imaginedreamwrite
imaginedreamwrite
Imagine, Dream, Write
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imaginedreamwrite · 11 minutes ago
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If You Love Her: Part 8
It had been three hours since you’d both arrived at the party, and Bucky had been kept away from you by his mom with every attempt possible, from meeting old friends to his mom’s friends to help set up some games. He kept his eyes on you as much as possible, watching you interact with his sisters and his nieces and nephews. The ease of slowly settling into you was a relief for him; it was good to see you relaxing and having fun at a regular party with ordinary people.
You looked beautiful, ethereal, with tiny giggles leaving your lips and the stain from Becca’s cupcakes on your lips. Despite your best efforts to get it off, there was some stuck on the corner of your lips that Bucky wanted so desperately to kiss away.
“Why did you bring her here?” The harshly hissed words were taken by the side of the backyard, whispered into a private conversation.
“I brought her as my guest, ma-“
“She is your job!” Her eyebrows were furrowed, her silver-streaked brown hair was pulled away from her face, the wrinkles on her skin prominent from the displeased look on her face. “Bucky! She is your job! Would she not let you come without her? Is she trying to “
“God, mom!” He groaned and rolled his eyes. “No! I brought her here because I wanted her to meet you-“
“James Buchanan Barnes!” She placed her hands on her hips and stared him down with disapproving eyes and a frown on her face. She was displeased that he brought you; that was the basest truth; the displeasure of him getting the ‘job’ back home was unexpected.
His mom didn’t know the truth. His mom didn’t know that you and Bucky had feelings for each other. His mom didn’t realize that the two of you were teetering on the edge of a relationship with few spoken words and the soft gender touches. His mom didn’t know that you weren’t just a job to Bucky; you were all he could think about.
“She is an heiress! She has more money in one bank account than all of us could ever have! And you bring her home to your nephew’s party like she has any idea-“
“Mrs. Barnes!” The conversation came to a screeching halt when a familiar voice called his mom’s name.
“You invited Sharon?” He hissed, crossing his arms over his chest. He turned his head and watched his tall, blonde ex-girlfriend moving through the crowd with a bouquet tucked into her arm and her blonde hair curled to frame her face.
“It’s been so long since you’ve seen each other, Bucky.” His mom’s frown was replaced with a broad smile and a certain spark in her eyes.
“We’ve been broken up for years, ma. Why would you invite her here?” His attention moved past Sharon to your image, his blue eyes studying you as you stood near his middle sister. The two of you were engaged in a conversation, a laugh leaving your lips, when one of his nephews went slamming into the back of your legs with a nerf gun that was almost bigger than he was.
“You were so good together.” His mom placed her hand on his arm and squeezed before she greets Sharon with a friendly and affectionate smile as she stopped before them.
“Thank you for inviting me,” Sharon hugged his mom and handed her the flowers, and then she glimpsed at Bucky. Her smile was slow-building; the little spark in her eyes stemmed from attraction and appreciation.
He once loved the way she looked at him. He once loved how she would place her hand on his arm or his chest and instantly soothe his worries or anxieties. He used to love the late-night conversations and early morning coffee with rum or Bailey’s.
Now, he had a taste for coconut rum and vanilla ice cream, coffee with overly sweet creamer that tasted like chocolate and marshmallows. He no longer wanted those late-night conversations about property taxes on homes they could buy together or responsibilities for people their age.
He no longer saw the blonde before him as the end all, as the final goal of his future.
Sharon no longer made him feel as if he was walking on air. Sharon hadn’t given him that feeling of inescapable desire that used to leave him breathless.
“Hi, Bucky,” Sharon greet him with a kiss on his cheek and a hug, the smell of her perfume burning his nose, her hands wrapped around him feeling like barbed wire, “how have you been?
“Working,” Bucky answered bluntly, his attention moving past Sharon to you.
You were no longer conversing with his sister or playing with his nephew. You were watching Bucky and Sharon with a frown on your face and your eyes slightly widened. Your hands were by your sides, your fingers twitching and pulling at the seams of your pants. You looked torn. You looked like your heart was in your hand beating, and however Bucky reacted, would be the difference between your heart getting crushed or held carefully.
“Your mom never mentioned you bringing the little princess along,” Sharon laugh and placed her hand on his shoulder.
“I didn’t know, Sharon.” His mom so quickly came to her defence. “I don’t know why he did.”
“Because she is-“
“Your job, Bucky. It is your job to be her bodyguard. It is your job to keep her safe, and for you to come to visit your family, you needed to bring her.” His mom rolled her eyes.
“You have no idea what the hell you’re talking about.” Bucky came to your defence, even against his mom. “Y/N is not some spoiled little rich kid-“
“That’s exactly what she is, Bucky.” Sharon looped her arm through his. “It’s nice you brought her here, but you don’t have to pretend-“
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Bucky pushed her arm off his, staring glaringly at Sharon first and then his mom. “You have no right to talk about her that way. Y/N is not some spoiled little rich kid. You have no idea the kind of person she is-“
“And you do? Shit, Bucky! You are her bodyguard! Are you sleeping with her too? Is that why you’re defending her so valiantly? Are you screwing her?” His mom reached for him; she reached for his hand.
“Oh, my fuck!” He threw his head back and groaned, his eyes screwed tight. “Fuck me! Are you shitting me right now? Is that what you think this is all about? You think I brought Y/N because I’m sleeping with her?”
“Bucky, maybe we should go talk-“ Sharon reached for his hand, another attempt to touch him again.
Bucky sidestepped her. He stepped away from them both.
“You still don’t approve of what I’m doing with my life. You didn’t want me to go into the army; you didn’t want me to have a career as a bodyguard. You don’t want me-“
“I want you to settle down, Bucky! You’re in your ‘30’s! It’s time to find a wife and start having kids-!”
“And you think I would choose Sharon?” He crossed his arms over his chest, his jaw ticking.
“You and Sharon had such chemistry. You were so good together.” His mom stood by her side; she chose Sharon.
“If we were so good together, then why’d she cheat on me while I was enlisted?” Bucky was going to be physically sick by what his mother was doing, by the way, she was talking about you.
“If you would’ve been there!-“
“You can’t be serious right now, ma! I was overseas fighting in the army! And you…Of course you’re blaming me for her cheating. Of course you wouldn’t dare blame Sharon fucking Carter-!”
The tension between the three was threatening to boil over. The pressure was threatening to spill and create a torrential storm that no one would recover from.
“Bucky!” Becca approached with haste, panic in her voice. “Y/N needs-“
The sound of camera shutters and the growing sound of questions from paparazzi hounding you had pulled him away. He turned his back to his mom and started stalking away from them both, his shoulders taut and rigid.
“Bucky!” His mom called after him. “This is why you shouldn’t have brought her here! Look what she did!”
Bucky stopped. His hands were balled into fists by his sides, and he turned his head to look back at the two women, one he would always love despite her efforts to control his decisions and the other he detested. “I have to wonder who let them in.”
He turned back and broke through the crowds. He came to your side and wrapped his arm around your shoulders while you were struggling to try and break through the paparazzi who found you, who were blinding you with the flash of their camera’s, nearly sending you into a panic attack as you grappled with their questions and their prodding.
“Back the hell up!” Bucky yelled, the intensity behind his voice making them part. He kept you close to him; he kept you guarded as he led you out of the backyard to the car parked at the end of the street. He saved you as protected from the cameras as he could, shielding you with his body as he opened the door and shuffled you in. He closed the door and ran around the front, hopping into the driver’s side as the cameras were still flashing.
“Bucky-“ he ignored your attempt to talk to him by starting the vehicle and throwing it into gear. He sped out of the parking spot he had and tore away from the house, leaving his mother and his ex-girlfriend standing on the driveway.
“Bucky-“ you tried again.
“Don’t,” his voice was clipped as he sped away, “don’t you dare try and apologize. You have nothing to apologize for, sweetheart. You did nothing wrong.”
When Bucky had slowed down, when he put enough distance between the house and yourselves, he slowed down and reached for your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles.
“I’m sorry,” Bucky lift the back of your hand to his lips and placed a soft kiss on your skin before he turned your hand over and placed another kiss on your palm, “that isn’t how I wanted it to go, princess.”
“You could…I could arrange to have Clint grab me. You could…go back.” You shift in your seat. “That blonde woman who kissed your cheek…she was pretty….”
“No,” Bucky’s answer was immediate, “I’m not going back. We’re not going back. We’re going to grab dinner, and then we’re going home. What’re you in the mood for, princess?”
There was silence in the vehicle, and then you answered slowly. “Cheesecake.”
“For dinner?” Bucky raised an eyebrow.
“My mom didn’t let me have a lot of rich dessert foods.” You hid your face in the right side of the passenger’s seat, embarrassed.
“Have you never had cheesecake?” Bucky asked while the underlying question of ‘what the hell was wrong with your mom’ was at the tip of his tongue.
“I’ve also never had a corn dog. I’ve never been to an amusement park.”
Bucky slammed on the breaks and pulled off to the side of the road. He stopped the car and shoved the gear into the park before he shifted in his seat and turned his way.
“What? What’s wrong?” You turned and glanced out the back window for any reason why he would’ve stopped. “Why are we stopped?”
“I should have your parents sued for child endangerment. What kind of parents doesn’t let their daughter go to the fair? Or have cheesecake? Or a fucking corn dog?” Bucky was in a state of disbelief.
“My parents.” you mumbled, embarrassment coming back full force, “I mean, Clint did his best to give me normalcy my parents didn’t allow, but the whole amusement park and fair foods, rich cheesecake stuff was forbidden. It was athleticism and scholarships and studying instead of having fun.”
“Change of plans,” Bucky put the car into drive and took off again, back to the city, “we’re not going home. I’m taking you to Coney Island.”
“Coney Island?” You frowned. “Why?”
“No one deserves to go through life without eating fair food and riding a roller coaster until they get sick.” Bucky reached for your hand and grabbed it again, holding it tightly.
“And cheesecake?” You bit your bottom lip.
Bucky laughed under his breath and shook his head. “Yeah, baby, and cheesecake.”
** **
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Permanent Tags List: @jennmurawski13 @swoopswishsward @marvelsangels @beardburnsupersoldiers @rvgrsbrns @captainchrisstan @stareyedplanet @fandom-basurero @awesomerextyphoon @glimmering-darling-dolly @daydreaminginthechaos @psychiccreationtaco @rayofdawnworld @connie326 @asgardlover75 @socalgem1124 @call-me-baby-gir1 @sleep-i-ness @tenaciousperfectionunknown @archy3001 @rebekahdawkins @supraveng @muralskins @megamieversole-blog @buckysgirl101 @xxchexchickxx @bookfrog242 @belovedcherry @thefridgeismybestie @bibliophilewednesday @old-enough-to-know-better73 @hoe-for-sukusa @linniep @jessyballet @lunarmoon8 @darlingkeiji @hotti3lamotti3 @valsworldofcreativity @thisuserlovesyouandyouandyou @otherglowcloud @loveitorleaveit20 @jemimah-b99 @ladydmalfoy @dpaccione @rainbowkisses31 @leyannrae @alexakeyloveloki @fanatic434 @mogaruke @dreamlessinparis
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imaginedreamwrite · 2 hours ago
Text
What’s next?
What update would you like?:
Alpha, May I?
Baby Girl
Hellfire
If You Love Her
Multiverse Marriage
The Auction
To All The Avengers I’ve Loved Before
Way Down We Go
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imaginedreamwrite · 2 hours ago
Text
Reblog for tags: @shebeastly98 @emmabarnes @ginger-swag-rapunzel @intothesoul @actuallyanita
If You Love Her: Part 8
It had been three hours since you’d both arrived at the party, and Bucky had been kept away from you by his mom with every attempt possible, from meeting old friends to his mom’s friends to help set up some games. He kept his eyes on you as much as possible, watching you interact with his sisters and his nieces and nephews. The ease of slowly settling into you was a relief for him; it was good to see you relaxing and having fun at a regular party with ordinary people.
You looked beautiful, ethereal, with tiny giggles leaving your lips and the stain from Becca’s cupcakes on your lips. Despite your best efforts to get it off, there was some stuck on the corner of your lips that Bucky wanted so desperately to kiss away.
“Why did you bring her here?” The harshly hissed words were taken by the side of the backyard, whispered into a private conversation.
“I brought her as my guest, ma-“
“She is your job!” Her eyebrows were furrowed, her silver-streaked brown hair was pulled away from her face, the wrinkles on her skin prominent from the displeased look on her face. “Bucky! She is your job! Would she not let you come without her? Is she trying to “
“God, mom!” He groaned and rolled his eyes. “No! I brought her here because I wanted her to meet you-“
“James Buchanan Barnes!” She placed her hands on her hips and stared him down with disapproving eyes and a frown on her face. She was displeased that he brought you; that was the basest truth; the displeasure of him getting the ‘job’ back home was unexpected.
His mom didn’t know the truth. His mom didn’t know that you and Bucky had feelings for each other. His mom didn’t realize that the two of you were teetering on the edge of a relationship with few spoken words and the soft gender touches. His mom didn’t know that you weren’t just a job to Bucky; you were all he could think about.
“She is an heiress! She has more money in one bank account than all of us could ever have! And you bring her home to your nephew’s party like she has any idea-“
“Mrs. Barnes!” The conversation came to a screeching halt when a familiar voice called his mom’s name.
“You invited Sharon?” He hissed, crossing his arms over his chest. He turned his head and watched his tall, blonde ex-girlfriend moving through the crowd with a bouquet tucked into her arm and her blonde hair curled to frame her face.
“It’s been so long since you’ve seen each other, Bucky.” His mom’s frown was replaced with a broad smile and a certain spark in her eyes.
“We’ve been broken up for years, ma. Why would you invite her here?” His attention moved past Sharon to your image, his blue eyes studying you as you stood near his middle sister. The two of you were engaged in a conversation, a laugh leaving your lips, when one of his nephews went slamming into the back of your legs with a nerf gun that was almost bigger than he was.
“You were so good together.” His mom placed her hand on his arm and squeezed before she greets Sharon with a friendly and affectionate smile as she stopped before them.
“Thank you for inviting me,” Sharon hugged his mom and handed her the flowers, and then she glimpsed at Bucky. Her smile was slow-building; the little spark in her eyes stemmed from attraction and appreciation.
He once loved the way she looked at him. He once loved how she would place her hand on his arm or his chest and instantly soothe his worries or anxieties. He used to love the late-night conversations and early morning coffee with rum or Bailey’s.
Now, he had a taste for coconut rum and vanilla ice cream, coffee with overly sweet creamer that tasted like chocolate and marshmallows. He no longer wanted those late-night conversations about property taxes on homes they could buy together or responsibilities for people their age.
He no longer saw the blonde before him to end all of beautiful and his future.
Sharon no longer made him feel as if he was walking on air. Sharon hadn’t given him that feeling of inescapable desire that used to leave him breathless.
“Hi, Bucky,” Sharon greet him with a kiss on his cheek and a hug, the smell of her perfume burning his nose, her hands wrapped around him feeling like barbed wire, “how have you been?
“Working,” Bucky answered bluntly, his attention moving past Sharon to you.
You were no longer conversing with his sister or playing with his nephew. You were watching Bucky and Sharon with a frown on your face and your eyes slightly widened. Your hands were by your sides, your fingers twitching and pulling at the seams of your pants. You looked torn. You looked like your heart was in your hand beating, and however, Bucky reacted it would be the difference between getting crushed or held carefully.
“Your mom never mentioned you bringing the little princess along,” Sharon laugh and placed her hand on his shoulder.
“I didn’t know, Sharon.” His mom so quickly came to her defence. “I don’t know why he did.”
“Because she is-“
“Your job, Bucky. It is your job to be her bodyguard. It is your job to keep her safe, and for you to come to visit your family, you needed to bring her.” His mom rolled her eyes.
“You have no idea what the hell you’re talking about.” Bucky came to your defence, even against his mom. “Y/N is not some spoiled little rich kid-“
“That’s exactly what she is, Bucky.” Sharon looped her arm through his. “It’s nice you brought her here, but you don’t have to pretend-“
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Bucky pushed her arm off his, staring glaringly at Sharon first and then his mom. “You have no right to talk about her that way. Y/N is not some spoiled little rich kid. You have no idea the kind of person she is-“
“And you do? Shit, Bucky! You are her bodyguard! Are you sleeping with her too? Is that why you’re defending her so valiantly? Are you screwing her?” His mom reached for him; she reached for his hand.
“Oh, my fuck!” He threw his head back and groaned, his eyes screwed tight. “Fuck me! Are you shitting me right now? Is that what you think this is all about? You think I brought Y/N because I’m sleeping with her?”
“Bucky, maybe we should go talk-“ Sharon reached for his hand, another attempt to touch him again.
Bucky sidestepped her. He stepped away from them both.
“You still don’t approve of what I’m doing with my life. You didn’t want me to go into the army; you didn’t want me to have a career as a bodyguard. You don’t want me-“
“I want you to settle down, Bucky! You’re in your ‘30’s! It’s time to find a wife and start having kids-!”
“And you think I would choose Sharon?” He crossed his arms over his chest, his jaw ticking.
“You and Sharon had such chemistry. You were so good together.” His mom stood by her side; she chose Sharon.
“If we were so good together, then why’d she cheat on me while I was enlisted?” Bucky was going to be physically sick by what his mother was doing, by the way, she was talking about you.
“If you would’ve been there!-“
“Of course you’re blaming me for her cheating. Of course you wouldn’t dare blame Sharon fucking Carter-!”
The tension between the three was threatening to boil over. The pressure was threatening to spill and create a torrential storm that no one would recover from.
“Bucky!” Becca approached with haste, panic in her voice. “Y/N needs-“
The sound of camera shutters and the growing sound of questions from paparazzi hounding you had pulled him away. He turned his back to his mom and started stalking away from them both, his shoulders taut and rigid.
“Bucky!” His mom called after him. “This is why you shouldn’t have brought her here! Look what she did!”
Bucky stopped. His hands were balled into fists by his sides, and he turned his head to look back at the two women, one he would always love despite her efforts to control his decisions and the other he detested. “I have to wonder who let them in.”
He turned back and broke through the crowds. He came to your side and wrapped his arm around your shoulders while you were struggling to try and break through the paparazzi who found you, who were blinding you with the flash of their camera’s, nearly sending you into a panic attack as you grappled with their questions and their prodding.
“Back the hell up!” Bucky yelled, the intensity behind his voice making them part. He kept you close to him; he kept you guarded as he led you out of the backyard to the car parked at the end of the street. He saved you as protected from the cameras as he could, shielding you with his body as he opened the door and shuffled you in. He closed the door and ran around the front, hopping into the driver’s side as the cameras were still flashing.
“Bucky-“ he ignored your attempt to talk to him by starting the vehicle and throwing it into gear. He sped out of the parking spot he had and tore away from the house, leaving his mother and his ex-girlfriend standing on the driveway.
“Bucky-“ you tried again.
“Don’t,” his voice was clipped as he sped away, “don’t you dare try and apologize. You have nothing to apologize for, sweetheart. You did nothing wrong.”
When Bucky had slowed down, when he put enough distance between the house and yourselves, he slowed down and reached for your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles.
“I’m sorry,” Bucky lift the back of your hand to his lips and placed a soft kiss on your skin before he turned your hand over and placed another kiss on your palm, “that isn’t how I wanted it to go, princess.”
“You could…I could arrange to have Clint grab me. You could…go back.” You shift in your seat. “That blonde woman who kissed your cheek…she was pretty….”
“No,” Bucky’s answer was immediate, “I’m not going back. We’re not going back. We’re going to grab dinner, and then we’re going home. What’re you in the mood for, princess?”
There was silence in the vehicle, and then you answered slowly. “Cheesecake.”
“For dinner?” Bucky raised an eyebrow.
“My mom didn’t let me have a lot of rich dessert foods.” You hid your face in the right side of the passenger’s seat, embarrassed.
“Have you never had cheesecake?” Bucky asked while the underlying question of ‘what the hell was wrong with your mom’ was at the tip of his tongue.
“I’ve also never had a corn dog. I’ve never been to an amusement park.”
Bucky slammed on the breaks and pulled off to the side of the road. He stopped the car and shoved the gear into the park before he shifted in his seat and turned his way.
“What? What’s wrong?” You turned and glanced out the back window for any reason why he would’ve stopped. “Why are we stopped?”
“I should have your parents sued for child endangerment. What kind of parents doesn’t let their daughter go to the fair? Or have cheesecake? Or a fucking corn dog?” Bucky was in a state of disbelief.
“My parents.” you mumbled, embarrassment coming back full force, “I mean, Clint did his best to give me normalcy my parents didn’t allow, but the whole amusement park and fair foods, rich cheesecake stuff was forbidden. It was athleticism and scholarships and studying instead of having fun.”
“Change of plans,” Bucky put the car into drive and took off again, back to the city, “we’re not going home. I’m taking you to Coney Island.”
“Coney Island?” You frowned. “Why?”
“No one deserves to go through life without eating fair food and riding a roller coaster until they get sick.” Bucky reached for your hand and grabbed it again, holding it tightly.
“And cheesecake?” You bit your bottom lip.
Bucky laughed under his breath and shook his head. “Yeah, baby, and cheesecake.”
** **
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Permanent Tags List: @jennmurawski13 @swoopswishsward @marvelsangels @beardburnsupersoldiers @rvgrsbrns @captainchrisstan @stareyedplanet @fandom-basurero @awesomerextyphoon @glimmering-darling-dolly @daydreaminginthechaos @psychiccreationtaco @rayofdawnworld @connie326 @asgardlover75 @socalgem1124 @call-me-baby-gir1 @sleep-i-ness @tenaciousperfectionunknown @archy3001 @rebekahdawkins @supraveng @muralskins @megamieversole-blog @buckysgirl101 @xxchexchickxx @bookfrog242 @belovedcherry @thefridgeismybestie @bibliophilewednesday @old-enough-to-know-better73 @hoe-for-sukusa @linniep @jessyballet @lunarmoon8 @darlingkeiji @hotti3lamotti3 @valsworldofcreativity @thisuserlovesyouandyouandyou @otherglowcloud @loveitorleaveit20 @jemimah-b99 @ladydmalfoy @dpaccione @rainbowkisses31 @leyannrae @alexakeyloveloki @fanatic434 @mogaruke @dreamlessinparis
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imaginedreamwrite · 2 hours ago
Text
If You Love Her: Part 8
It had been three hours since you’d both arrived at the party, and Bucky had been kept away from you by his mom with every attempt possible, from meeting old friends to his mom’s friends to help set up some games. He kept his eyes on you as much as possible, watching you interact with his sisters and his nieces and nephews. The ease of slowly settling into you was a relief for him; it was good to see you relaxing and having fun at a regular party with ordinary people.
You looked beautiful, ethereal, with tiny giggles leaving your lips and the stain from Becca’s cupcakes on your lips. Despite your best efforts to get it off, there was some stuck on the corner of your lips that Bucky wanted so desperately to kiss away.
“Why did you bring her here?” The harshly hissed words were taken by the side of the backyard, whispered into a private conversation.
“I brought her as my guest, ma-“
“She is your job!” Her eyebrows were furrowed, her silver-streaked brown hair was pulled away from her face, the wrinkles on her skin prominent from the displeased look on her face. “Bucky! She is your job! Would she not let you come without her? Is she trying to “
“God, mom!” He groaned and rolled his eyes. “No! I brought her here because I wanted her to meet you-“
“James Buchanan Barnes!” She placed her hands on her hips and stared him down with disapproving eyes and a frown on her face. She was displeased that he brought you; that was the basest truth; the displeasure of him getting the ‘job’ back home was unexpected.
His mom didn’t know the truth. His mom didn’t know that you and Bucky had feelings for each other. His mom didn’t realize that the two of you were teetering on the edge of a relationship with few spoken words and the soft gender touches. His mom didn’t know that you weren’t just a job to Bucky; you were all he could think about.
“She is an heiress! She has more money in one bank account than all of us could ever have! And you bring her home to your nephew’s party like she has any idea-“
“Mrs. Barnes!” The conversation came to a screeching halt when a familiar voice called his mom’s name.
“You invited Sharon?” He hissed, crossing his arms over his chest. He turned his head and watched his tall, blonde ex-girlfriend moving through the crowd with a bouquet tucked into her arm and her blonde hair curled to frame her face.
“It’s been so long since you’ve seen each other, Bucky.” His mom’s frown was replaced with a broad smile and a certain spark in her eyes.
“We’ve been broken up for years, ma. Why would you invite her here?” His attention moved past Sharon to your image, his blue eyes studying you as you stood near his middle sister. The two of you were engaged in a conversation, a laugh leaving your lips, when one of his nephews went slamming into the back of your legs with a nerf gun that was almost bigger than he was.
“You were so good together.” His mom placed her hand on his arm and squeezed before she greets Sharon with a friendly and affectionate smile as she stopped before them.
“Thank you for inviting me,” Sharon hugged his mom and handed her the flowers, and then she glimpsed at Bucky. Her smile was slow-building; the little spark in her eyes stemmed from attraction and appreciation.
He once loved the way she looked at him. He once loved how she would place her hand on his arm or his chest and instantly soothe his worries or anxieties. He used to love the late-night conversations and early morning coffee with rum or Bailey’s.
Now, he had a taste for coconut rum and vanilla ice cream, coffee with overly sweet creamer that tasted like chocolate and marshmallows. He no longer wanted those late-night conversations about property taxes on homes they could buy together or responsibilities for people their age.
He no longer saw the blonde before him as the end all, as the final goal of his future.
Sharon no longer made him feel as if he was walking on air. Sharon hadn’t given him that feeling of inescapable desire that used to leave him breathless.
“Hi, Bucky,” Sharon greet him with a kiss on his cheek and a hug, the smell of her perfume burning his nose, her hands wrapped around him feeling like barbed wire, “how have you been?
“Working,” Bucky answered bluntly, his attention moving past Sharon to you.
You were no longer conversing with his sister or playing with his nephew. You were watching Bucky and Sharon with a frown on your face and your eyes slightly widened. Your hands were by your sides, your fingers twitching and pulling at the seams of your pants. You looked torn. You looked like your heart was in your hand beating, and however Bucky reacted, would be the difference between your heart getting crushed or held carefully.
“Your mom never mentioned you bringing the little princess along,” Sharon laugh and placed her hand on his shoulder.
“I didn’t know, Sharon.” His mom so quickly came to her defence. “I don’t know why he did.”
“Because she is-“
“Your job, Bucky. It is your job to be her bodyguard. It is your job to keep her safe, and for you to come to visit your family, you needed to bring her.” His mom rolled her eyes.
“You have no idea what the hell you’re talking about.” Bucky came to your defence, even against his mom. “Y/N is not some spoiled little rich kid-“
“That’s exactly what she is, Bucky.” Sharon looped her arm through his. “It’s nice you brought her here, but you don’t have to pretend-“
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Bucky pushed her arm off his, staring glaringly at Sharon first and then his mom. “You have no right to talk about her that way. Y/N is not some spoiled little rich kid. You have no idea the kind of person she is-“
“And you do? Shit, Bucky! You are her bodyguard! Are you sleeping with her too? Is that why you’re defending her so valiantly? Are you screwing her?” His mom reached for him; she reached for his hand.
“Oh, my fuck!” He threw his head back and groaned, his eyes screwed tight. “Fuck me! Are you shitting me right now? Is that what you think this is all about? You think I brought Y/N because I’m sleeping with her?”
“Bucky, maybe we should go talk-“ Sharon reached for his hand, another attempt to touch him again.
Bucky sidestepped her. He stepped away from them both.
“You still don’t approve of what I’m doing with my life. You didn’t want me to go into the army; you didn’t want me to have a career as a bodyguard. You don’t want me-“
“I want you to settle down, Bucky! You’re in your ‘30’s! It’s time to find a wife and start having kids-!”
“And you think I would choose Sharon?” He crossed his arms over his chest, his jaw ticking.
“You and Sharon had such chemistry. You were so good together.” His mom stood by her side; she chose Sharon.
“If we were so good together, then why’d she cheat on me while I was enlisted?” Bucky was going to be physically sick by what his mother was doing, by the way, she was talking about you.
“If you would’ve been there!-“
“You can’t be serious right now, ma! I was overseas fighting in the army! And you…Of course you’re blaming me for her cheating. Of course you wouldn’t dare blame Sharon fucking Carter-!”
The tension between the three was threatening to boil over. The pressure was threatening to spill and create a torrential storm that no one would recover from.
“Bucky!” Becca approached with haste, panic in her voice. “Y/N needs-“
The sound of camera shutters and the growing sound of questions from paparazzi hounding you had pulled him away. He turned his back to his mom and started stalking away from them both, his shoulders taut and rigid.
“Bucky!” His mom called after him. “This is why you shouldn’t have brought her here! Look what she did!”
Bucky stopped. His hands were balled into fists by his sides, and he turned his head to look back at the two women, one he would always love despite her efforts to control his decisions and the other he detested. “I have to wonder who let them in.”
He turned back and broke through the crowds. He came to your side and wrapped his arm around your shoulders while you were struggling to try and break through the paparazzi who found you, who were blinding you with the flash of their camera’s, nearly sending you into a panic attack as you grappled with their questions and their prodding.
“Back the hell up!” Bucky yelled, the intensity behind his voice making them part. He kept you close to him; he kept you guarded as he led you out of the backyard to the car parked at the end of the street. He saved you as protected from the cameras as he could, shielding you with his body as he opened the door and shuffled you in. He closed the door and ran around the front, hopping into the driver’s side as the cameras were still flashing.
“Bucky-“ he ignored your attempt to talk to him by starting the vehicle and throwing it into gear. He sped out of the parking spot he had and tore away from the house, leaving his mother and his ex-girlfriend standing on the driveway.
“Bucky-“ you tried again.
“Don’t,” his voice was clipped as he sped away, “don’t you dare try and apologize. You have nothing to apologize for, sweetheart. You did nothing wrong.”
When Bucky had slowed down, when he put enough distance between the house and yourselves, he slowed down and reached for your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles.
“I’m sorry,” Bucky lift the back of your hand to his lips and placed a soft kiss on your skin before he turned your hand over and placed another kiss on your palm, “that isn’t how I wanted it to go, princess.”
“You could…I could arrange to have Clint grab me. You could…go back.” You shift in your seat. “That blonde woman who kissed your cheek…she was pretty….”
“No,” Bucky’s answer was immediate, “I’m not going back. We’re not going back. We’re going to grab dinner, and then we’re going home. What’re you in the mood for, princess?”
There was silence in the vehicle, and then you answered slowly. “Cheesecake.”
“For dinner?” Bucky raised an eyebrow.
“My mom didn’t let me have a lot of rich dessert foods.” You hid your face in the right side of the passenger’s seat, embarrassed.
“Have you never had cheesecake?” Bucky asked while the underlying question of ‘what the hell was wrong with your mom’ was at the tip of his tongue.
“I’ve also never had a corn dog. I’ve never been to an amusement park.”
Bucky slammed on the breaks and pulled off to the side of the road. He stopped the car and shoved the gear into the park before he shifted in his seat and turned his way.
“What? What’s wrong?” You turned and glanced out the back window for any reason why he would’ve stopped. “Why are we stopped?”
“I should have your parents sued for child endangerment. What kind of parents doesn’t let their daughter go to the fair? Or have cheesecake? Or a fucking corn dog?” Bucky was in a state of disbelief.
“My parents.” you mumbled, embarrassment coming back full force, “I mean, Clint did his best to give me normalcy my parents didn’t allow, but the whole amusement park and fair foods, rich cheesecake stuff was forbidden. It was athleticism and scholarships and studying instead of having fun.”
“Change of plans,” Bucky put the car into drive and took off again, back to the city, “we’re not going home. I’m taking you to Coney Island.”
“Coney Island?” You frowned. “Why?”
“No one deserves to go through life without eating fair food and riding a roller coaster until they get sick.” Bucky reached for your hand and grabbed it again, holding it tightly.
“And cheesecake?” You bit your bottom lip.
Bucky laughed under his breath and shook his head. “Yeah, baby, and cheesecake.”
** **
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imaginedreamwrite · 5 hours ago
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What update would you like?:
Alpha, May I?
Baby Girl
Hellfire
If You Love Her
Multiverse Marriage
The Auction
To All The Avengers I’ve Loved Before
Way Down We Go
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imaginedreamwrite · 5 hours ago
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Alpha, May I?
Part Two
** **
The drive to the Thrombey mansion was slow going, and given all the vehicles parked outside, all the Thrombey/Drsydale’s had crawled out of their holes to be here. Including Hugh, with his shiny little beemer that looked like a tin can with the top skewed off.
With Hugh having his beemer, you recognized the mustang Joni insisted on driving, the SUV for Walt and his wife snd their little nazi son, and the Escalade Linda and her husband drove. The small cluster of vehicles was parked haphazardly as you parked near the grass. When you slid the automatic level from drive to park and had turned off your car and tucked the keys into your pocket, you exited your car. You stood by the driver’s side of the car and studied the family through the window in the mansion, watching them linger in their air of sophistication and high class that turned your nose and your stomach.
You had to take deep breaths and ease the slight souring of your stomach that told you something amiss was on the near horizon. Your senses as an omega were sharpened and heightened to the mixing of scents, the alpha’s and beta’s, that cling heavily in the air. They must’ve gotten here movements before you did, or maybe you were just hyper-aware of the fact that among them all, housekeepers alike, there were only two omega’s, and you were one of them.
Linda, Ransom, Walt, we’re all alphas. Jodi, Meg, Walt’s wife and Linda’s husband were all beta’s.
Jacob was a little shit.
“Y/N!” Meg called your name from the front door, waving her hand for you to come over, “we’re waiting for you!”
You let go of your car door and crossed the grass, the small flat heels of your boots digging into the lawn as you walked from the safety of your car to the clutches of the vultures tucked in the mansion.
“Hey Meg,” you greet her before wiping your boots on the rug at the front entrance, “you didn’t have to wait.”
“Grandad insisted,” she closed the door behind you and brushed past you, her scent billeting past you as she moved into the living room nearest the front entrance. She joined her mom, but not before shooting a glare toward Jacob.
“Good morning, Y/N.” the polite and somewhat courteous greetings were standard, the blasé way they made an effort to make you feel seen without being seen.
“Do you have any idea why we’re here?” Walt stood and walked with his cane thudding against the carpet and the hardwood floor as he moved toward you. “Did he say anything..?”
He was an alpha, and yet his scent was burning your nose; it was aggravating. It was stale and acrid, and you didn’t want it anywhere near you. He was married, he was mated, yet his scent was…driving. It was as if he was no longer satisfied with what he had; there was a streak of selfishness that was tainting his scent.
“No,” you exhaled sharply, your insides twisting when Hugh’s eyes landed on you, “I hadn’t heard anything.”
You pressed yourself back against the wooden staircase, your fingers gripping the wood. Your fingertips were running along the grooves in the wood, your eyes cast to the side as Hugh studied you with the sole purpose of watching you squirm. You usually wouldn’t have been so bothered by him, by any of him, but there was too much going on. Their scents were spiking, all of them. Every one of them was radiating like a thick fog, and it was making your head spin.
But no more than Hugh’s. He was the alpha whose scent was coming through the fog; his scent was the most distinguished through the haze, through the mist that carried.
“We’re ready for you in here,” a man dressed in a fine suit stepped out from the hallway, directing your attention to one of the study’s, “he wants to see the omega first.”
All eyes were on you. All eyes were glued to you as you spun on your heels and stalked toward the office toward the comfort that Harlan extended. You enjoyed Harlan’s company, even his mother’s company was more suitable than the rest of them.
“Harlan,” you slipped into the office, ignoring the lawyers setting up their files on the desk, “this has to do with your grand plan?”
He smiled at you from his place on one of the armchairs. His leg was crossed over the other, and he waved you over to the matching set, wishing to have a conversation with you before everything began. You took his request and sat on the armchair, though you pulled your feet up and tucked them under yourself. You fiddled with the seam of your sweater, tucking it into your palm and squeezing.
“You seem nervous,” Harlan commented, judging by the way you were sitting and the tightness in your shoulders.
“You are brilliant, Harlan. You have a talent for writing crime novels and mysteries, and I’m never sure what to expect from you.” You smiled small, your stomach still wrapped in a tight coil. “But whatever you’re planning-“
“It will throw them all off their game,” Harlan nods his head, “it is about time it had. They’ve been comfortable for too long.”
His plan had to do with you. It had to do with one of the only omega’s in the room.
You were not a pushover. You were an omega, but you were not a pushover. You would not cower and cater to any alpha who looked your way for the sole purpose of having someone to fuck and finger before discarding to the wind.
You were an omega, but you were strong in your convictions and hadn’t allowed yourself to be toyed with by an alpha looking for a quick lay.
You dug your heels in and doubled down on your efforts to find a suppressant that would not only make your scent as an omega come across as unappealing but also suppress your heats and limit them to insignificance.
You were an omega who would not allow yourself to be bossed around by any ordinary alpha simply because they wanted to control you. You were an omega with a strong mind and a more robust constitution.
Harlan Thrombey called you alpha in omega’s clothing, an apparent compliment if you had ever heard one. As an alpha himself, who had married and mated with an omega like yourself, one who wasn’t part of the norm, he admired your tenacity and strength.
“You’ve got a kind heart, Y/N.” Harlan flourished his compliments of your nature, of your goodness, along with that fire that wasn’t so typical of your ‘class.’
“I like taking care of people who deserve it.” You clarified, giving him the medication he needed for the morning. “But I will not be some alpha’s plaything. My mother raised me to have more respect for myself.”
You supposed it was your fault then. You thought you had no one to blame but yourself for the events that pushed you toward the most significant problematic alpha you’d ever come across.
Maybe it was your stubbornness and your innate drive not to be saddled to an alpha who would treat you like a fuck toy that made Harlan do what he did.
“It’ll be good for you and good for Ransom.” He spoke in the late hours of the night before you left after completing your duties to him and his mother.
“What are you planning, Harlan?” You questioned with hesitancy, afraid of what his game plan was.
“My grandson needs to get his head out of his ass,” Harlan settled into his study, watching you gather your medical bag.
“Is that possible?” You joked. “Hugh has his head shoved so far up his ass; he’s become his own puppet master.”
Harlan was your friend and your employer. He wanted a friend, someone to talk to that hadn’t belonged to his leeching family. He had made a reputation for himself and built an empire that created a safety net for his family. In turn, they had become spoiled and entitled.
Jodi stole 400,000 from Harlan over four years.
Linda and her husband were living on Harlan’s dime while providing Hugh with an income without having to lift a finger.
His son was trying to defy his father’s wishes and expand his books into territories that Harlan was not pleased with.
They were all leeches, by Harlan’s own words, and he blamed himself. He wanted to give them tools to survive in the real world, and all he had done was make them entitled.
“Would you do me a favour, Y/N?” He asked that late night, his hand clutching yours with a burden, unspoken, weighing him down. “Do you trust me?”
“Of course, Harlan,” you thought of him as your family, as your surrogate grandfather, seeing as your own family had long since gone. “You’re my family.”
“You trust me?” He asked a second time; his persistence should’ve been a sign to dig deeper, “you know I have your best interests at hand-“
“Harlan,” you interrupted him, “I trust you. You’re one of the only alpha’s who hadn’t done me wrong. Of course, I trust you.”
“We’re ready for you all,” the announcement was made, and the Thrombey/Drysdale’s made their way into the study to hear the announcement.
You kept your eyes off of them; you’re kept your gaze set upon the studs that were hammered into the study chairs for decoration. You studied them; you ran your fingers over the detailing of the armchairs, ignoring the heated stare of Hugh. He was staring at you with this smirk on his face, and his blue eyes narrowed slightly. As the only omega in the room, he was trying to intimidate you with his presence, with his stare. If there weren’t so many different scents mixing in the room, the staleness and acridness of some that soured your stomach, and others that cut right through you, you would’ve cursed him out. You would’ve thrown your steely glare his way, but as it stood, you couldn’t have if you tried.
It was your fault; looking back at the warning signs you were given, you could’ve prevented this.
“Before we all get started, I would like to inform you that the reading of Harlan Thrombey’s Will has already been enacted into reality, is notarized and has gone through the lawful proceedings and will be immediate upon the last read word.” The lawyer spoke before he unfolded the letter.
The entire family was hopeful; you could see it in their eyes, in their eager stares. They were waiting for the news of their inheritance, of their rightful riches.
“This will be good for you,” Harlan mumbled, squeezing your hand, “you just need to trust me.”
“In the reading of the will created within the confines of the law, within sound mind, body, and soul, Harlan Thrombey-“ the lawyer took a pause and raised his head, his eyes zeroing in on Harlan, who gave him one quick nod.
“-Harlan Thrombey will therefore be awarding his publishing rights, the houses, his 60 million dollar fortune, the rights to all of his written works to….” There was a moment’s silence before he continued.
“…Y/N L/N…” the lawyer looked at you standing at the back of the room. “…and Ransom Drysdale under a set of circumstances surrounding a mating between the two parties, that if forfeited, will result in all assets and rights to fall to the rightful ownership under Y/N L/N. The act is immediate, and all possessions and rights upon the reading of the will, are henceforth and….”
Your head snapped up; your wide eyes landed on Harlan. Your breath caught in your throat, and the churning of your stomach became a torrential hurricane that pushed the acid of your stomach up into your throat.
“Are you out of your god damn mind?!” You felt his presence, his anger rolling off him in thick, dense waves. Ransom Drysdale, the alpha you would be bound to unless he is willing to lose his fortune.
“Do you trust me?” Harlan’s voice echoed in your head. “I have your best interests at hand-“
Ransom Drysdale was in your best interest?
You flew from the chair and hurried out of the room, your hand covering your mouth as the threat of getting physically sick was thrust upon you. You ripped the door open and stumbled out, your knees colliding with the stone path as you threw your head over the flower beds and eliminated your stomach contents into the leafy green and the vibrant petals. Your whole body shook as the acid crawled up your throat and emptied into the dirt and the grass.
“You little bitch-!” Walter, maybe Richard, cursed you.
“Back the hell off!” Meg screeched at them, rushing to your side to hold your hair back. “You’re okay? Are you okay?”
Harlan. Harlan Thrombey left everything to you.
Immediate possession of every right.
Hugh would only get his inheritance if you were mated.
To Hugh Ransom Drysdale, no less.
“He’s out of his god damn mind if he thinks we are going to sit here and let this happen!”
“Mom!” Meg whipped her head around with one hand smoothing down your back and the other holding your hair. “Grandad said it’s done. It’s gone through the courts. It’s legal.”
“Legal! Meg-“
“You’re okay, sweetheart.” Linda was to your right. “You’re going to be okay.”
You sensed them all except Hugh. He was gone.
He was gone with gravel spitting off his tires as his tin can Beemer sped out of the driveway.
** **
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imaginedreamwrite · 5 hours ago
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Hellfire: Part 1
The announcement that Father Pierce was going to be retiring and a replacement had already been found. Father Pierce was moving north to be with his wife and grandchildren, and his replacement was coming straight from New York City to take over the congregation’s responsibilities. It wasn’t long for rumours to start circulating and swirling.
The rumours started with Father Pierce’s replacement being young. The relief was a man from Brooklyn, who was leagues younger than Father Pierce and was not single but was actively looking for the woman that would lead him into family life to go hand in hand with being a protestant priest.
The rumour that he was single and looking for a wife had sent the mothers of unmarried daughters, both younger, legally so, and older, into a flurry of frantic appointments to hair salons and the boutiques in the nearest city to get the best clothes to impress the newest arrival to your small town.
He hadn’t even arrived in the town yet, and the city was a buzz. He was due to reach the last week of May, the long weekend would come and go, and he would be there on Monday, ready to settle into the house he had bought on private land in the country. It was a small town, and while he wanted privacy and requested living out of town on a piece of land to give him such, everyone in the city knew exactly where he would be living.
Your parents were equally excited; they were equally eager to see what direction the new Father would take the Protestant Church in your town, to see what new influence he would bring to the city.
Only time would tell, but where there was eagerness for the majority of those in your small town, there was annoyance and indifference in you.
You didn’t care; you didn’t begin to care. His arrival wouldn’t have changed or caused a ripple in your world.
** **
The sun was bearing down on the earth with vicious intensity, heating the sand before the lake and the grass that extended into the tree line snd beyond. It was the first weekend of June, and he has been here for a week, just settling into the small town in the middle of nowhere, still untouched by the corporate rat race of the city or the bitterness that turned neighbour against neighbour.
This town was his calling, and so was the congregation he would be serving, the people he would be steering toward God.
Before he had taken over the church, before he had taken over for Pierce, he was given a few weeks to get to know the people he would be serving, the people who would be his flock. The town was celebrating his arrival with a trip to the surrounding lakes for a weekend, where there were cabins the church-owned and used for weekend getaways and teen camps in the summer.
That is where he would get a good look and feel at who he would be helping. He had been invited snd given the biggest cabin on the property, with the building intended for a large family. One day Steve would fill the cabin the in summers with his wife and his kids, his family would fill the cabin walls with love.
For now, it was himself. For now, it was himself being hounded and introduced to every available and single woman in the church who had attended the camp, by eager mothers wishing their daughter upon a man of God like himself.
The women were beautiful and the mothers were a little overbearing in their attempts to get Steve to connect with them, to find himself attracted to them, but there was nothing.
Until he caught sight of you.
You were gilded, appearing as a being cast in the sunshine. The light reflecting on your image spoke to him like a direct call from God. He had been here but a week, met countless women who were eligible and available to him to pursue a relationship with, and he had never felt like he got a clear message. Until he saw your image until he saw you approach one of the food tents with your hair pulled up off your neck and shoulders and a pair of aviator sunglasses on your head.
It was like a direct hit to everything he had ever wanted, everything he had ever been promised.
He hadn’t met everyone in his congregation. He hadn’t met all the young women and men in the town, but when he had the chance to, you would be at the top of his list.
His eyes were gravitating toward you, his lips pursed. How could someone so innocent and lovely allow themselves to be looked up to by young men like they were a piece of meat?
“Do your parents know you’re out here?” One of the older residents asked the young woman, her judgemental eyes cast upon the short, tight jean shorts that have hugged your hips and cupped your asscheeks.
“My parents,” you rolled your eyes and crossed your arms over your chest, pushing your breasts up to the point that they were almost spilling out, “are busy with their ‘bible study.”
He was enraptured by this young woman, the beauty that defied all. The fire transported him in your spirit, and the curves that made all the sinful men and boys around you drool at your exposed skin.
‘A shame,’ he thought. ‘You need to be protected from the world by a firm hand, by a man of God.’
“Y/N dear, should you be wearing that?” The old lady scolded you.
‘Yes,’ Steve agrees, ‘you shouldn’t be wearing exposing clothing for anyone but your husband.’
“You really should save your innocence-“
“My innocence is still intact, Mrs. Humphrey.” You rolled your eyes again and lifted the drink to your lips, the bottle disguised as an innocent drink, but he knew better.
‘You need a firm hand,’ Steve thought to himself, picturing every way that a man like him could straighten out a woman like you, ‘and a firm spanking.’
“Be sure to tell your parents-“
“Whatever.” You rolled your eyes and turned your back, leaving the woman who was speaking to you, and the man you didn’t know was watching you.
“Someone needs to straighten that girl out, Father Rogers.” The woman addressed him, pointedly staring at you with narrowed eyes. “And a few prayers.”
He would be the one. He would be the one to settle you. He was going to the one to place his firm hand upon your body.
You were going to be his little wife. You were going to be his pretty little woman.
God told him. You belonged to him.
First, he had to meet your parents and work his magic on them.
** **
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imaginedreamwrite · 14 hours ago
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Reblog for tags: @candy-and-writing @jjpogueprincess @deputy-videogamer @teddy-bearbaby @thatgirly81 @thoughtsofaredhead-blog @readermia @fairybnha3 @anonym4235 @mandiiblanche @milacolibri
Hellfire: Part 1
The announcement that Father Pierce was going to be retiring and a replacement had already been found. Father Pierce was moving north to be with his wife and grandchildren, and his replacement was coming straight from New York City to take over the congregation’s responsibilities. It wasn’t long for rumours to start circulating and swirling.
The rumours started with Father Pierce’s replacement being young. The relief was a man from Brooklyn, who was leagues younger than Father Pierce and was not single but was actively looking for the woman that would lead him into family life to go hand in hand with being a catholic priest.
The rumour that he was single and looking for a wife had sent the mothers of unmarried daughters, both younger, legally so, and older, into a flurry of frantic appointments to hair salons and the boutiques in the nearest city to get the best clothes to impress the newest arrival to your small town.
He hadn’t even arrived in the town yet, and the city was a buzz. He was due to reach the last week of May, the long weekend would come and go, and he would be there on Monday, ready to settle into the house he had bought on private land in the country. It was a small town, and while he wanted privacy and requested living out of town on a piece of land to give him such, everyone in the city knew exactly where he would be living.
Your parents were equally excited; they were equally eager to see what direction the new Father would take the Catholic Church in your town, to see what new influence he would bring to the city.
Only time would tell, but where there was eagerness for the majority of those in your small town, there was annoyance and indifference in you.
You didn’t care; you didn’t begin to care. His arrival wouldn’t have changed or caused a ripple in your world.
** **
The sun was bearing down on the earth with vicious intensity, heating the sand before the lake and the grass that extended into the tree line snd beyond. It was the first weekend of June, and he has been here for a week, just settling into the small town in the middle of nowhere, still untouched by the corporate rat race of the city or the bitterness that turned neighbour against neighbour.
This town was his calling, and so was the congregation he would be serving, the people he would be steering toward God.
Before he had taken over the church, before he had taken over for Pierce, he was given a few weeks to get to know the people he would be serving, the people who would be his flock. The town was celebrating his arrival with a trip to the surrounding lakes for a weekend, where there were cabins the church-owned and used for weekend getaways and teen camps in the summer.
That is where he would get a good look and feel at who he would be helping. He had been invited snd given the biggest cabin on the property, with the building intended for a large family. One day Steve would fill the cabin the in summers with his wife and his kids, his family would fill the cabin walls with love.
For now, it was himself. For now, it was himself being hounded and introduced to every available and single woman in the church who had attended the camp, by eager mothers wishing their daughter upon a man of God like himself.
The women were beautiful and the mothers were a little overbearing in their attempts to get Steve to connect with them, to find himself attracted to them, but there was nothing.
Until he caught sight of you.
You were gilded, appearing as a being cast in the sunshine. The light reflecting on your image spoke to him like a direct call from God. He had been here but a week, met countless women who were eligible and available to him to pursue a relationship with, and he had never felt like he got a clear message. Until he saw your image until he saw you approach one of the food tents with your hair pulled up off your neck and shoulders and a pair of aviator sunglasses on your head.
It was like a direct hit to everything he had ever wanted, everything he had ever been promised.
He hadn’t met everyone in his congregation. He hadn’t met all the young women and men in the town, but when he had the chance to, you would be at the top of his list.
His eyes were gravitating toward you, his lips pursed. How could someone so innocent and lovely allow themselves to be looked up to by young men like they were a piece of meat?
“Do your parents know you’re out here?” One of the older residents asked the young woman, her judgemental eyes cast upon the short, tight jean shorts that have hugged your hips and cupped your asscheeks.
“My parents,” you rolled your eyes and crossed your arms over your chest, pushing your breasts up to the point that they were almost spilling out, “are busy with their ‘bible study.”
He was enraptured by this young woman, the beauty that defied all. The fire transported him in your spirit, and the curves that made all the sinful men and boys around you drool at your exposed skin.
‘A shame,’ he thought. ‘You need to be protected from the world by a firm hand, by a man of God.’
“Y/N dear, should you be wearing that?” The old lady scolded you.
‘Yes,’ Steve agrees, ‘you shouldn’t be wearing exposing clothing for anyone but your husband.’
“You really should save your innocence-“
“My innocence is still intact, Mrs. Humphrey.” You rolled your eyes again and lifted the drink to your lips, the bottle disguised as an innocent drink, but he knew better.
‘You need a firm hand,’ Steve thought to himself, picturing every way that a man like him could straighten out a woman like you, ‘and a firm spanking.’
“Be sure to tell your parents-“
“Whatever.” You rolled your eyes and turned your back, leaving the woman who was speaking to you, and the man you didn’t know was watching you.
“Someone needs to straighten that girl out, Father Rogers.” The woman addressed him, pointedly staring at you with narrowed eyes. “And a few prayers.”
He would be the one. He would be the one to settle you. He was going to the one to place his firm hand upon your body.
You were going to be his little wife. You were going to be his pretty little woman.
God told him. You belonged to him.
First, he had to meet your parents and work his magic on them.
** **
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imaginedreamwrite · 14 hours ago
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Hellfire: Part 1
The announcement that Father Pierce was going to be retiring and a replacement had already been found. Father Pierce was moving north to be with his wife and grandchildren, and his replacement was coming straight from New York City to take over the congregation’s responsibilities. It wasn’t long for rumours to start circulating and swirling.
The rumours started with Father Pierce’s replacement being young. The relief was a man from Brooklyn, who was leagues younger than Father Pierce and was not single but was actively looking for the woman that would lead him into family life to go hand in hand with being a protestant priest.
The rumour that he was single and looking for a wife had sent the mothers of unmarried daughters, both younger, legally so, and older, into a flurry of frantic appointments to hair salons and the boutiques in the nearest city to get the best clothes to impress the newest arrival to your small town.
He hadn’t even arrived in the town yet, and the city was a buzz. He was due to reach the last week of May, the long weekend would come and go, and he would be there on Monday, ready to settle into the house he had bought on private land in the country. It was a small town, and while he wanted privacy and requested living out of town on a piece of land to give him such, everyone in the city knew exactly where he would be living.
Your parents were equally excited; they were equally eager to see what direction the new Father would take the Protestant Church in your town, to see what new influence he would bring to the city.
Only time would tell, but where there was eagerness for the majority of those in your small town, there was annoyance and indifference in you.
You didn’t care; you didn’t begin to care. His arrival wouldn’t have changed or caused a ripple in your world.
** **
The sun was bearing down on the earth with vicious intensity, heating the sand before the lake and the grass that extended into the tree line snd beyond. It was the first weekend of June, and he has been here for a week, just settling into the small town in the middle of nowhere, still untouched by the corporate rat race of the city or the bitterness that turned neighbour against neighbour.
This town was his calling, and so was the congregation he would be serving, the people he would be steering toward God.
Before he had taken over the church, before he had taken over for Pierce, he was given a few weeks to get to know the people he would be serving, the people who would be his flock. The town was celebrating his arrival with a trip to the surrounding lakes for a weekend, where there were cabins the church-owned and used for weekend getaways and teen camps in the summer.
That is where he would get a good look and feel at who he would be helping. He had been invited snd given the biggest cabin on the property, with the building intended for a large family. One day Steve would fill the cabin the in summers with his wife and his kids, his family would fill the cabin walls with love.
For now, it was himself. For now, it was himself being hounded and introduced to every available and single woman in the church who had attended the camp, by eager mothers wishing their daughter upon a man of God like himself.
The women were beautiful and the mothers were a little overbearing in their attempts to get Steve to connect with them, to find himself attracted to them, but there was nothing.
Until he caught sight of you.
You were gilded, appearing as a being cast in the sunshine. The light reflecting on your image spoke to him like a direct call from God. He had been here but a week, met countless women who were eligible and available to him to pursue a relationship with, and he had never felt like he got a clear message. Until he saw your image until he saw you approach one of the food tents with your hair pulled up off your neck and shoulders and a pair of aviator sunglasses on your head.
It was like a direct hit to everything he had ever wanted, everything he had ever been promised.
He hadn’t met everyone in his congregation. He hadn’t met all the young women and men in the town, but when he had the chance to, you would be at the top of his list.
His eyes were gravitating toward you, his lips pursed. How could someone so innocent and lovely allow themselves to be looked up to by young men like they were a piece of meat?
“Do your parents know you’re out here?” One of the older residents asked the young woman, her judgemental eyes cast upon the short, tight jean shorts that have hugged your hips and cupped your asscheeks.
“My parents,” you rolled your eyes and crossed your arms over your chest, pushing your breasts up to the point that they were almost spilling out, “are busy with their ‘bible study.”
He was enraptured by this young woman, the beauty that defied all. The fire transported him in your spirit, and the curves that made all the sinful men and boys around you drool at your exposed skin.
‘A shame,’ he thought. ‘You need to be protected from the world by a firm hand, by a man of God.’
“Y/N dear, should you be wearing that?” The old lady scolded you.
‘Yes,’ Steve agrees, ‘you shouldn’t be wearing exposing clothing for anyone but your husband.’
“You really should save your innocence-“
“My innocence is still intact, Mrs. Humphrey.” You rolled your eyes again and lifted the drink to your lips, the bottle disguised as an innocent drink, but he knew better.
‘You need a firm hand,’ Steve thought to himself, picturing every way that a man like him could straighten out a woman like you, ‘and a firm spanking.’
“Be sure to tell your parents-“
“Whatever.” You rolled your eyes and turned your back, leaving the woman who was speaking to you, and the man you didn’t know was watching you.
“Someone needs to straighten that girl out, Father Rogers.” The woman addressed him, pointedly staring at you with narrowed eyes. “And a few prayers.”
He would be the one. He would be the one to settle you. He was going to the one to place his firm hand upon your body.
You were going to be his little wife. You were going to be his pretty little woman.
God told him. You belonged to him.
First, he had to meet your parents and work his magic on them.
** **
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imaginedreamwrite · a day ago
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If I Fall should be posted tonight!
What would y’all like next?
If You Love Her
Way Down We Go
Hellfire
Love Like Ours
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imaginedreamwrite · a day ago
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Multiverse Marriage: Part 7
A few days after your Steve left, skinny Steve returned to the suite, looking exhausted and drained, but no worse for wear than usual. Skinny Steve relayed the details they knew that someone was using the ‘power surges’ to create potential leads that would only distract. The distractions were an attempt to draw the avengers away from the tower and leave you opened and exposed.
It was all information they already knew, and it was all the exact reiteration that was just passed from one person to another with no new news available.
“We’ll figure this out, though,” skinny Steve assured you, “you don’t have to be worried.”
Worried. Your worry had made it to the two others. The two other Steve’s had been informed by nomad, who thought informing the others of your anxiety attack, of your breakdown, was pertinent information. You’d instead he not tell; you’d rather it be secret information that no one knew of, and yet, he said anyway. You understood why he had. You understood why he told them because if you had loosened your handle on your emotions and your anxiousness had run loose, then they would have to step in and offer you some medication.
“I know,” you chewed the inside of your cheek and covered your face with your hands, groaning into your palms, “I just-ugh.”
“I know,” skinny Steve hugged you and rubbed his hand down your back, “I know, sweetheart.”
You leaned into him. You were drawn to them all. You were drawn to all of the Steve’s in your life because they represented a part of the man you loved. Each of them was your husband and your husband, yet there were inherently different.
Nomad was bold, grislier. He was possessive, rightfully so, after losing his fiancée and his unborn baby. He was the darkest in spirit. Nomad was on the darker side of the spectrum.
Skinny Steve was shy; he was quiet and gentle-natured. He was courteous, polite. He was on the lighter side of the spectrum.
Your husband was in the middle. He could be a man of great need and passion, possession and desire. He could fuck you senseless with his hand wrapped around your throat and your cunt dripping for him. Or he could make love to you; he could sensualize you most erotically while placing tender kisses to your flesh and filling you while whispering delicate thoughts in your ear.
You thought there was the capacity to love them all. To want them all. But what did that say about you? About your marriage?
You loved Steve. You loved your marriage to Steve. Yet, there was that capacity to love nomad and skinny Steve. You knew you had that capacity.
But what…but what…
“Can we do something? Please?” You whipped around and followed skinny Steve with your eyes as he moves from the kitchen to the living room, where nomad was stretched across the couch.
“Y/N-“ nomad groaned.
“I haven’t been able to leave the tower for weeks. I haven’t gone on missions; I’ve barely been able to train. I’m bored. I want to go out. “
“You’re here for your safety, honey.” Nomad called from the couch, lifting his head to gaze at you. “This is the safest place for you right now.”
“Says you. You’re allowed to leave.” You crossed your arms over your chest and pout. “I haven’t been able to leave in weeks, and I feel like I’m going crazy.”
“Sweetheart,” skinny Steve spoke before nomad, “I know you want to go do something, and we would but-“
“Are you going to pout?” Nomad asked, raising an eyebrow.
“I’m not pouting. I’m making my point with enthusiasm.” Your lips were still formed in a pout, despite you saying you weren’t, and your eyebrows were knit together.
“You know we can’t-“ the sound of the door opening brought the nomad to his feet and skinny Steve to grab your arm and pull you closer to him.
They were on the defensive, unaware of who could be back. Nomad was standing closest to the door, with his jaw clenched and his back rigid, while skinny Steve had placed himself directly in front of you.
The moment of fear was temporary and eased when the familiar face of your husband with his bright blue eyes came into view. It dissipated and was replaced with your enthusiastic joy, your relief at seeing him again.
“Steve,” you departed skinny Steve’s side and ran toward him. You wrapped your arms around his neck and jumped, wrapping your legs around his waist. Your mouth was instantly planted on his, kissing him deeply and intensely for the first time in a week. “I missed you.”
“I missed you,” he mumbled against your neck, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist, “you’re beautiful.”
“So are you,” you spoke with a laugh, mumbling against his lips, “I missed you so much.”
The world faded until it was you and Steve. The world faded until it was nothing but his arms wrapped around your waist and your arms around his neck. It was a perfect moment, what you had been waiting for.
“Y/N-“ Steve started to speak again, only to be stopped by the splattering of blood. Your blood. Your blood spurts landed on his clothes, you gasped for air and fell to the floor, your hand pressed tightly against your abdomen, your fingers becoming coated in warm, sticky blood.
Another shot rang through the suite, embedding the bullet into space beside Steve. It came too close, too quickly.
“Get her to the medical bay,” Steve lift you carefully and passed you off to nomad. Strong arms lift you, strong arms held you as whispers of encouragement. “Keep her close.”
Steve reached for his shield sitting by the wall of the kitchen. He swiped his protection from the floor and pushed his arm through the leather straps, holding the guard in front of a nomad as he moved, deflecting the bullets being fired into the suite.
“You’ll be okay.” He mumbled, “you’re going to be okay.”
** **
The steady beeping machine was rhythmic, yet it didn’t make any of them feel better. It was complicated; the entire situation was twisted in nature, yet at the heart of it all lay the mysterious truth that was slowly being unveiled one little twist at a time.
“Tainted bullets,” Bucky held the metal casing in between his finger and his thumb, “HYDRA was known for using them when they didn’t want an immediate kill.”
“Tainted bullets?” Nomad turned his attention from the medivac bed secured in the quintet toward the ex-assassin.
“Dipped in poison before they’re fired. If they only graze the skin, they can cause infections that will overtake the body within days. The victim gets treated for the gunshot wound but not the infection.” Bucky tossed the casing to Steve, the original Steve, and then placed his hands on his hips.
“Hydra’s destroyed. Hydra’s done.” Steve countered, glancing from his best friend to his wife.
“If they could get through the realities, then it begs the question whether an agent of Hydra could too.”
“I think it’s the Winter Soldier.” Bucky grabbed the bullet when it was handed to him again, examining the markings left behind and the residue from the position. “I think the winter soldier, from some reality, crossed into this one.”
“I agree,” Tony’s hologram flickered beside the medivac bed, “you three will take Mrs. Rogers to a safe house, one that HYDRA would not be aware of, and we will work on finding the Winter Soldier.”
“Once we find him,” Bucky conferred, “we’re sending him back to where he came from.”
“That still leaves the ‘why?’ hanging in the air.” Skinny Steve stood to your right, his hand placed on yours, his thumb brushing across your knuckles. “We don’t know why The Winter Soldier is here. Or what reality he’s from.”
“I think we do,” Tony’s hologram crossed his arms, “we think he’s from the twig’s.”
“Don’t be an asshole, Tony.” The original Steve came to skinny Steve’s defence, shooting him a glare.
“How do you know?” Skinny Steve asked, his hand squeezing yours. “How do you know he’s from mine?”
“Y/N has a bigger effect on you and Barnes in most realities than we thought. In skinny guy’s reality, Y/N first made contact with Barnes under HYDRA. It was Y/N who first made it possible for Steve to find Barnes and help rehabilitate him. Without Y/N and help to find him, HYDRA’s control grew, and the Avengers were wiped out. If HYDRA was able to bridge between realities to get The Winter Soldier here, then they could bridge realities and spread their control through each.” Tony finished with furrowed brows.
“The butterfly effect begins with the flutter of wings. One death could change the course of history.” Bucky looked at each of the Steve’s; his lips downturned into a frown.
“So the safe house…” nomad placed his hands on his hips. “Where is it exactly?”
“In the middle of nowhere.”
** **
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imaginedreamwrite · a day ago
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Reblog for tags: @alexakeyloveloki @simrantheconqueror @denise-was-here @karliewheatley67 @pastel-boy-sungjae
Alpha, May I?
Part Two
** **
The drive to the Thrombey mansion was slow going, and given all the vehicles parked outside, all the Thrombey/Drsydale’s had crawled out of their holes to be here. Including Hugh, with his shiny little beemer that looked like a tin can with the top skewed off.
With Hugh having his beemer, you recognized the mustang Joni insisted on driving, the SUV for Walt and his wife snd their little nazi son, and the Escalade Linda and her husband drove. The small cluster of vehicles was parked haphazardly as you parked near the grass. When you slid the automatic level from drive to park and had turned off your car and tucked the keys into your pocket, you exited your car. You stood by the driver’s side of the car and studied the family through the window in the mansion, watching them linger in their air of sophistication and high class that turned your nose and your stomach.
You had to take deep breaths and ease the slight souring of your stomach that told you something amiss was on the near horizon. Your senses as an omega were sharpened and heightened to the mixing of scents, the alpha’s and beta’s, that cling heavily in the air. They must’ve gotten here movements before you did, or maybe you were just hyper-aware of the fact that among them all, housekeepers alike, there were only two omega’s, and you were one of them.
Linda, Ransom, Walt, we’re all alphas. Jodi, Meg, Walt’s wife and Linda’s husband were all beta’s.
Jacob was a little shit.
“Y/N!” Meg called your name from the front door, waving her hand for you to come over, “we’re waiting for you!”
You let go of your car door and crossed the grass, the small flat heels of your boots digging into the lawn as you walked from the safety of your car to the clutches of the vultures tucked in the mansion.
“Hey Meg,” you greet her before wiping your boots on the rug at the front entrance, “you didn’t have to wait.”
“Grandad insisted,” she closed the door behind you and brushed past you, her scent billeting past you as she moved into the living room nearest the front entrance. She joined her mom, but not before shooting a glare toward Jacob.
“Good morning, Y/N.” the polite and somewhat courteous greetings were standard, the blasé way they made an effort to make you feel seen without being seen.
“Do you have any idea why we’re here?” Walt stood and walked with his cane thudding against the carpet and the hardwood floor as he moved toward you. “Did he say anything..?”
He was an alpha, and yet his scent was burning your nose; it was aggravating. It was stale and acrid, and you didn’t want it anywhere near you. He was married, he was mated, yet his scent was…driving. It was as if he was no longer satisfied with what he had; there was a streak of selfishness that was tainting his scent.
“No,” you exhaled sharply, your insides twisting when Hugh’s eyes landed on you, “I hadn’t heard anything.”
You pressed yourself back against the wooden staircase, your fingers gripping the wood. Your fingertips were running along the grooves in the wood, your eyes cast to the side as Hugh studied you with the sole purpose of watching you squirm. You usually wouldn’t have been so bothered by him, by any of him, but there was too much going on. Their scents were spiking, all of them. Every one of them was radiating like a thick fog, and it was making your head spin.
But no more than Hugh’s. He was the alpha whose scent was coming through the fog; his scent was the most distinguished through the haze, through the mist that carried.
“We’re ready for you in here,” a man dressed in a fine suit stepped out from the hallway, directing your attention to one of the study’s, “he wants to see the omega first.”
All eyes were on you. All eyes were glued to you as you spun on your heels and stalked toward the office toward the comfort that Harlan extended. You enjoyed Harlan’s company, even his mother’s company was more suitable than the rest of them.
“Harlan,” you slipped into the office, ignoring the lawyers setting up their files on the desk, “this has to do with your grand plan?”
He smiled at you from his place on one of the armchairs. His leg was crossed over the other, and he waved you over to the matching set, wishing to have a conversation with you before everything began. You took his request and sat on the armchair, though you pulled your feet up and tucked them under yourself. You fiddled with the seam of your sweater, tucking it into your palm and squeezing.
“You seem nervous,” Harlan commented, judging by the way you were sitting and the tightness in your shoulders.
“You are brilliant, Harlan. You have a talent for writing crime novels and mysteries, and I’m never sure what to expect from you.” You smiled small, your stomach still wrapped in a tight coil. “But whatever you’re planning-“
“It will throw them all off their game,” Harlan nods his head, “it is about time it had. They’ve been comfortable for too long.”
His plan had to do with you. It had to do with one of the only omega’s in the room.
You were not a pushover. You were an omega, but you were not a pushover. You would not cower and cater to any alpha who looked your way for the sole purpose of having someone to fuck and finger before discarding to the wind.
You were an omega, but you were strong in your convictions and hadn’t allowed yourself to be toyed with by an alpha looking for a quick lay.
You dug your heels in and doubled down on your efforts to find a suppressant that would not only make your scent as an omega come across as unappealing but also suppress your heats and limit them to insignificance.
You were an omega who would not allow yourself to be bossed around by any ordinary alpha simply because they wanted to control you. You were an omega with a strong mind and a more robust constitution.
Harlan Thrombey called you alpha in omega’s clothing, an apparent compliment if you had ever heard one. As an alpha himself, who had married and mated with an omega like yourself, one who wasn’t part of the norm, he admired your tenacity and strength.
“You’ve got a kind heart, Y/N.” Harlan flourished his compliments of your nature, of your goodness, along with that fire that wasn’t so typical of your ‘class.’
“I like taking care of people who deserve it.” You clarified, giving him the medication he needed for the morning. “But I will not be some alpha’s plaything. My mother raised me to have more respect for myself.”
You supposed it was your fault then. You thought you had no one to blame but yourself for the events that pushed you toward the most significant problematic alpha you’d ever come across.
Maybe it was your stubbornness and your innate drive not to be saddled to an alpha who would treat you like a fuck toy that made Harlan do what he did.
“It’ll be good for you and good for Ransom.” He spoke in the late hours of the night before you left after completing your duties to him and his mother.
“What are you planning, Harlan?” You questioned with hesitancy, afraid of what his game plan was.
“My grandson needs to get his head out of his ass,” Harlan settled into his study, watching you gather your medical bag.
“Is that possible?” You joked. “Hugh has his head shoved so far up his ass; he’s become his own puppet master.”
Harlan was your friend and your employer. He wanted a friend, someone to talk to that hadn’t belonged to his leeching family. He had made a reputation for himself and built an empire that created a safety net for his family. In turn, they had become spoiled and entitled.
Jodi stole 400,000 from Harlan over four years.
Linda and her husband were living on Harlan’s dime while providing Hugh with an income without having to lift a finger.
His son was trying to defy his father’s wishes and expand his books into territories that Harlan was not pleased with.
They were all leeches, by Harlan’s own words, and he blamed himself. He wanted to give them tools to survive in the real world, and all he had done was make them entitled.
“Would you do me a favour, Y/N?” He asked that late night, his hand clutching yours with a burden, unspoken, weighing him down. “Do you trust me?”
“Of course, Harlan,” you thought of him as your family, as your surrogate grandfather, seeing as your own family had long since gone. “You’re my family.”
“You trust me?” He asked a second time; his persistence should’ve been a sign to dig deeper, “you know I have your best interests at hand-“
“Harlan,” you interrupted him, “I trust you. You’re one of the only alpha’s who hadn’t done me wrong. Of course, I trust you.”
“We’re ready for you all,” the announcement was made, and the Thrombey/Drysdale’s made their way into the study to hear the announcement.
You kept your eyes off of them; you’re kept your gaze set upon the studs that were hammered into the study chairs for decoration. You studied them; you ran your fingers over the detailing of the armchairs, ignoring the heated stare of Hugh. He was staring at you with this smirk on his face, and his blue eyes narrowed slightly. As the only omega in the room, he was trying to intimidate you with his presence, with his stare. If there weren’t so many different scents mixing in the room, the staleness and acridness of some that soured your stomach, and others that cut right through you, you would’ve cursed him out. You would’ve thrown your steely glare his way, but as it stood, you couldn’t have if you tried.
It was your fault; looking back at the warning signs you were given, you could’ve prevented this.
“Before we all get started, I would like to inform you that the reading of Harlan Thrombey’s Will has already been enacted into reality, is notarized and has gone through the lawful proceedings and will be immediate upon the last read word.” The lawyer spoke before he unfolded the letter.
The entire family was hopeful; you could see it in their eyes, in their eager stares. They were waiting for the news of their inheritance, of their rightful riches.
“This will be good for you,” Harlan mumbled, squeezing your hand, “you just need to trust me.”
“In the reading of the will created within the confines of the law, within sound mind, body, and soul, Harlan Thrombey-“ the lawyer took a pause and raised his head, his eyes zeroing in on Harlan, who gave him one quick nod.
“-Harlan Thrombey will therefore be awarding his publishing rights, the houses, his 60 million dollar fortune, the rights to all of his written works to….” There was a moment’s silence before he continued.
“…Y/N L/N…” the lawyer looked at you standing at the back of the room. “…and Ransom Drysdale under a set of circumstances surrounding a mating between the two parties, that if forfeited, will result in all assets and rights to fall to the rightful ownership under Y/N L/N. The act is immediate, and all possessions and rights upon the reading of the will, are henceforth and….”
Your head snapped up; your wide eyes landed on Harlan. Your breath caught in your throat, and the churning of your stomach became a torrential hurricane that pushed the acid of your stomach up into your throat.
“Are you out of your god damn mind?!” You felt his presence, his anger rolling off him in thick, dense waves. Ransom Drysdale, the alpha you would be bound to unless he is willing to lose his fortune.
“Do you trust me?” Harlan’s voice echoed in your head. “I have your best interests at hand-“
Ransom Drysdale was in your best interest?
You flew from the chair and hurried out of the room, your hand covering your mouth as the threat of getting physically sick was thrust upon you. You ripped the door open and stumbled out, your knees colliding with the stone path as you threw your head over the flower beds and eliminated your stomach contents into the leafy green and the vibrant petals. Your whole body shook as the acid crawled up your throat and emptied into the dirt and the grass.
“You little bitch-!” Walter, maybe Richard, cursed you.
“Back the hell off!” Meg screeched at them, rushing to your side to hold your hair back. “You’re okay? Are you okay?”
Harlan. Harlan Thrombey left everything to you.
Immediate possession of every right.
Hugh would only get his inheritance if you were mated.
To Hugh Ransom Drysdale, no less.
“He’s out of his god damn mind if he thinks we are going to sit here and let this happen!”
“Mom!” Meg whipped her head around with one hand smoothing down your back and the other holding your hair. “Grandad said it’s done. It’s gone through the courts. It’s legal.”
“Legal! Meg-“
“You’re okay, sweetheart.” Linda was to your right. “You’re going to be okay.”
You sensed them all except Hugh. He was gone.
He was gone with gravel spitting off his tires as his tin can Beemer sped out of the driveway.
** **
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imaginedreamwrite · a day ago
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Alpha, May I?
Part Two
** **
The drive to the Thrombey mansion was slow going, and given all the vehicles parked outside, all the Thrombey/Drsydale’s had crawled out of their holes to be here. Including Hugh, with his shiny little beemer that looked like a tin can with the top skewed off.
With Hugh having his beemer, you recognized the mustang Joni insisted on driving, the SUV for Walt and his wife snd their little nazi son, and the Escalade Linda and her husband drove. The small cluster of vehicles was parked haphazardly as you parked near the grass. When you slid the automatic level from drive to park and had turned off your car and tucked the keys into your pocket, you exited your car. You stood by the driver’s side of the car and studied the family through the window in the mansion, watching them linger in their air of sophistication and high class that turned your nose and your stomach.
You had to take deep breaths and ease the slight souring of your stomach that told you something amiss was on the near horizon. Your senses as an omega were sharpened and heightened to the mixing of scents, the alpha’s and beta’s, that cling heavily in the air. They must’ve gotten here movements before you did, or maybe you were just hyper-aware of the fact that among them all, housekeepers alike, there were only two omega’s, and you were one of them.
Linda, Ransom, Walt, we’re all alphas. Jodi, Meg, Walt’s wife and Linda’s husband were all beta’s.
Jacob was a little shit.
“Y/N!” Meg called your name from the front door, waving her hand for you to come over, “we’re waiting for you!”
You let go of your car door and crossed the grass, the small flat heels of your boots digging into the lawn as you walked from the safety of your car to the clutches of the vultures tucked in the mansion.
“Hey Meg,” you greet her before wiping your boots on the rug at the front entrance, “you didn’t have to wait.”
“Grandad insisted,” she closed the door behind you and brushed past you, her scent billeting past you as she moved into the living room nearest the front entrance. She joined her mom, but not before shooting a glare toward Jacob.
“Good morning, Y/N.” the polite and somewhat courteous greetings were standard, the blasé way they made an effort to make you feel seen without being seen.
“Do you have any idea why we’re here?” Walt stood and walked with his cane thudding against the carpet and the hardwood floor as he moved toward you. “Did he say anything..?”
He was an alpha, and yet his scent was burning your nose; it was aggravating. It was stale and acrid, and you didn’t want it anywhere near you. He was married, he was mated, yet his scent was…driving. It was as if he was no longer satisfied with what he had; there was a streak of selfishness that was tainting his scent.
“No,” you exhaled sharply, your insides twisting when Hugh’s eyes landed on you, “I hadn’t heard anything.”
You pressed yourself back against the wooden staircase, your fingers gripping the wood. Your fingertips were running along the grooves in the wood, your eyes cast to the side as Hugh studied you with the sole purpose of watching you squirm. You usually wouldn’t have been so bothered by him, by any of him, but there was too much going on. Their scents were spiking, all of them. Every one of them was radiating like a thick fog, and it was making your head spin.
But no more than Hugh’s. He was the alpha whose scent was coming through the fog; his scent was the most distinguished through the haze, through the mist that carried.
“We’re ready for you in here,” a man dressed in a fine suit stepped out from the hallway, directing your attention to one of the study’s, “he wants to see the omega first.”
All eyes were on you. All eyes were glued to you as you spun on your heels and stalked toward the office toward the comfort that Harlan extended. You enjoyed Harlan’s company, even his mother’s company was more suitable than the rest of them.
“Harlan,” you slipped into the office, ignoring the lawyers setting up their files on the desk, “this has to do with your grand plan?”
He smiled at you from his place on one of the armchairs. His leg was crossed over the other, and he waved you over to the matching set, wishing to have a conversation with you before everything began. You took his request and sat on the armchair, though you pulled your feet up and tucked them under yourself. You fiddled with the seam of your sweater, tucking it into your palm and squeezing.
“You seem nervous,” Harlan commented, judging by the way you were sitting and the tightness in your shoulders.
“You are brilliant, Harlan. You have a talent for writing crime novels and mysteries, and I’m never sure what to expect from you.” You smiled small, your stomach still wrapped in a tight coil. “But whatever you’re planning-“
“It will throw them all off their game,” Harlan nods his head, “it is about time it had. They’ve been comfortable for too long.”
His plan had to do with you. It had to do with one of the only omega’s in the room.
You were not a pushover. You were an omega, but you were not a pushover. You would not cower and cater to any alpha who looked your way for the sole purpose of having someone to fuck and finger before discarding to the wind.
You were an omega, but you were strong in your convictions and hadn’t allowed yourself to be toyed with by an alpha looking for a quick lay.
You dug your heels in and doubled down on your efforts to find a suppressant that would not only make your scent as an omega come across as unappealing but also suppress your heats and limit them to insignificance.
You were an omega who would not allow yourself to be bossed around by any ordinary alpha simply because they wanted to control you. You were an omega with a strong mind and a more robust constitution.
Harlan Thrombey called you alpha in omega’s clothing, an apparent compliment if you had ever heard one. As an alpha himself, who had married and mated with an omega like yourself, one who wasn’t part of the norm, he admired your tenacity and strength.
“You’ve got a kind heart, Y/N.” Harlan flourished his compliments of your nature, of your goodness, along with that fire that wasn’t so typical of your ‘class.’
“I like taking care of people who deserve it.” You clarified, giving him the medication he needed for the morning. “But I will not be some alpha’s plaything. My mother raised me to have more respect for myself.”
You supposed it was your fault then. You thought you had no one to blame but yourself for the events that pushed you toward the most significant problematic alpha you’d ever come across.
Maybe it was your stubbornness and your innate drive not to be saddled to an alpha who would treat you like a fuck toy that made Harlan do what he did.
“It’ll be good for you and good for Ransom.” He spoke in the late hours of the night before you left after completing your duties to him and his mother.
“What are you planning, Harlan?” You questioned with hesitancy, afraid of what his game plan was.
“My grandson needs to get his head out of his ass,” Harlan settled into his study, watching you gather your medical bag.
“Is that possible?” You joked. “Hugh has his head shoved so far up his ass; he’s become his own puppet master.”
Harlan was your friend and your employer. He wanted a friend, someone to talk to that hadn’t belonged to his leeching family. He had made a reputation for himself and built an empire that created a safety net for his family. In turn, they had become spoiled and entitled.
Jodi stole 400,000 from Harlan over four years.
Linda and her husband were living on Harlan’s dime while providing Hugh with an income without having to lift a finger.
His son was trying to defy his father’s wishes and expand his books into territories that Harlan was not pleased with.
They were all leeches, by Harlan’s own words, and he blamed himself. He wanted to give them tools to survive in the real world, and all he had done was make them entitled.
“Would you do me a favour, Y/N?” He asked that late night, his hand clutching yours with a burden, unspoken, weighing him down. “Do you trust me?”
“Of course, Harlan,” you thought of him as your family, as your surrogate grandfather, seeing as your own family had long since gone. “You’re my family.”
“You trust me?” He asked a second time; his persistence should’ve been a sign to dig deeper, “you know I have your best interests at hand-“
“Harlan,” you interrupted him, “I trust you. You’re one of the only alpha’s who hadn’t done me wrong. Of course, I trust you.”
“We’re ready for you all,” the announcement was made, and the Thrombey/Drysdale’s made their way into the study to hear the announcement.
You kept your eyes off of them; you’re kept your gaze set upon the studs that were hammered into the study chairs for decoration. You studied them; you ran your fingers over the detailing of the armchairs, ignoring the heated stare of Hugh. He was staring at you with this smirk on his face, and his blue eyes narrowed slightly. As the only omega in the room, he was trying to intimidate you with his presence, with his stare. If there weren’t so many different scents mixing in the room, the staleness and acridness of some that soured your stomach, and others that cut right through you, you would’ve cursed him out. You would’ve thrown your steely glare his way, but as it stood, you couldn’t have if you tried.
It was your fault; looking back at the warning signs you were given, you could’ve prevented this.
“Before we all get started, I would like to inform you that the reading of Harlan Thrombey’s Will has already been enacted into reality, is notarized and has gone through the lawful proceedings and will be immediate upon the last read word.” The lawyer spoke before he unfolded the letter.
The entire family was hopeful; you could see it in their eyes, in their eager stares. They were waiting for the news of their inheritance, of their rightful riches.
“This will be good for you,” Harlan mumbled, squeezing your hand, “you just need to trust me.”
“In the reading of the will created within the confines of the law, within sound mind, body, and soul, Harlan Thrombey-“ the lawyer took a pause and raised his head, his eyes zeroing in on Harlan, who gave him one quick nod.
“-Harlan Thrombey will therefore be awarding his publishing rights, the houses, his 60 million dollar fortune, the rights to all of his written works to….” There was a moment’s silence before he continued.
“…Y/N L/N…” the lawyer looked at you standing at the back of the room. “…and Ransom Drysdale under a set of circumstances surrounding a mating between the two parties, that if forfeited, will result in all assets and rights to fall to the rightful ownership under Y/N L/N. The act is immediate, and all possessions and rights upon the reading of the will, are henceforth and….”
Your head snapped up; your wide eyes landed on Harlan. Your breath caught in your throat, and the churning of your stomach became a torrential hurricane that pushed the acid of your stomach up into your throat.
“Are you out of your god damn mind?!” You felt his presence, his anger rolling off him in thick, dense waves. Ransom Drysdale, the alpha you would be bound to unless he is willing to lose his fortune.
“Do you trust me?” Harlan’s voice echoed in your head. “I have your best interests at hand-“
Ransom Drysdale was in your best interest?
You flew from the chair and hurried out of the room, your hand covering your mouth as the threat of getting physically sick was thrust upon you. You ripped the door open and stumbled out, your knees colliding with the stone path as you threw your head over the flower beds and eliminated your stomach contents into the leafy green and the vibrant petals. Your whole body shook as the acid crawled up your throat and emptied into the dirt and the grass.
“You little bitch-!” Walter, maybe Richard, cursed you.
“Back the hell off!” Meg screeched at them, rushing to your side to hold your hair back. “You’re okay? Are you okay?”
Harlan. Harlan Thrombey left everything to you.
Immediate possession of every right.
Hugh would only get his inheritance if you were mated.
To Hugh Ransom Drysdale, no less.
“He’s out of his god damn mind if he thinks we are going to sit here and let this happen!”
“Mom!” Meg whipped her head around with one hand smoothing down your back and the other holding your hair. “Grandad said it’s done. It’s gone through the courts. It’s legal.”
“Legal! Meg-“
“You’re okay, sweetheart.” Linda was to your right. “You’re going to be okay.”
You sensed them all except Hugh. He was gone.
He was gone with gravel spitting off his tires as his tin can Beemer sped out of the driveway.
** **
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imaginedreamwrite · a day ago
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Hellfire sneak peek
“I want you to ruin me.” The piece of paper sitting on that deep oak desk was mocking you, the inherent message written in a text, staring point blank at the man behind the desk.
Father Rogers was glancing between the text messages on the page and yourself. His bright blue eyes narrowed as he studied the message as if it would shift and change, despite the messages being solid proof that you were seeing Peter, that you wanted him to take your virginity.
“Y/N,” your mother was distraught, “please tell me you didn’t ask that…boy…to take your…”
“Virginity, mother.” You hissed, your arms crossed over your chest and your nose flaring. “You can say the word. Its not a sin.”
“Y/N,” Father Rogers cleared his throat, “if you are being pressed into something you don’t want to do-“
“Oh,” you leaned forward and rest your elbows on your knees, “this particular act is one I will be very fond of-“
“Once you are married.” Your father barked. “Father Rogers has offered his hand-“
“Are you out of your god damned minds?!” You shrieked.
“Y/N M/N L/N!” Your mother slammed her hand on her chair. “To use such language in front of Father a Rogers-“
“It’s okay,” Father Steve Rogers held up his hand, “Y/N dear, I know this is quite a shock to you-“
“No.” You stood your ground despite the sourness of your stomach. “No i will not-“
“Y/N,” he cleared his throat again, “you parents have approved of the engagement. Although I know that you will have some worries given the age difference between us, but this is an act of God. And you have my vow that before the engagement is made official, we will court.”
“Act of God?” Your eyes were downcast, the souring of your stomach making it hard to breathe.
“I will be a good husband and I will provide everything you will need in our marriage-“ His voice was drowned out by the sound of your heartbeat hammering in your ears.
You would have no choice. You had no way out.
“But first, I need to teach you how to be a good wife. That starts with discipline. Discipline will go hand and hand with courting, starting with our first date on Friday. I’ll pick you up at 6, sharp. You will be ready and waiting at the door.”
** **
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imaginedreamwrite · a day ago
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HELLFIRE WON’T LEAVE MY HEAD
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imaginedreamwrite · a day ago
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If I Fall is in progress!
What would you like next?
Alpha, May I? If You Love Her?
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imaginedreamwrite · a day ago
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I do not want to start Hellfire (yes I do)
I do not want to start Hellfire (yes I do)
I do not want to start Hellfire (yes I do)
I do not want to start Hellfire (yes I do)
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imaginedreamwrite · a day ago
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Reblog for tags: @blindedbyyourgrace17 @voiddylanobrosey @mandiiblanche @mrsdeanwinchester19
Multiverse Marriage: Part 7
A few days after your Steve left, skinny Steve returned to the suite, looking exhausted and drained, but no worse for wear than usual. Skinny Steve relayed the details they knew that someone was using the ‘power surges’ to create potential leads that would only distract. The distractions were an attempt to draw the avengers away from the tower and leave you opened and exposed.
It was all information they already knew, and it was all the exact reiteration that was just passed from one person to another with no new news available.
“We’ll figure this out, though,” skinny Steve assured you, “you don’t have to be worried.”
Worried. Your worry had made it to the two others. The two other Steve’s had been informed by nomad, who thought informing the others of your anxiety attack, of your breakdown, was pertinent information. You’d instead he not tell; you’d rather it be secret information that no one knew of, and yet, he said anyway. You understood why he had. You understood why he told them because if you had loosened your handle on your emotions and your anxiousness had run loose, then they would have to step in and offer you some medication.
“I know,” you chewed the inside of your cheek and covered your face with your hands, groaning into your palms, “I just-ugh.”
“I know,” skinny Steve hugged you and rubbed his hand down your back, “I know, sweetheart.”
You leaned into him. You were drawn to them all. You were drawn to all of the Steve’s in your life because they represented a part of the man you loved. Each of them was your husband and your husband, yet there were inherently different.
Nomad was bold, grislier. He was possessive, rightfully so, after losing his fiancée and his unborn baby. He was the darkest in spirit. Nomad was on the darker side of the spectrum.
Skinny Steve was shy; he was quiet and gentle-natured. He was courteous, polite. He was on the lighter side of the spectrum.
Your husband was in the middle. He could be a man of great need and passion, possession and desire. He could fuck you senseless with his hand wrapped around your throat and your cunt dripping for him. Or he could make love to you; he could sensualize you most erotically while placing tender kisses to your flesh and filling you while whispering delicate thoughts in your ear.
You thought there was the capacity to love them all. To want them all. But what did that say about you? About your marriage?
You loved Steve. You loved your marriage to Steve. Yet, there was that capacity to love nomad and skinny Steve. You knew you had that capacity.
But what…but what…
“Can we do something? Please?” You whipped around and followed skinny Steve with your eyes as he moves from the kitchen to the living room, where nomad was stretched across the couch.
“Y/N-“ nomad groaned.
“I haven’t been able to leave the tower for weeks. I haven’t gone on missions; I’ve barely been able to train. I’m bored. I want to go out. “
“You’re here for your safety, honey.” Nomad called from the couch, lifting his head to gaze at you. “This is the safest place for you right now.”
“Says you. You’re allowed to leave.” You crossed your arms over your chest and pout. “I haven’t been able to leave in weeks, and I feel like I’m going crazy.”
“Sweetheart,” skinny Steve spoke before nomad, “I know you want to go do something, and we would but-“
“Are you going to pout?” Nomad asked, raising an eyebrow.
“I’m not pouting. I’m making my point with enthusiasm.” Your lips were still formed in a pout, despite you saying you weren’t, and your eyebrows were knit together.
“You know we can’t-“ the sound of the door opening brought the nomad to his feet and skinny Steve to grab your arm and pull you closer to him.
They were on the defensive, unaware of who could be back. Nomad was standing closest to the door, with his jaw clenched and his back rigid, while skinny Steve had placed himself directly in front of you.
The moment of fear was temporary and eased when the familiar face of your husband with his bright blue eyes came into view. It dissipated and was replaced with your enthusiastic joy, your relief at seeing him again.
“Steve,” you departed skinny Steve’s side and ran toward him. You wrapped your arms around his neck and jumped, wrapping your legs around his waist. Your mouth was instantly planted on his, kissing him deeply and intensely for the first time in a week. “I missed you.”
“I missed you,” he mumbled against your neck, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist, “you’re beautiful.”
“So are you,” you spoke with a laugh, mumbling against his lips, “I missed you so much.”
The world faded until it was you and Steve. The world faded until it was nothing but his arms wrapped around your waist and your arms around his neck. It was a perfect moment, what you had been waiting for.
“Y/N-“ Steve started to speak again, only to be stopped by the splattering of blood. Your blood. Your blood spurts landed on his clothes, you gasped for air and fell to the floor, your hand pressed tightly against your abdomen, your fingers becoming coated in warm, sticky blood.
Another shot rang through the suite, embedding the bullet into space beside Steve. It came too close, too quickly.
“Get her to the medical bay,” Steve lift you carefully and passed you off to nomad. Strong arms lift you, strong arms held you as whispers of encouragement. “Keep her close.”
Steve reached for his shield sitting by the wall of the kitchen. He swiped his protection from the floor and pushed his arm through the leather straps, holding the guard in front of a nomad as he moved, deflecting the bullets being fired into the suite.
“You’ll be okay.” He mumbled, “you’re going to be okay.”
** **
The steady beeping machine was rhythmic, yet it didn’t make any of them feel better. It was complicated; the entire situation was twisted in nature, yet at the heart of it all lay the mysterious truth that was slowly being unveiled one little twist at a time.
“Tainted bullets,” Bucky held the metal casing in between his finger and his thumb, “HYDRA was known for using them when they didn’t want an immediate kill.”
“Tainted bullets?” Nomad turned his attention from the medivac bed secured in the quintet toward the ex-assassin.
“Dipped in poison before they’re fired. If they only graze the skin, they can cause infections that will overtake the body within days. The victim gets treated for the gunshot wound but not the infection.” Bucky tossed the casing to Steve, the original Steve, and then placed his hands on his hips.
“Hydra’s destroyed. Hydra’s done.” Steve countered, glancing from his best friend to his wife.
“If they could get through the realities, then it begs the question whether an agent of Hydra could too.”
“I think it’s the Winter Soldier.” Bucky grabbed the bullet when it was handed to him again, examining the markings left behind and the residue from the position. “I think the winter soldier, from some reality, crossed into this one.”
“I agree,” Tony’s hologram flickered beside the medivac bed, “you three will take Mrs. Rogers to a safe house, one that HYDRA would not be aware of, and we will work on finding the Winter Soldier.”
“Once we find him,” Bucky conferred, “we’re sending him back to where he came from.”
“That still leaves the ‘why?’ hanging in the air.” Skinny Steve stood to your right, his hand placed on yours, his thumb brushing across your knuckles. “We don’t know why The Winter Soldier is here. Or what reality he’s from.”
“I think we do,” Tony’s hologram crossed his arms, “we think he’s from the twig’s.”
“Don’t be an asshole, Tony.” The original Steve came to skinny Steve’s defence, shooting him a glare.
“How do you know?” Skinny Steve asked, his hand squeezing yours. “How do you know he’s from mine?”
“Y/N has a bigger effect on you and Barnes in most realities than we thought. In skinny guy’s reality, Y/N first made contact with Barnes under HYDRA. It was Y/N who first made it possible for Steve to find Barnes and help rehabilitate him. Without Y/N and help to find him, HYDRA’s control grew, and the Avengers were wiped out. If HYDRA was able to bridge between realities to get The Winter Soldier here, then they could bridge realities and spread their control through each.” Tony finished with furrowed brows.
“The butterfly effect begins with the flutter of wings. One death could change the course of history.” Bucky looked at each of the Steve’s; his lips downturned into a frown.
“So the safe house…” nomad placed his hands on his hips. “Where is it exactly?”
“In the middle of nowhere.”
** **
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imaginedreamwrite · 2 days ago
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Multiverse Marriage: Part 7
A few days after your Steve left, skinny Steve returned to the suite, looking exhausted and drained, but no worse for wear than usual. Skinny Steve relayed the details they knew that someone was using the ‘power surges’ to create potential leads that would only distract. The distractions were an attempt to draw the avengers away from the tower and leave you opened and exposed.
It was all information they already knew, and it was all the exact reiteration that was just passed from one person to another with no new news available.
“We’ll figure this out, though,” skinny Steve assured you, “you don’t have to be worried.”
Worried. Your worry had made it to the two others. The two other Steve’s had been informed by nomad, who thought informing the others of your anxiety attack, of your breakdown, was pertinent information. You’d instead he not tell; you’d rather it be secret information that no one knew of, and yet, he said anyway. You understood why he had. You understood why he told them because if you had loosened your handle on your emotions and your anxiousness had run loose, then they would have to step in and offer you some medication.
“I know,” you chewed the inside of your cheek and covered your face with your hands, groaning into your palms, “I just-ugh.”
“I know,” skinny Steve hugged you and rubbed his hand down your back, “I know, sweetheart.”
You leaned into him. You were drawn to them all. You were drawn to all of the Steve’s in your life because they represented a part of the man you loved. Each of them was your husband and your husband, yet there were inherently different.
Nomad was bold, grislier. He was possessive, rightfully so, after losing his fiancée and his unborn baby. He was the darkest in spirit. Nomad was on the darker side of the spectrum.
Skinny Steve was shy; he was quiet and gentle-natured. He was courteous, polite. He was on the lighter side of the spectrum.
Your husband was in the middle. He could be a man of great need and passion, possession and desire. He could fuck you senseless with his hand wrapped around your throat and your cunt dripping for him. Or he could make love to you; he could sensualize you most erotically while placing tender kisses to your flesh and filling you while whispering delicate thoughts in your ear.
You thought there was the capacity to love them all. To want them all. But what did that say about you? About your marriage?
You loved Steve. You loved your marriage to Steve. Yet, there was that capacity to love nomad and skinny Steve. You knew you had that capacity.
But what…but what…
“Can we do something? Please?” You whipped around and followed skinny Steve with your eyes as he moves from the kitchen to the living room, where nomad was stretched across the couch.
“Y/N-“ nomad groaned.
“I haven’t been able to leave the tower for weeks. I haven’t gone on missions; I’ve barely been able to train. I’m bored. I want to go out. “
“You’re here for your safety, honey.” Nomad called from the couch, lifting his head to gaze at you. “This is the safest place for you right now.”
“Says you. You’re allowed to leave.” You crossed your arms over your chest and pout. “I haven’t been able to leave in weeks, and I feel like I’m going crazy.”
“Sweetheart,” skinny Steve spoke before nomad, “I know you want to go do something, and we would but-“
“Are you going to pout?” Nomad asked, raising an eyebrow.
“I’m not pouting. I’m making my point with enthusiasm.” Your lips were still formed in a pout, despite you saying you weren’t, and your eyebrows were knit together.
“You know we can’t-“ the sound of the door opening brought the nomad to his feet and skinny Steve to grab your arm and pull you closer to him.
They were on the defensive, unaware of who could be back. Nomad was standing closest to the door, with his jaw clenched and his back rigid, while skinny Steve had placed himself directly in front of you.
The moment of fear was temporary and eased when the familiar face of your husband with his bright blue eyes came into view. It dissipated and was replaced with your enthusiastic joy, your relief at seeing him again.
“Steve,” you departed skinny Steve’s side and ran toward him. You wrapped your arms around his neck and jumped, wrapping your legs around his waist. Your mouth was instantly planted on his, kissing him deeply and intensely for the first time in a week. “I missed you.”
“I missed you,” he mumbled against your neck, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist, “you’re beautiful.”
“So are you,” you spoke with a laugh, mumbling against his lips, “I missed you so much.”
The world faded until it was you and Steve. The world faded until it was nothing but his arms wrapped around your waist and your arms around his neck. It was a perfect moment, what you had been waiting for.
“Y/N-“ Steve started to speak again, only to be stopped by the splattering of blood. Your blood. Your blood spurts landed on his clothes, you gasped for air and fell to the floor, your hand pressed tightly against your abdomen, your fingers becoming coated in warm, sticky blood.
Another shot rang through the suite, embedding the bullet into space beside Steve. It came too close, too quickly.
“Get her to the medical bay,” Steve lift you carefully and passed you off to nomad. Strong arms lift you, strong arms held you as whispers of encouragement. “Keep her close.”
Steve reached for his shield sitting by the wall of the kitchen. He swiped his protection from the floor and pushed his arm through the leather straps, holding the guard in front of a nomad as he moved, deflecting the bullets being fired into the suite.
“You’ll be okay.” He mumbled, “you’re going to be okay.”
** **
The steady beeping machine was rhythmic, yet it didn’t make any of them feel better. It was complicated; the entire situation was twisted in nature, yet at the heart of it all lay the mysterious truth that was slowly being unveiled one little twist at a time.
“Tainted bullets,” Bucky held the metal casing in between his finger and his thumb, “HYDRA was known for using them when they didn’t want an immediate kill.”
“Tainted bullets?” Nomad turned his attention from the medivac bed secured in the quintet toward the ex-assassin.
“Dipped in poison before they’re fired. If they only graze the skin, they can cause infections that will overtake the body within days. The victim gets treated for the gunshot wound but not the infection.” Bucky tossed the casing to Steve, the original Steve, and then placed his hands on his hips.
“Hydra’s destroyed. Hydra’s done.” Steve countered, glancing from his best friend to his wife.
“If they could get through the realities, then it begs the question whether an agent of Hydra could too.”
“I think it’s the Winter Soldier.” Bucky grabbed the bullet when it was handed to him again, examining the markings left behind and the residue from the position. “I think the winter soldier, from some reality, crossed into this one.”
“I agree,” Tony’s hologram flickered beside the medivac bed, “you three will take Mrs. Rogers to a safe house, one that HYDRA would not be aware of, and we will work on finding the Winter Soldier.”
“Once we find him,” Bucky conferred, “we’re sending him back to where he came from.”
“That still leaves the ‘why?’ hanging in the air.” Skinny Steve stood to your right, his hand placed on yours, his thumb brushing across your knuckles. “We don’t know why The Winter Soldier is here. Or what reality he’s from.”
“I think we do,” Tony’s hologram crossed his arms, “we think he’s from the twig’s.”
“Don’t be an asshole, Tony.” The original Steve came to skinny Steve’s defence, shooting him a glare.
“How do you know?” Skinny Steve asked, his hand squeezing yours. “How do you know he’s from mine?”
“Y/N has a bigger effect on you and Barnes in most realities than we thought. In skinny guy’s reality, Y/N first made contact with Barnes under HYDRA. It was Y/N who first made it possible for Steve to find Barnes and help rehabilitate him. Without Y/N and help to find him, HYDRA’s control grew, and the Avengers were wiped out. If HYDRA was able to bridge between realities to get The Winter Soldier here, then they could bridge realities and spread their control through each.” Tony finished with furrowed brows.
“The butterfly effect begins with the flutter of wings. One death could change the course of history.” Bucky looked at each of the Steve’s; his lips downturned into a frown.
“So the safe house…” nomad placed his hands on his hips. “Where is it exactly?”
“In the middle of nowhere.”
** **
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