your mouth to call out. But before a word could escape your lips, the man began to walk forward. Slowly. Silently. Away from you.

As though he had expected your arrival.

As though he had always known you would follow.

And follow you did. Even though terror whispered against your heart. Even though some deeper instinct warned you to turn back. Still you followed.

The distance between you never changed.

No matter how swiftly you walked. No matter how often you tried to gain upon him. He remained ever just beyond reach. A phantom leading you deeper into the wilderness.

The forest transformed around you as you travelled. The trees grew older. Larger. Their roots burst from the earth like the bones of sleeping giants.

Silver mist gathered around your ankles, winding through the undergrowth in pale ribbons. Moonlight clung to the stranger as though drawn to him.

The darkness itself seemed reluctant to touch him. Yet it concealed his face. Always his face. You strained to glimpse it.

Each time he turned his head, shadows shifted to veil his features. You saw only fragments. The line of a jaw. The fall of dark hair. The faint outline of misty blue eyes hidden beneath darkness.

Just enough to know he's real but never enough to recognise him. An ache stirred within you. A strange sorrow. An impossible yearning.

As if you wished to know him.

As if somewhere, long before memory, your soul had once recognized his.

The thought filled you with unease. The dripping sound grew louder. Closer.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

The rhythm echoed through the forest like the ticking of some ancient clock counting down to an unseen moment.

The mist thickened. The trees thinned. And suddenly the woodland ended.

You emerged at the banks of a river. It lay before you like a ribbon of liquid silver stretching into eternity.

The water reflected the moonlight so perfectly that it appeared not a river but a pathway through the stars themselves.

The surface was utterly still. Not a ripple disturbed it. Not a breath of wind touched it.

The sight was beautiful. And dreadful. For you knew what came next. The stranger stopped at the river's edge.

For the first time since you had seen him, he stopped moving.

The world seemed to grow quieter still. The stars above shone brighter. The mist curled around your feet.

And slowly the man turned. Your pulse thundered within your ears. At last. At last you would see him.

Moonlight spilled across his features. The shadows began to withdraw. You saw the outline of a face. Strong. Familiar. Beautiful in some melancholy and distant fashion you couldn't quiet recognise.

Your breath caught. Something within you cried out in relief.

But before understanding could come, the world erupted in silver light. A wind swept across the river. The stars trembled. The stranger's form blurred.

Moonlight shone brighter into your eyes, nearly blinding you. You stumbled bbackwad, clising your eyes on instict to shield them from harsh silver light.

Beyond your vision themetal arm flashed like molten silver. His body grew larger.

Bones shifted beneath skin. Darkness gave way to radiance.

And when the light behan to settle enough for you to open your eyes, your breath stopped.

Becuase where a man had stood, there now stood a wolf.

A creature of such grandeur that no earthly beast could compare. Its fur was white as untouched snow under winter moonlight. Silver gleamed amongst the thick mantle of its coat.

Its eyes shone with an intelligence both ancient and sorrowful. They fixed upon you. And in that gaze there existed something that chilled you far more deeply than fear.

Recognition.

The wolf knew you. It had always known you. It stepped forward. Once. The river began to stir. The stars above seemed to fracture.

A thousand points of silver light falling from heaven like shattered glass.

The wolf continued to gaze at you. Not with hunger. Not with malice. But with longing. An unbearable longing.

Then came the whisper. Not spoken aloud. Not heard by the ears. Felt. Deep within your heart.

A voice carried upon memory. Upon fate. Upon something older than either.

You strained to hear. To understand.

One word. Only one word.

But before you could hear the message, the wolf lunged forward.

The river shattered.

The stars vanished.

And you woke up with a sharp gasp that violently tore itself from your throat.

You jolted upright in your bedchamber, trembling and hyperventilating.

Moonlight streamed through the high arched windows of the royal apartments, spilling across marble floors and embroidered tapestries. The familiar sight should have comforted you.

It did not.

Your heart pounded violently against your ribs. Your skin was damp with cold sweat.

For several moments you could barely even breathe.

The dream lingered around you like mist. You could still smell the forest. Still see the silver river. Still feel the weight of those sorrowful eyes fixed upon your own.

With shaking hands, you drew the blankets closer around your shoulders and looked toward the moonlit window.

Beyond it lay your kingdom.

Peaceful.

Safe.

Real.

Yet none of it eased the dreadful certainty settling once more within your chest. For this was no ordinary nightmare. It had haunted you since childhood.

Always the same forest.

Always the same river.

Always the same stranger with the silver arm.

Always the same white wolf.

And every time, just before understanding arrived, you woke up.

As if some unseen force refused to let the dream reveal its final secret.

Yet with every passing year, the certainty grew stronger. The dream grew clearer as if you were just moments from breakthrough. But the veil om the mysterious man's face would not lift no matter how hard you yearned for it.

And with growing certaintyn you realised that the dream was not foretelling your doom. It was waiting. Waiting for something. Waiting for someone.

And somewhere beyond the safety of your castle walls, beneath the same moon that shone through your chamber window, you could not rid yourself of the terrible feeling that the wolf was waiting too.

Maybe for a memory to arrive. For the right moment. For whatever hidden truth that was yet to uncover.

And when the wait was over, you would finally find out the one thing you have spent years living in mystery of.

That all this time, the dream you have been encompassed in, was that dream really a nightmare or a vision?

Dawn arrived pale and grey.

Not with the glorious blaze of gold that court poets so loved to write of, but softly, timidly, filtering through the towering windows of your chambers in thin ribbons of silver light.

You had not slept again after waking from the dream. Every time your eyes had begun to drift closed, you had seen them. The wolf's eyes. Silver. Ancient. Agonised.

Even now, seated before the ginormous gilded mirror whilst half a dozen maids moved busily around you, your thoughts remained trapped beside that impossible river.

You barely noticed the brush gliding through your hair.

Barely noticed the gown being laced around your waist.

Voices drifted through the room like distant echoes. Far away. Unimportant.

"Your Highness, lift your arm." You obeyed automatically. A sleeve was adjusted.

Someone fastened a bracelet around your wrist. Another maid fussed with pearls.

You stared at your own reflection. A princess gazed back. Perfectly groomed. Perfectly dressed. Perfectly miserable.

Dark circles lingered under your eyes despite every effort to conceal them.

Your expression appeared distant. Haunted.

You looked as if part of you still wandered in that dreadful forest.

"Your Highness?"

No response.

"Your Highness?"

Still nothing.

The maid exchanged a glance with another. A third cleared her throat.

You continued staring, lost to the memory of the forest, the river, the man, the wolf. When a sharp pinch on your shoulder startled you violently.

You nearly jumped from your seat. "Ow!"

The culprit smiled innocently.

Natasha.

Unlike the other maids, Natasha had never been particularly intimidated by royalty. Perhaps because the two of you had grown up together. Perhaps because she had little fear of anything. Or perhaps because Natasha simply enjoyed causing trouble.

Natasha's mother had been the head maid of the castle for years. After her passing when Nat was merely an adolescent, you found friendship in each other on the basis of shared grief that was the lack of motherhood in your lives.

So perhaps she was a maid. But she was more of a friend to you than anyone related to you by blood had ever been.

She stood behind your chair now with her arms folded. One eyebrow arched. “Why do you look like your husband has gone to war"

You frowned, diverting the topic. "That hurt."

"It was meant to."

"You pinched me."

"You were somewhere beyond the veil entirely."

You rubbed your shoulder. "I was not."

Natasha's stare was unimpressed. "You have been sitting here for nearly ten minutes whilst Lady Marta braided the same section of your hair three separate times because you keep forgetting to hold still."

She took over lady Marta from where she was doing your hair and attempting it on her own knowing the way you preferred it, like an elder sister.

“And your eyes have dark circles under them. You look like a widow who hasn't slept in days. So before I take on my other methods to pry information out of you, you better tell me what's wrong.”

You glanced around at the people in your room. Knowing that you couldn't possibly pour your heart out when half a dozen maids were listening.

Natasha, picking up on your concer, dismissed the other maids with a glance. "Give us a moment."

The women curtsied and quietly departed, grateful to escape whatever mood had settled over their princess.

The chamber doors closed followed by silence. Natasha pulled a stool beside you and sat. Expression softening immediately. "What happened?"

You looked away. But nothing escaped Natasha. Nothing ever had.

"You look frightened."

You swallowed. For a long moment you said nothing. Then quietly, choosing to surrender yourself worries to the only person your heart found dear in this lonely place, you confessed, "The dream came again."

Natasha's expression shifted instantly. Gone was the teasing smile. Gone was the amusement.

The recurring nightmare was something she knew well. For years she had listened to your accounts of it. For years she had watched it grow steadily worse.

"The same one?” She asked and you nodded in return.

"Tell me about it."

You began speaking.

Slowly at first.

Then faster.

As the memories resurfaced.

You described the woods.

The mist.

The dripping sound.

The silver river.

You described following the stranger deeper and deeper into the darkness.

How close he had seemed. How impossible it had been to see his face. Natasha listened silently. Until you reached the part about the metal arm.

When you told her about it, she froze. The reaction was so abrupt that you noticed immediately.

"What?"

She didn't answer. Eyes narrowing in something you recognised as reminiscence.

"What?"

"The arm," she said carefully.

You frowned. "What about it?"

"You never mentioned it before."

"I have."

"No." She shook her head.

"You said there was silver light shining on a silver armor. Never a metal arm.”

You thought for a moment. Realizing she was correct. You had never seen it clearly before. Only now. Only this time.

"The moonlight hit it differently this time," you murmured. "I could see it."

Natasha looked distinctly uncomfortable. A rare thing. Knowing her, you knew there were only a few things that could bother her. She was never the one to fret easily.

Which is what made unease prickle down your spine.

"Natasha?"

She leaned back slightly. "Describe it."

"The metal arm?"

"Yes."

“It was silver. Plates of metal carved into it in a way that made it look weapon-like. It looked heavy and luminous in the moonlight and it stretched from his shoulder down to his fingers.”

She stared out the window. Expression unreadable.

"Nat?"

Finally she spoke. Voice grim and unwavering. "The man in your dream sounds like the Winter Soldier."

Your brkws furrowed in confusion. "The Winter Soldier?"

She nodded. Leaning back on the stool slightly adjusting herself indicating that this was going to be a long conversation. "Most believe it is a fairy tale."

Something cold settled in your stomach almost immediately at the way she said it. So serious.

The maid leaned forward. Lowering her voice instinctively despite the empty room. "When I was little, my grandmother used to tell stories about him."

You rolled your eyes despite the pique in your interest "A nursemaid's tale."

"Perhaps."

Natasha folded her hands. "But people have been telling the tale for centuries."

The seriousness in her voice made you listen despite yourself. "The story says there was once a man who belonged to no kingdom."

Outside the windows, bells rang faintly somewhere in the castle. Inside the chamber, the morning seemed suddenly darker.

"They say he was a warrior." Natasha's voice had become almost storyteller-like. "The greatest warrior who ever lived."

"A prince?" you asked.

"A king?"

She shook her head.

"Neither."

"Then what?"

"No one knows."

The answer somehow felt worse. "Some say he was a knight. Some say a beast of a man. The oldest versions say he came from the North."

Her gaze drifted toward the distant mountains visible beyond the city. "The frozen lands beyond the world's edge."

"The lands nobody can cross?" You had heard stories. Stories of the vast mountains in the north that were surrounded by grasslands and plains and forests so deep that most of the explorers that went in, never came back out.

"So the stories claim." Natasha continued. "They say after a particularly gruesome battle, he possessed an arm of enchanted silver forged by ancient magic."

You stared. The story holding roots in your mind. Natasha noticed. Her expression darkened further.

"The arm could not break, could not age, could not die."

Your hands tightened in your lap. "That's ridiculous."

"It is a legend."

"You believe it?"

"No." The answer came too quickly. You narrowed your eyes.

Natasha sighed. "Not entirely."

A long silence followed before you finally asked, "What happened to him?" The question escaped before you could stop it.

Natasha hesitated. "As with every old tale, that depends on who is telling it."

"Tell me your grandmother's version."

Something strange flickered across Natasha's face. Reluctance. Almost fear. "The Winter Soldier fell in love."

You blinked. That was not what you had expected. "Love?"

She nodded. "With a princess of the dragon's land."

Your stomach dropped.

Natasha noticed your expression. "I know."

"That's absurd."

"It gets worse."

You wished she hadn't said that. "Some say the princess died. Some say she got cursed. Ny grandmothet said she got lost in time. "

The room felt colder. "The Winter Soldier went mad with grief." Natasha's voice had softened. "He wandered the forests searching for her. The rivers. The mountains. The old magic took pity upon him."

A chill crawled along your spine. "And?"

"It transformed him."

You already knew the answer before she spoke. You knew. "The Winter Soldier became a white wolf."

Silence crashed into the room. Your pulse thundered. Natasha watched your face carefully. "That's impossible."

"It is a story."

"It sounds exactly like my dream."

"I know."

The words emerged almost as a whisper. Neither of you spoke for several moments. Outside, the castle continued awakening. Servants moved through corridors. Bells rang. Life carried on.

Yet inside the chamber everything felt strangely suspended. As though the dream had followed you into daylight.

Finally you managed to ask "What happened to the princess?"

Natasha's expression grew thoughtful. "The legends disagree. Most say she was lost forever."

A pause.

"But some versions say she was reborn."

The room seemed to tilt slightly. "And the wolf?"

Natasha looked directly at you. "They say he still waits."

A shiver raced through you. "Waits for what?"

Natasha held your gaze. "For her to find her way back to him."

Neither of you spoke after that. Outside, sunlight finally began creeping across the palace towers.

Yet for the first time in your life, the dream no longer felt like a nightmare. And that frightened you far more than the nightmare ever had.

And after a moment, as if Natasha's words hadn't already caused you enough anguish, she spoke again “But that's not what worries me”

“Huh?” You tore yourself away from trying to find a common thread between your dream and the story.

“The version my mother told me before her passing and the version that the old castle walls still whisper, goes like this—” she swallowed, “The winter soldier was a knight, captured in a war after his confidante betrayed him.”

“Some say he was cursed after that for losing the war. Some say he went insane. Some say he was killed. But the tale that the city whispers tells that he's here”

“Here?” You were shocked and frightened all at once.

“Yes. The legends say he's kept in the darkest dungeon of the castle. Where no daylight finds him. That he's a monster the commanders are still trying to tame.”

Your mind swiveled around the information. The sudden knowledge regarding the dream after sheer lack of it for years made your head spin.

The wolf. The knight. The monster.

And the princess…..

As the stories slowly settled themsleves into your brain. You realised with concerning clarity that there was undoubtedly a connection between your dream and Nat's stories.

And the only missing piece of puzzle stalling you from seeing the whole picture was hiding somewhere in the castle and somehow you were willing to cross all royal boundaries laid out for a princess to follow to uncover the mystery of this dream that has haunted you all yoyr life.

Curiosity, you would later discover, was a far more dangerous thing than fear.

Fear warned.

Fear protected.

Fear told sensible people to remain within the safety of their chambers and forget foolish stories.

Curiosity, however, whispered. It lingered and planted seeds. And once planted, those seeds grew.

All throughout the day Natasha's tale haunted you.

The Winter Soldier.

The white wolf.

The lost princess.

The silver arm.

You told yourself repeatedly that it was merely a legend. A nursemaid's tale polished and reshaped through centuries of retelling. Yet every time you closed your eyes, you saw the same dream.

The forest.

The river.

The man.

And now, for the first time, you had a name to place upon him. The Winter Soldier.

The name followed you like a shadow. At supper, you barely tasted the food. At council meetings, you heard none of the discussions. Evening arrived. Then night.

And still the thought remained.

You found yourself sitting upright in bed. Staring at the door.

Thinking.

Wondering.

The oldest part of the castle. The forbidden dungeons beneath the palace. The place servants whispered about when they believed nobody was listening. The place nobody visited. The place where, according to legend, the monster was kept.

Curiosity had always been your greatest weakness.

Your tutors called it intelligence.

Your father called it stubbornness.

Natasha called it a complete lack of self-preservation.

Tonight, all three descriptions felt accurate.

Because by the time midnight arrived, you had already made your decision. A terrible and foolish and an utterly irresistible decision.

The palace had fallen into slumber by midnight.

Moonlight spilled through stained glass windows and across silent corridors. Torches burned low within their iron brackets, casting long shadows that stretched over stone walls.

Wrapped in a dark travelling cloak, you slipped quietly from your chambers. The hood concealed your face. Your slippers made almost no sound upon the stone floors.

Natasha would kill you if she discovered what you were doing. You almost smiled at the thought, momentarily forgetting how nervous you felt.

The timing had been carefully chosen. You knew the castle's routines well. The changing of the guard's shifts occurred shortly after midnight.

A brief period of confusion. A brief lapse in vigilance. Just enough time for somwone to slip through the gaps if they knew the castle well enough.

And you? Well you had grown up in this very place. No matter how hard it tries, a home cannot have secrets from the person that lives in it.

Which is how you knew. You knew where the main entryway of the dungeon was and how to slip through the cracks.

And years spent escaping lessons and avoiding unwanted etiquette tutors had made you surprisingly skilled at sneaking through your own home.

You moved through servants' passages and forgotten corridors known only to those raised within the palace walls.

Down staircases.

Through narrow archways.

Past shuttered windows.

The deeper you travelled, the older the castle became. The elegant marble halls of the royal wing gave way to rough-hewn stone.

Ancient stone. Stone that had stood for centuries before your kingdom had even possessed a crown.

The air grew colder. The walls damp. The silence heavier.

Soon you reached the lower levels. The dungeons.

A pair of guards stood outside the main entrance.

Exactly as expected. One group departing. Another arriving.

For several moments attention shifted between reports and keys and routine exchanges. You slipped past unnoticed amongst the confusion. Your heart hammered violently.

You nearly expected someone to shout. To grab your shoulder. To demand an explanation. Nobody did.

The iron door closed behind you with a low groan. And suddenly you were alone.

The dungeon stretched before you.

Dark.

Cold.

Silent.

Rows of cells lined the walls. Most stood empty. Those that were occupied housed only thieves and debtors sleeping fitfully upon straw mattresses.

You continued deeper downward. The stories claimed the Winter Soldier was not kept amongst ordinary prisoners. That he was imprisoned far beneath them.

Where light could not reach. Where monsters belonged.

You discovered, to your growing unease, that the stories were true. A second staircase waited at the far end of the dungeon. Hidden behind an iron gate.

You stared.

Nobody had ever mentioned this. The stairs descended into darkness. Far deeper than any dungeon should. A chill crawled over your skin. Every sensible instinct urged you to turn back. You descended anyway.

The staircase seemed endless. The torchlight grew dimmer. The air colder. The stone beneath your fingers older. Older than the castle itself.

At last the stairs ended. And you found yourself standing in a place that stole the breath from your lungs.

This was no dungeon. Not truly. It resembled a cathedral buried beneath the earth.

A vast circular chamber carved directly into black stone. Ancient pillars rose toward a ceiling lost in darkness.

Here no torches burned.

Instead, pale blue crystals embedded within the walls cast a cold ghostly light.

Strange symbols had been carved into every surface. Symbols you did not recognize. Silver chains stretched between pillars.

Hundreds of them.

The floor itself appeared engraved with enormous patterns that spiraled outward from the center of the room.

Magic. Ancient magic.

You knew it immediately. The sort of magic spoken of only in legends. The sort that no longer existed. Or so everyone claimed.

At the heart of the chamber stood a single cell made entirely of iron.

The bars gleamed faintly in the darkness. As though illuminated by moonlight that somehow found its way underground. Your stomach tightened.

This wasn't a regukar cell. This was a prison built solely for whoever dwelt within. The cell was enormous.

Circular. The walls carved directly into black stone. Silver runes covered every inch. Chains thicker than your arm hung from the ceiling.

Whatever occupied that cage was not merely imprisoned. It was contained. Like something dangerous. Something feared. A monster.

The Winter Soldier.

You swallowed, stepping closer. Expecting fangs and claws and snarling beast inside the slammer.

But what laid captive inside wasn't a beast. Wasn't a monster.

It was a man.

Bound gainst the far wall. You could see the jagged lines of reinforcement on the iron chains binding both his arms to the wall telling the tale of how the thin chains were melted into making the humongous shackles binding the man.

His arm, the same silver metal you saw in your dreams. Every impossible gleam. Every plate of silver. Every single ridge and carving.

Your heartbeat echoed through the vast chamber.

The man within the cell remained motionless. Head bowed. Dark hair obscuring his face.

For one terrible moment you thought he might be dead. Then he moved. Only slightly. A shift of breathing. Your pulse stumbled.

No.

No, that was impossible. Dreams did not become reality. Legends did not sit imprisoned beneath castles.

Yet there it was. There he was. The man from the forest. The man from the river. The man whose face the dream had never allowed you to see.

Slowly. The prisoner lifted his head. Your heart stopped beating entirely. The movement revealed his face. And the world seemed to tilt beneath your feet.

Because you knew him. Not from court. Not from childhood. Not from life.

From the dream.

It was him. The man from the forest. The man you had followed through moonlit woods countless times. The face hidden by shadows. The face you had never quite been allowed to see.

Until now.

Grey-blue eyes met yours. The same eyes from the dream. Only human. And infinitely sadder

For one suspended moment, neither of you moved. The vast underground chamber seemed to hold its breath. The silver bars between you no longer felt important.

Neither did the chains. Neither did the ancient magic carved into the floor.

There was only his face. And those eyes. Those impossible eyes.

You had seen them before. Not here. Not in waking life. But beside a silver river beneath falling stars. The realization sent a chill through every part of you.

He knew you.

You knew he did. The shock written across his features mirrored your own. His lips parted slightly, as though a hundred questions had risen to the surface all at once.

As though he wished to say something.

Perhaps your name.

Perhaps something far older.

Then suddenly, a sound echoed through the staircase beyond.

Voices. Distant at first but growing louder quickly.

Your blood turned to ice. Guards. The changing patrol.

The prisoner heard them too. His expression changed immediately. Not fear. Urgency.

His gaze snapped toward the stairwell before returning to you. For the first time since you had arrived, he stepped forward. Or tried to. As the movement was abrupt enough to make the silver chains surrounding the cell tremble faintly.

"They're coming—” His voice was rough from disuse. Deep and very much human.

The first words you had ever heard him speak.

But the sound of another door opening echoed from above. Closer now. Far too close. Panic surged through you.

If they found you here, if anyone discovered the princess wandering forbidden dungeons in the middle of the night…….You didn't dare imagine the consequences.

The prisoner looked as though he wanted to say more. You wanted him to say more. You wanted answers.

Who was he?

Why did he look at you like he knew you?

Why had he appeared in your dreams for years?

Why did your heart ache merely looking at him?

Yet there was no time.nThe voices grew louder. Footsteps followed. You took a hurried step backward. Then another.

His gaze followed you. The sadness that flashed across his face struck you with surprising force. As though he had just lost something precious.

Again.

You didn't understand why that expression hurt so much. But it did. It hurt terribly. For a brief moment neither of you looked away.

Then you turned and fled.

The ancient chamber slowly vanished behind you. Your cloak billowed around your ankles as you hurried up the endless staircase.

Your pulse thundered in your ears. Your thoughts chased one another in frantic circles. The Winter Soldier wasn't a monster. He wasn't some beast hidden beneath the castle. He wasn't a legend.

He was a man. A lonely man. A captive man. And somehow, the man from your dreams.

The thought refused to leave you. Even after you slipped through the upper dungeon. Even after you passed unnoticed through the shifting guards. Even after the iron doors closed behind you.

Your mind remained far below the castle.

In the silver cell. With him. Lost entirely in your thoughts, you rounded a corner too quickly.

And collided directly into someone. A startled gasp escaped you. Strong hands immediately caught your shoulders before you could stumble.

"My lady." The familiar voice shattered your thoughts.

You froze, slowly lifting your gaze.

Your fiancée tood before you.

Brock Rumlow.

“What are doing in this part of the palace at this hour?”

Dividers by @/uzmacchiato

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[sassandscribbles]

hey girl! have you released the hydra princess x bucky fanfic yet?

I'm still working on the first chapter, babe.

It'll be out in a few hours ❤️

Would you like to be tagged when it comes out?

[sassandscribbles]

Just casually thinking about a dark story....

You being under hypnosis and working for a secret hydra-like society for human experimentation and Bucky funding out his sweet little thing has a dark secret and now he doesn't know whether to save you or end you for the hypnosis to be over

Am I adding this to my wips??

Hell yeah!!!

When will this be out??

Well, about that......

[sassandscribbles]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💜

Thank you for this lovely ask veni 💙 and thank you for the tag @buckysgirlll ❤️

I'd say my most cherished fic is definitely let me love you a moment more, its the last of it after all

And the time i drunkenly wrote letters to my boss and all hell broke loose

The bruises you can't see is also up there

And love, socks and pickle juice....gosh I had so much fun writing that one

Also midnight rain. That series is literally my baby.

Passing on the love to @imnotjustreadingg-volume-two @emmathefanficgal @phoenix-in-writing @singulartoast @erina00 @eterna1reverie @buckysdecaflove @love-stucky @buckybsdoll

[sassandscribbles]

Guess who threw up about 7 times today and was stuck with a glucose bottle the whole day thinking she was down with food poisoning due to eating way too much ice cream but now she's laying in bed shivering from fever and has realised its actually a heat stroke

Yeah.....not me 👀

I'm so ready for this summer to be over 😩

[sassandscribbles]

Mine

Pairing : Winter soldier x Reader

Summary : The winter soldier visits you late at night. And only wants one thing.

Warnings : 18+ MDNI, smut, Pinv, PwP, open ending.

Word Count : 300

June Jukebox Scribbles Masterlist

“I'm gonna make her mine, all mine” Bucky whines into your neck. Breath heaving as he ploughs into your cunt.

Your fingers trace their way downward from his shoulders, leaving marks down the span of his massive back, moaning as his hips snap forward faster “James—”

“You would like that, wouldn't you?” He continues, voice rough from hours of exhaustion and and from pleasure. “Want me to stay here forever? Buried so deep you'd never know what it's like to not have me inside.”

You nod, eyes rolling back with ecstacy as his fingers comes up to tease your clit with a flick of his thumb and forefinger before leaving abruptly and finding your hands.

He pushes one of your palms on your abdomen making you feel him move under your hand “Feel that, baby. That's me right there”

His fingers continue their ministrations on your clit and your back arches, hips lifting up to meet his thrusts.

He watches your breasts bounce as you move. Licking his lips he leans down, taking a nipple in his mouth and biting softly.

The tinge of pain soothed immediately by his soft wet tongue goes straight to your pussy and the moan that leaves you is loud and unfiltered.

“I'm never letting you leave now, baby” he murmurs around your chest. Mouth not leaving you for a second.

But you know better than to indulge in his fantasy.

You know better. You know that the guards would arrive soon and he'd be taken into his cell yet again.

And you will have nothing but loneliness until they decided the winter soldier needed to be tamed again.

Dividers by @diviniyae

Tag list : @redstarleftarm, @sweetserendipity65, @sambuckystony, @nymphhbabiee, @darlingdenise, @venigrantrogers, @i-gotta-go-so-much-bigger, @bstan01, @phoenix-in-writing, @singulartoast, @danerb67, @onyx8514, @globetrotter28, @buckysdecaflove, @alyssinwunderland-blog-blog, @herejustforbuckybarnes, @v33mustdie, @star-yawnznn, @buckybsdoll

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