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#avengers au
toomanyrobins2 · 2 days ago
The Proposal Pt. 11
Summary: Y/N Arnaud is the liaison to the Avengers, but she’s also a French citizen. After a couple mistakes, her visa application is denied. Even though they can’t stand each other, Bucky offers to marry her in order to keep her visa status in the U.S. and avoid deportation.
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader
Word count: 1.5k
Content Warning: cursing, Bucky being a pain in the ass, mentions of nudity, maybe smut(haven’t decided yet)
Notes: Bucky's finally recognizing he's an idiot!!!
masterlist // next part
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The morning after Mame’s birthday party found Y/N in bed. Her arm was thrown across Bucky’s stomach and her cheek squished against his chest. “Y/N!” Her mother’s voice echoes through the house. She jolted out of bed and groaned when the sunlight hit her pupils. Diving back under the covers, she curled back up against her bedmate.
Bucky laughed and yanked the covers away, “I warned you to not drink so much.”
“I hate you,” Y/N’s memories came rushing back and she remembered propositioning Bucky after a few drinks. Some of her family had come over and started asking questions about Bucky and the serum that had her wanting to die of embarrassment and downing glasses of wine. By the time he joined the party, she had to admit she was curious too and the alcohol had given her courage. Unfortunately for her, she’d been rejected. Y/N buried her head in the pillows, wanting the day to end before it even began. She wasn’t allowed to wallow in her own misery because her mom was screaming her name again. Rolling over, she shared a look with Bucky before rushing down the stairs.
As she made her way outside, Y/N was greeted with a familiar group waiting with her mother. Mame and Tony were happily conversing while the rest were talking with Charlotte. “I must still be drunk,” Y/N said, “Because I see the Avengers on my front France!”
Steve smiled at her and kissed her cheek, “Fantastic pajamas, sweetheart.”
Y/N looked down and realized she was dressed only in Bucky’s shirt. God, this day was getting worse by the second. “I’ll be right back,” she rushed back into the house, passing Bucky on the way. She changed as fast as she could. When she came into the kitchen, Tony, Nat, Sam, Steve, and Wanda were all gathered around the counter talking with Bucky and her family as they sipped coffee. Bucky saw her first and offered her an awkward smile in an attempt to comfort her.
“There she is!” Tony crowed and came over to hug her.
“What are you guys doing here?”
“Your mother called us! Said you were getting married here and you can’t get married without us!”
“She did, did she?” Y/N looked around Tony to glare at her mother who looked completely unbothered.
Charlotte smiled at the group, “Why don’t I show you your rooms and you can unpack and settle in. We want this wedding done by the end of the week so it’s going to be crazy.”
Steve watched as Bucky moved across the room. It was clear he thought everyone would be distracted and trailed a hand down Y/N’s back, his finger running along the strip of skin where her shirt had ridden up. Leaning down, he whispered in her ear “You okay, doll?”
She looked up at him as she bit her bottom lip, the freak out evident in her eyes, “This is getting very real.”
“It’ll all be okay,” he opened his arms and Y/N immediately wrapped her arms around him, letting his heartbeat soothe her. Bucky kissed the top of her head and looked up to catch Steve watching them with a smirk on his face. “I’m gonna go talk to Steve. Will you be alright?”
Y/N nodded. At the last second, she caught his wrist, “You should tell him.” Bucky looked at her very confused and she clarified, “Tell him the truth. About us. He’s your best friend--the only family you have left--and I can’t ask you to lie to him.”
“Hey,” he trapped her against the countertop, his arms caging her in, “You never asked me. I chose this.”
“Will you just think about it? For me?”
“Yes, I’ll think about it.” Y/N gave him a quick kiss on the cheek in thanks before scurrying away.
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Bucky and Steve walked out onto the patio in awkward silence. The blond broke first, “How are you doing, Buck?”
Bucky cleared his throat, “Honestly, I’m still struggling to understand why she agreed to all of this.”
Steve sighed and shook his head at his friend’s obliviousness, “Do you remember that night when you said you felt invisible when Peggy and I were talking to each other about dancing?”
Bucky took a moment to scan through his scattered memories, “Strangely enough, yes, I think I do. I could’ve been on another planet and you two wouldn’t have noticed. Frankly, it was kinda disgusting.”
“Well I have to break it to you Buck, but you and Y/N are that disgusting. You know, in the whole time I’ve known her, she hasn’t dated and from what I understand from Nat she didn’t before either. You both are disgustingly in love and I’m shocked it all took us so long to see it,” Steve clapped a hand on his shoulder, “And I really mean that. Look at that little display in the kitchen. You two are not good at hiding how you feel about each all.”
Bucky realized that he didn’t want to confess to Steve because he didn’t want it to be a lie anymore. He watched through the glass door as Y/N laughed at something her sister and grandmother were saying. “I’ll be right back,” he walked away from Steve without another glance. He sidled up beside Y/N and kissed her cheek, “Doll, you’re needed...urgently.”
Her brow furrowed, “What’s going on?”
“Wedding things. We’ll be quick.”
“Okay?” Y/N looked back at her family, confusion written on her features.
As soon as they turned the corner, Bucky had her pressed up against the closest wall. Y/N looked up at him, her eyes wide but trusting, her lips parted slightly. He couldn’t tear his gaze away and then he swooped down to capture them in a searing kiss. Y/N froze for a moment but then they were locked together, her finger tangled in his hair. His vibranium arm held her as close as possible, the other hand on the wall beside her head. Bucky felt like he was drunk on her. Her perfume wrapped around him like a warm blanket and she tasted intoxicating.
The lusty haze that had taken him over was cut short by Y/N pulling away, “What the hell was that?”
“A kiss.”
“I don’t understand. Last night, I made a move and you thoroughly rejected me and then today you’re pulling me away from everyone to kiss me. What the hell?” she shoved him, but he didn’t budge at all, “Do you want me or not?”
“God, you’re maddening. Of course, I want you! But, last night you were drunk. Very drunk.”
Y/N scoffed, “I wasn’t that drunk.”
Bucky raised an eyebrow, “Are you going to argue with me about something we know I’m right about, or are you going to let me kiss you again?” She stuttered for a moment before throwing her hands up in defeat. Bucky chuckled at her, “An excellent choice.” He captured her lips again. This kiss was less hungry but just as passionate. He kissed her slowly like he was trying to memorize every inch of her: what she tasted like, how it felt when their tongues danced against each other, and how her body pressed against his. Y/N moaned softly and wrapped her legs around Bucky’s waist. He carried her up the stairs to their room, never separating. He sucked a mark into her neck, “I am an idiot for waiting this long to really kiss you.”
“Yes, yes you are.” They fell back onto the bed. Y/N was straddling Bucky, her thighs on either side of his. His arm was wrapped around her waist and she started to trail kisses down his neck. As she ground against him, she felt the vibranium tighten until it was almost uncomfortable and she looked up. Bucky didn’t look how someone should look when they’re being straddled by their supposed fiancé. Y/N sat back so that she was in his lap but the moment was obviously paused. “What’s wrong?”
“Liar,” she could feel he tense all of Bucky was and she rested her hand on his chest,
“Honey, you’re just learning how to enjoy life again. The bare minimum shouldn’t be the standard. Sleep should be something comfortable. Every day shouldn’t be a new fight or battle. It’s okay to say no and not want to have sex.”
“Trust me, I want sex…” he trailed off.
“I don’t know how to say it,” he avoided her gaze, “But it just doesn’t feel right.”
She shrugged, “Then we wait until it does.”
His head shot up in surprise, “Just like that?”
“Just like that,” Y/N kissed him softly, “Bucky, I want the both of us to enjoy ourselves or it’s not worth it.” She climbed off of his lap and he let out a whine before he could stop himself. Laughing, she walked into the bathroom, “I’m going to take a cold shower. I may be patient but other parts of me are disagreeing!”
Bucky fell back against the bed with a grunt, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands.
@mycosmicparadise @white-wolf-buckaroo @lharrietg
@gia-kerks @marvelofwitch @jakey-stan
@buckycuddles @vicmc624 @happypopcornprincess
@hufflepeople @mrsamybarnes @agentsofsheilds
@onlyjamesbuchananbarnes @redhairedfeistynerd
@michaelfuckinglangdon @simp-forbucky @rachellovesloki @buckys-left-middle-finger
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nev3rfound · a day ago
in another lifetime : part six - h.z / l.k
with the realisation that time is close to running out, you make the decision that's best knowing that it'll hurt those you love most. (3k)
masterlist / permanent taglist / etsy shop - requests open!
warnings: elements of tfatws series and the alienist, injuries, health problems and disjointed info from doctor strange kinda au, kinda sad in parts (this is all sort of an au so be mindful thank you!)
* just a little note from me - thank you for reading this little series, it's been a joy to write and there is going to be a final part after this, I tried fitting it all into 6 parts but i don't want to rush the ending :) *
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New York, 1898
Exiting the institute, Laszlo was met by John panting heavily with sweat crossing his brow. "How, how is she?" John dares to ask, only to witness Laszlo shaking his head.
"They, they aren't sure how long she'll have left." Laszlo states, clenching his fist tightly around his cane, knowing if he were to let go, he'd fall to pieces.
John reaches out and rests his hand on Laszlo's shoulder. "I am truly sorry, Laszlo." John comments, feeling his heart sinking.
This wasn't how it should be. You and Laszlo were his child's godparents, the ones who they would look up to. There were still more investigations to be done with Sara, places for you to travel to around the world together. This, this isn't the end for you, John thinks, it can't be.
With the snow beginning to rise on the steps of the institute, Laszlo clears his throat and shrugs John's hand from himself. "I have work to do, John." He mutters, turning away from his dear friend. "Do you know if Sara is at her office?"
"I'm not sure, we haven't spoken much of late." John admits, catching Laszlo glancing down at the wedding ring on his hand, tieing his lifelong commitment to Violet and the marks of a child on his clothing.
"Very well." Laszlo nods, retreating back up the thick white steps.
Following Laszlo, John speaks up. "If there's anything I, we can do-"
"There's nothing." Snapping quickly, Laszlo can feel his breathing becoming rapid, his jaw tightening and teeth grinding together. "I, we're out of options, and time." His voice drops, sorrow filling his tone.
Remaining quiet, John passes his friend and opens the door for him, allowing Laszlo to walk in ahead. "Come," John eventually comments. "best be out of the cold."
Across the city, Cyrus answers a knock at your front door. "Miss Howard, how lovely to see you." Cyrus steps aside, allowing Sara in.
"Thank you, Cyrus. Is Y/n here?" She asks quietly, noticing the change in Cyrus' demeanour at the mention of your name.
Motioning through to the library ahead, Cyrus forces a small smile. "She's just in there, Miss Howard." Nodding in response, Sara steps forward, but Cyrus mutters her name. "I just ought to warn you," His voice remains hushed as Sarah turns back to face him. "she, well her condition is worsening with each day."
Trying to remain positive, Sara swallows the lump in her throat. "I understand." She answers and continues toward the library, though now feeling more anxious than a moment ago.
"Sara, is that you?" Sara hears you before seeing you.
As Sara turns the corner into the library, her heart drops toward the ground.
You're sitting in one of the plush ivy armchairs with a book on your lap. Yet, the bags beneath your eyes have darkened since Sara saw you last and without even realising it, your hands shake as you reach for the blanket draped over your shoulders.
Unsure what to say, Sara freezes in the doorway. Yet to her surprise, you scoff at her.
"Oh come off of it, Sara." You remark. "I'm dying did you hear? But don't worry, you won't catch it so come on in." Waving her over, your gentle laugh doesn't go amiss as your mind glosses over to your old life where death and dying were always a possibility if you left the compound.
Sitting down in the other armchair, usually reserved for Laszlo, Sara can't help but tense. "How are you fe-"
"Nope," You hold your hand up, stopping Sara mid-sentence. "I really don't want to have that conversation and tiptoe around everything, Sara." A heavy sigh leaves your lips as you look over to your friend, not able to avoid her trying to hold back a cry. "Anyway, did I ever tell you about my friends in the future?"
Wiping her eyes, Sara shakes her head. "Not fully," She starts. "but, but I'd love to hear more about them."
"Well, I guess I ought to tell you about Bucky first. God, where do I start on Bucky Barnes." You whistle and the book on your lap slips to the floor as you drift off into your memories with Sara listening intently by your side.
New York, 2025
Standing aside from the discussion between Strange, Bucky and Sam, Zemo cautiously watched.
"You're worried, aren't you?" Emilie peers from behind Zemo, moving to be alongside him.
Tensing, Zemo nods. "Are you not?" He retorts. "This is all so new and uncertain. I've learnt a lot about your people, about Y/n." Zemo says whilst Emilie rests her hands on her hips, noticing a slither of adoration in Zemo when he mentions your name.
"No, I have a feeling it'll work out in the end." Emilie states. "But you're worried about her, about Y/n coming back to this life." Daring to dig deeper into Zemo's mind, Emilie watches the internal battle play across his expression.
Moving further away from the trio, Zemo wanders outside to the open doors leading to a balcony. The crisp winter breeze was refreshing to the stuffy interior of the New York apartment.
Aware of Emilie by his side, Zemo allows his focus to blur. "Y/n, she saved my life you know." He chuckles, glancing to Emilie who nods, remembering their first interaction like it were yesterday.
"How can I forget?" She quips. "But it's more than just owing her a favour clearly."
"Yes," Zemo quietly admits, lowering his head toward the railings where his gloved fingers grip. "I'll never forget my wife, my leibling and the gift of a child she brought into the world. But I can also never forget the pain losing her brought into my life, something that I'll never be without." He explains, trying to remain composed.
"It's alright," Emilie mutters, resting her hand on his shoulder. "we all understand loss, Zemo." Looking behind her, Bucky has stepped away from the group and now leans just behind the doorframe. "Some more than others."
"But the truth is, I knew of the Avengers long before Sokovia. I, I've been watching, monitoring their team and that's when I first saw her." Zemo sighs, knowing the look of disgust that crossed your face when you first saw him compared to the disguised awe he had for you.
Now intrigued, Bucky resists the urge to edge closer and make his presence known. Though he's almost certain Zemo is already aware of someone, but who exactly he isn't sure.
"Her spirit reminded me of my wife when we were first together, so full of life and love. She had a fiery spirit likewise to Y/n, but my liebling lost that spirit and then I lost her." Zemo trails off, knowing he'll never be able to forget their last words before he left for work, only to return to a wasteland that he once called home.
"I'm sorry, Zemo." Emilie sympathies as best she can. "But this time, we won't lose Y/n, we'll find her."
Nodding, Zemo shrugs Emilie's hand from his shoulder and she retreats inside past Bucky. "It doesn't matter, I've already lost her to someone else."
Returning back home, it was still dark much to Lazlo's delight. He was welcomed by Stevie who held Laszlo in his entranceway longer than usual.
"Good to see you back, Sir." Stevie began, taking Laszlo's coat and scarf. "How's the weather out there? I've heard it's a nightmare!"
Humming, Laszlo notices the library door is ajar and a faint light illuminating through.
"Stevie, does my wife have company?" Laszlo asks quietly, noticing the instant change in Stevie's demeanour as the reply hovers from his parted lips.
Not waiting for an answer, Laszlo moves past the boy and toward the slit of light sneaking through the corridor and hovers beside it, listening to you conversing happily.
"-and I can't forget Zemo, god, he was a real piece of work." You scoff, causing Sara to chuckle under her breath.
"I take it you weren't close with him like the others?" She enquires, and you quickly shake your head.
Rolling your eyes, you think back to the brief interaction you two shared. "I, I saved him." You recall, remembering the fear in his eyes as you let the darkness take you, how he screamed your name with all his might.
Looking down, you notice goosebumps forming on your forearms.
"But, he, he deserved another chance at life. I, he lost his family, his home country and well," You trail off, uncertain where your sentence would end as you catch a shadow in the corner of your gaze. "he's in the past, or well future I suppose."
"I understand, Y/n." Sara clears her throat, catching sight of the shadow too and rises to her feet. "Thank you for the wonderful stories, I'll hopefully stop by soon if that's alright with you?"
"Oh, of course!" You smile tiredly, feeling the fog begin to cover your mind once more. "Good night, Sam." You mumble, only to see a flash of confusion cross Sara's face.
"Yes, good night Y/n." She forces a smile before leaving and nods to Laszlo, knowing he heard the mistake.
Picking up the book from the floor, you cough loudly. "You don't have to linger, Laszlo. It's rude to eavesdrop you know."
"I didn't intend to, my dear." Laszlo reasons as he walks in, the bags beneath his eyes darkening mirroring yours with each passing day and a frown becoming a more permanent feature, much to your dismay.
"There was something I wanted to talk to you about though," Taking the spot beside you, Laszlo's hand reaches for yours.
He notes how cold you feel immediately despite the blanket draped over you. Mentally he's been keeping note of your condition since the previous Doctor's visit and based on this, his heart can only sink further despite your encouraging bright smile.
"Laszlo," You tiredly sigh his name, gripping his hand tightly. "there's something I've not been entirely honest about, but before you get mad, allow me to explain at least?"
Unsure what could possibly be explained, Laszlo nods.
You take a quick glance toward the door, noting no shadows lingering thankfully and focus your attention back on your husband.
"Well, the night we shared our first kiss, I felt something in my body." You start, feeling Laszlo's fingers stroke over the back of your hand in comfort.
"And it wasn't just excitement, but it felt like power. The power I haven't felt in a very long time. It, it burnt me, coursed through my veins and I knew I would never leave here, that I'd stay here with you until our final days." Tears rise in your eyes at the thought of that day, the curse put on you turned into a gift, allowing you a second chance at life.
Lifting your hand, Lazslo runs his fingers over the scars on your forearms. He'd done the action countless times throughout the years you've spent together, but now you felt that power again. His eyes widen at the sight of a golden glow burn brightly beneath your skin and a swear to pass his lips.
"This, this cannot be." Laszlo mutters, looking up at you with amazement but a hint of fear too. "Y/n, I, I thought you couldn't-"
"I know," You admit. "but somehow, at that moment I could." A sad laugh falls from your lips as you look down at the glow, watching it spread to your palm and grow from your fingertips. "And I know I can do it again, I can create a portal and go back,"
Silence falls at your suggestion, but Laszlo's hand barely falters in yours.
"Not forever, Las," You reason, trying to search his gaze for any hesitancy. "just to help me get better. There's this place called Wakanda, their technology and understanding of science is so much more advance and then I'll come back, I promise."
Finishing your explanation you patiently wait for a response, but one doesn't seem to form from your other half beside you.
"Please say something, Laszlo." The whisper barely leaves you as it hangs before Laszlo, only for him to hum under his breath.
Laszlo eventually allows his shoulders to slump forward and his grip on your hand slips. "We made an agreement long ago, Y/n," Laszlo finally answers, now meeting your gaze. "don't make promises we cannot keep."
His hand falls back to his side as he exits the room, his walking stick slamming against the tiled flooring and silence encroaches on you once more with a heavy heart.
A single tear falls across your cheek and drops to your covered lap. You knew he wouldn't take the suggestion lightly, but his silence was always more painful than his response.
Moving from your seat despite the persistent drumming in your temples, you walk over to the small desk and open the drawer for some paper and ink.
"I know you're here somewhere," You mumble to yourself, fumbling around for the pot of ink refusing to show itself.
Yet, your fingertips land on something and you pause before dragging in forward toward the front of the drawer.
Shock takes over you momentarily as your eyes bore into the item, having long forgotten you kept it after all this time. "And here I thought I lost you," A chuckle sounds as you pick up your old phone, coated in a thick layer of dust. "I wonder if Starks tech lives up to the expectation of a long battery life, huh old friend?"
Much to your own surprise, the phone switches on revealing your lock screen.
Dropping the phone onto the desk, you muffle your sob with both hands covering your mouth.
It was of you and Bucky playing around with the shield before everything happened. You looked so happy, so young, so naive. And there was Bucky, still plagued by nightmares, but he too found a slither of hope in the Avengers, in your friendship.
Daring to delve further, you unlock the phone and open your camera roll.
Memories of everything flash to mind, but it's the most recent photo that draws your attention the most.
* Flashback - New York, 1896 *
"You useless thing!" You groan loudly at your phone, hitting the side as if it were to magically create a signal. "Yeah Tony, if only you could see your tech now, huh?" A mutter passes you as you look up to the ceiling momentarily.
John had guided you cautiously into Laszlo's office, still looking at you with a mixture of curiosity and fear. Then again, you would too wearing jeans and leather surrounded by petticoats and corsets.
"-I understand that it isn't an ordinary occurrence, but we can't simply abandon," Laszlo opens the door to his office and walks past you with John in tow, oblivious to your presence. "oh." He pauses, now taking notice of you standing uncomfortably by the window.
"Sorry," You wave nervously. "I can go wait outside if you two wanna talk about things, or I can just go and yeah," Your sentence trails off as Laszlo's eyes wander over you intently.
"There's no need, truly." Laszlo speaks up, ignoring the raised brow from John. "Please, make yourself comfortable Miss." He motions to the plush armchair whilst he remains standing beside John.
Taking a seat you can't help but sigh, elevating the heavyweight from your feet and briefly close your eyes.
"Do you even have a plan, Laszlo?" John lowers his tone.
Yet, John notices something he hasn't seen in a long time from his friend; a slight smile forming on his lips when he looks at you, curled up on an armchair.
"I will eventually." Laszlo quietly states, patting John's arm lightly. "Now, let's allow her some rest, she clearly needs it."
Listening to the receding footsteps you quickly lift your phone up, catching a photo of Laszlo just before he walks out of the room; still amazed at his resemblance to Zemo.
The Doctor senses your movement and glances back, seeing you holding something with a half-smile before lowering it back onto your lap. "Get some rest, Miss." Laszlo calls out, glad to see you nod and drift off.
Curling into yourself, your phone remains a distant thought now.
"Y/n?" Laszlo's hand rests on your knee, bringing you out from your own past as you try to focus on him in front of you. "My liebling, come, let's go to bed." He tries his best to help you to your feet with his good arm, but both of you falter many times before exiting the library.
"I'm sorry, Laszlo." You whisper once you reach your bedroom, the candles close to running out of wax creating a dull glow throughout the room. "I don't want to give up hope."
"Neither do I." Laszlo replies, blowing out the candles one by one until a single candle is left lit by your bedside.
Climbing into the sheets next to you, Laszlo embraces you in his arms. His breath fans across your ear as he kisses your neck lovingly, moving across to your cheek and finally your lips.
"I love you, Y/n. Whatever happens, just remember that, yes?" Laszlo mutters between chaste kisses, only for you to lift your hand up and pull him closer.
"Yes." You tell him before turning and blowing the candle out, allowing you both maybe one last night together.
IALT SERIES TAGLIST: (if you would like to be tagged let me know!) @zemosbaroness @fillechatoyante @country-cowgirl-101 @kpopnena @telesynths @thebookisbtr @mybisexualheartbeatsforzemo @ajeff855 @somethingthatsaysbubbles @fangirl-inthe-us @marchingicenotes7 @graniairish @lol-im-done @cinna-minseok @sapphiredreamer26 @swndmans @soxysarah92
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bolontiku · 15 hours ago
"The Silence Between Us"
Avengers AU - Chapter 4
Characters: Bucky, Reader, Steve, OFC!Emma
Posted: Oct 16th
A/N: this is the final chapter for these three. I love the way I end things. 🤣 everyone will probably hate me...
Also, this chapter kinda jumps around so sorry if it is confusing. 😣
WARNINGS: mention of blood loss, traumatic events?? BE WARNED IDK HOW TO TAG THIS EVEN
Like, Comments, & Reblogs are always appreciated and loved.
**Please Do Not Repost My Work**
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She watched as Steve wrapped his arms around you, chin dropping to the top of your head and eyes crinkling at the edges as you squirmed and struggled in his hold. Only letting go when you gave him a small squeeze in return. 
"Book boyfriend!!!"
"Pretty girl!!!"
It had been a surprise to find out that the two of you already knew each other. Pretty girl, what was that about?
Emma frowned.
She had worked so hard to be friends with you, you had always been so guarded, turning others down with just a look. Emma had been determined, she wouldn't give up, she couldn't. Others had told her Y/N was nothing but trouble, always messing with guys that didn't belong to her. She had broken up three relationships already. No, no one saw her with him and yeah he denied it of course he denied it. But everyone saw how friendly she was with him.
Emma had poked and prodded. She had gotten coffee and hugged and smiled, it had taken her time but then Y/N smiled at her. 
It had been worth it. 
Emma hadn't expected you to show up, but there you were, feet propped up in Steve's lap after a long day at the compound. Glancing at the TV she sighed, more Bob Ross. "Dinner?" 
You beamed at her, "let me help!"
Steve followed, Emma caught his elbow as he did, and he grinned at her. One hand slipping around her neck and pulling her in for a kiss. 
"Gross. Hey, when y'all gonna get married? Kissing is for old people!"
She laughed, "you kiss plenty!"
You gaped at her, "ma'am?! I am the picture of innocence!" 
Steve laughed.
"No… no, no! Don't do this! Y/N please!?"
"Emma what did you do?!" Steve yelled, shaking her slightly before pushing past her. 
The way he looked at you, Emma screamed, you weren't moving and the knife laid in the snow, red surrounding it. Red pooling under you, red all over her hands. 
Why wouldn't he look at her that way??
Emma couldn't stop screaming.
She just wanted him to look at her, when had that happened? When had he stopped looking at her?
Emma stopped outside the coffee room. 
"She's always hanging off him." 
There were a couple snickers, "if he were my boyfriend then there is no way I would leave her alone with him!"
"Betcha they are fucking"
Emma jumped as someone brushed by, the redhead stepping in and silencing all conversation as she grabbed a mug. "Funny how bitches will talk about a man they could never land… isn't that right Emma?"
She stepped in, the three women dropping their heads as they scooted around to escape the room. "Thank you."
Natasha stared at her as she made her own cup. "Steve's my friend," she shrugged and walked away. 
There was so much blood. Bucky pressed his hands over the wound. "Steve? Fucking leave her! We need to get Y/N to the compound! STEVE!!" he cursed as he pulled out his phone, blood smearing across it as he dialed and Tony answered. 
Your blood.
His hands shook. He couldn't breathe. He had seen blood before… why were his hands shaking?? It wasn't the first time he had had blood on his hands.
But it was your blood..
They were whispering again. 
Emma ignored it. Yet they didn't stop it. "He wouldn't do that!" She turned to them, "Y/N isn't like that. She's a good friend!" How many times had she said this? It didn't matter, she'd do it again. 
"Really? Where are they now?" "Aren't they a little too friendly with each other?" "Don't you worry?" "She touches him a lot." "I thought she was his girlfriend!" "Surprised to find out it was you."
Emma took in a breath. "You don't know him or her. I trust them. Love both of them. Maybe if you weren't so small minded and… and gross then you'd have better lives!" She stomped away, angry that she couldn't say anything better. Pulling out her phone she sent a text and got an answer almost immediately. 
Stevie: with Y/N at the pier. 
Steve. Get Emma. She's screaming.
You couldn't move. You needed to speak, needed them to understand, it wasn't her fault. No. It was always yours. 
"She's in shock-"
Someone get Emma…
"Y/N you are not allowed to do this! NO!" 
You felt bad, he sounded so… desperate as he shook you, large hands pressing against the wound. 
Bucky… please help Emma… she's screaming… please get Emma...
"Y/N-" his voice was shaking, why was his voi- ouch, it hurt. "Please?" His voice was low, close to your ear, "listen, I haven't said anything cause I didn't wanna push ya but I need ya to open your eyes-"
Push what? Bucky? What are you talking about? Emma. Bucky help Emma-
"C'mon princess, need ya to open yer eyes and swear to god above I will do anything you ask… just.. Just open your eyes, pleeease open your eyes…"
The pier. That meant fishing. Emma hated fishing but… 
It didn't take her long to get down there. She kinda rushed it. Not because she didn't trust either of you. She just wanted… to see… her boyfriend. 
Steve was busy with his fishing line, thick fingers easily untangling the mess before him and you, you sat off to the side with a smile on your face. Emma halted as you looked over, voices sneaking into her head. 
They were wrong. 
You weren't like that. 
Steve waved and she moved again, hurrying to wrap her arms around you quickly before moving to wrap herself around Steve. She had been right. 
You wouldn't do that. 
He wouldn't. 
She had been right. 
"Bucky should be here in a second," Steve managed before Emma was kissing him. He smiled at her, "everything alright?. He asked, expression a mix of curiosity and confusion.
Relief swamped her followed by guilt as she nodded quickly. She had thought for a moment… Emma shoved the thoughts aside as she ducked under Steve's hand squealing as he chased her with bait. 
She ignored how quiet you had become.
The flight took no time. Tony came with a medic crew. They moved you quickly, the plan was to get you back, the small medic crew managed to stop the bleeding.
Steve didn't like the way Bucky held onto you. The way he held your hand. That was his job, you were his best friend. His girl. 
He knew it now better than before. He didn't dare look at Emma. She had stopped crying his name on the flight back. 
Steve was home more, you didn't answer his calls or texts. He sought her out more, oftentimes their conversation steered towards you. He wondered if he had said something to offend you? Had he been a bad friend?
He said that his last shopping trip with you had ended in a small argument. It had been nothing really, he wouldn't tell her what it had been about. No matter how much poking and prodding, he just dismissed it, but the look on his face said it was definitely more than he was letting on.
The memory of you staring at the ring on your finger stuck in his throat. Steve wasn't sure what it was, he wasn't sure what he wanted, but he knew he needed to try. And in order to try to understand he would need to end one thing in order to even attempt the trying. He took a deep breath, "we should stop this, I need time… I need-"
"Stop this?" She heard wrong, he didn't know what he was talking about. Emma wrapped her arms around him, lifting her face to his, pressed kisses to it, which led to deeper kisses and more. She ignored his words, certain he didn't know what he was saying. There was no way he wanted to end things, it was only beginning. They had the rest of their lives to figure it out. This wasn't the end… 
Steve didn't think of you when he touched and kissed Emma. Not of you when he pressed between her legs. The way you looked with that ring on… what you might look like if he had you under him.
He laid in bed, arm draped over his face once she had fallen asleep. He felt bad, he hadn't been able to say no to her, it was the last time. She had to know.
Gis phone buzzed and he caught it before it woke her, his heart thudding loud against his chest as he saw who it was and he slipped out of bed answering it quickly.
".... Steve?" Your voice was slurred, still a little breathy and he could hear you shiver, it made his heart skip.
Emma woke to find him gone hours later. Where had he gone? Of course she knew, deep down she knew where he was, who he was with. Reaching over and grabbing her cell she sent out a text.
Bucky ran his thumb over your knuckles. 
He thought about the way you looked when he sat across from you and held a forkful of pancake up to your lips. He huffed a quick laugh, running his free hand through his hair and dropping his head. 
"You deserve better-"
Steve paused in the doorway before stepping in where Bucky could see him. "Doc says they kept her sedated due to the shock she was in," the memory of the way your lips felt against his own flashed through his mind. "Bucky- I love her."
He stood and glared at Steve, anger boiling his blood, "then how could you let this happen? Your girlfriend- her best friend is the reason she's laid up here!" 
Steve nodded and looked away, eyes rimmed in red. "I know I messed up, I made a mess of things, I was trying to figure it all out and… I guess I was a little late," he stepped towards you, hand falling on your covered feet. "That doesn't mean I didn't do it right. I broke up with her, Emma is not my girl… Y/N.. She means more to me than I ever knew."
Bucky bit down on his tongue, if he spoke now- he turned his head away from his best friend. Eyes falling on your face. How many times had he stared while you slept in his bed?
"I get that you feel some way about her, but I am not walking away. I am going to stay. Let her know how I feel. I need her to know."
"Pretty sure you made that clear back there," Bucky bit out harshly and a little bitterly. 
Steve smirked, "yeah, I… I couldn't stop myself."
Bucky took in a breath, "I ain't gonna give her up just so easily but she is gonna need some time. She's gonna need to heal."
Steve nodded, "whatever she decides."
".. Alright Princess…"
"I can't lose you-"
"... I love you, but couldn't you have left him to me?"
The ache in your chest was too much, you had given away too much of yourself. You moved to swipe at your eyes, but your hand was too heavy. Looking over you found deep blue eyes staring at you, Bucky's fingers tightening around yours.
"Hey there Princess," his voice soft, quiet, you briefly wondered where you were.
"Hey-" you caught a breath, looking down.
"Dr. Cho has some nifty gadgets, left you brand new," he said and scooted forwards on the seat.
Bucky looked away, jaw jumping as if he was holding back. Had it all been a dream? A terrible nightmare? 
"Can we go home?" He looked at you, a little shocked at the quiet of your voice, "Buck… I just… can we go home?" Your brows drew together, your throat tightened. You didn't want to deal with this. You were tired and wanted to sleep.
"If that's what ya want?" You nodded and he stood, pausing when you didn't let go. "Do you wanna wait?" He asked, thumb grazing over your knuckles.
"Steve?" Your grip tightened and you tugged at him. Bucky slid in beside you, tensing when you wrapped around him, face burying into his chest. "Hey… I'm sorry, shhh, we can go-" he breathed quietly, carefully rubbing your back. "I can take you home, pretty sure  you wanna sleep in your own bed now huh?"
"No-" you tightened your hold on him.
"No?" He asked, looking down at you.
You wanted to go back, back to pancakes, to books scattered everywhere, to a warm bed. To the comfortable quiet of his place. To the way he smiled at you. Your throat tightened and you thought of the way his lips felt against your own. His expression when he regretted it.
Bucky cried out when you shoved him, "hey!"
"I'm sorry!" 
What did you have to apologize for? And suddenly he realized what you had to be thinking. "No, hey, hey!" He struggled with you, his heart clenching as you sobbed, turning away from him. "No!" He growled tugging you close, "no, I'm sorry- you deserve the best and I took advantage-"
You stilled, what was he saying? "Bucky… I just need… I need-"
He didn't understand, your tears tore at his heart and all he could think of to do was hold you. So he did. He tugged you into his lap and held you tightly, refusing to let you go. "Hey there princess, I'm sorry, I'm right here. Gonna be right here for ya, it's gonna be alright. We'll figure it out. Shhh," he rocked you back and forth, one hand in your hair, the other wrapped tightly around your waist.
You softened in his hold. Bucky. Bucky. He was right here. He wasn't leaving you. You held on. Bucky had become so much more, he had become your constant, your anchor when everything was so fucked up. Calm in the turbulent sea of emotions that wanted to engulf you. Silence when you needed it.
Steve stood outside. He had paused in the doorway when you shoved at Bucky and he watched as Bucky dragged you into him, held on tight like he wanted to.
Your little sobs tore at him.
The fact that it was Bucky you held onto tore at him. 
His gut roiled. His heart sank.
He took a breath and stepped back. 
He needed and wanted you.
But you didn't need him.
He waited till you quietened before walking away.
The silence deafening.
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Coming soon....
The Grace in Syn
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Summary: (Steve Rogers x OFC Syn Lee) -
Steve Rogers is tired. Tired of fighting, tired of fame, tired of being Captain America and all the stress that came along with the title. He was burnt out and running from his problems, riding cross country on his motorcycle, looking for... something.
Himself. A life. A purpose. Something to put a spark back into his life.
As a single mom, Syn knows all about struggling through life. As a mom to a special needs child, she knows sacrifice and heartbreak. As the sister to a soldier who took his own life, she knows pain and can recognize the haunted emptiness of a broken soul when she sees it.
She doesn't know what deity or universal force brought the soldier to her door, but she's not letting another hurting soul walk out of her life without doing all in her minimal power to help him.
I do not tag. For notifications on the story, please follow it on AO3 once posted. An account is required to access my work.
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kinanabinks · 21 days ago
watch me cry • mob!bucky x reader
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request: can you write some with mob!bucky x best friend!reader where he makes her cry and they stop talking for awhile? please make it angsty!! [ anon ]
content warning: mob!bucky x best friend!reader, slightly insecure!reader, mob!steve x reader, slight coercion, smut (kissing, handjob), arguing, yelling, crying, heavy angst, violence, use of a gun, mention of blood and wound, eventual comfort and fluff.
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"Is he still talking to her?" You ask with a huff.
"Yup," Sam responds in a bored tone, scanning the magazine in his hands.
You bounce on your heels impatiently as you stare the black door down, desperately wanting to know what's happening on the other side of it.
"Won't make time go by any faster, standing here waiting," Sam mumbles. "I'll tell him to call you when he's done."
You're in half a mind to give in and leave, but your stubbornness takes over. "No. I'll wait." Admittedly, you're on edge. When you arrived, Sam informed you that Bucky was in a meeting with a woman he hadn't seen before. Too curious and nosy for your own good, you have to find out who she is as soon as possible.
Sam sighs and is about to speak again when the black door finally opens, making you grin. The woman walks out first, and when you see her face, your smile drops.
Carmen Vienne?
Throughout law school, you were mortal enemies. It sounds juvenile, but you still hate her to this day. She works for a law firm downtown, and any time your paths cross, hell becomes hotter.
When she sees you, she raises a thin brow before smirking. "Y/L/N. How are ya?"
With an eye-roll, you look away, unable to state at her for too long without feeling nauseous.
Bucky exits the room behind her, his face lighting up when he sees you. They share a goodbye and a quick hug, to your dismay, before Carmen leaves again, making you huff.
"Really, Buck?"
"Hi, fairy," He greets you, pulling you in for a tight hug. You don't hug him back, which he immediately picks up on. "What's wrong?"
Pulling away from him, you look him up and down suspiciously before realization hits you. "You slept with her?"
Bucky smooths down his messy hair, a coy smirk pulling at him lips. "That obvious?"
You hit his shoulder, pouting. "You know how much I hate her!"
"Relax, fairy," He says, pulling you into his office and shutting the door behind you. "We didn't fuck. She just... you know, went down on me."
"I hate you," You grumble, folding your arms across your chest. "You know what a bitch she is."
"I didn't mean for it to happen," He insists, taking your hands in his. "It was supposed to just be a professional meeting, and it got a little... out of hand."
Offended, you take your hands out of his. "You're hiring her?"
He nods, making your chest ache. "Just to take a look at things, make sure everything's clean."
"What the fuck?" You step backwards. "You needed a lawyer and you went to her? What the fuck is wrong with me?"
"It isn't about that," Bucky promises. "This has nothing to do with how good of a lawyer you are-"
"Bullshit!" You cut him off curtly. "You need legal help and you didn't come to me? What am I supposed to think, James?"
"I have always told you that I will never involve you in my work," He says gravely. "I'm not risking you losing your job and likely your license for me. Carmen is already a dirty lawyer - and I have no fucking problem putting her career and life at risk." His eyes soften and he steps forward, resting his hands on your shoulders. "I have never, and I will never put you at risk."
Letting out a deep breath, you frown. "She didn't have to suck your dick."
He snorts, rubbing his face. "Oh, God. I swear to you, fairy, I didn't plan on that happening. Love me?"
You still aren't completely happy with him, but you'll get your revenge. "Love you."
"And I love you more," Bucky replies, wrapping his arms around you and kissing the top of your head. "Lunch?"
"Yes, please," You mumble against his chest. "Somewhere expensive, because you're a dick."
He chuckles, stroking you back. "You got it, fairy."
While he leads you out the building, you pull out your phone, making sure he can't see your screen as you respond to Steve Rogers' text.
sorry for the late reply. dinner sounds good. pick me up at 8? x
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It feels surreal to be sitting next to the man Bucky has told you countless times to never go anywhere near, but here you are.
"I'm so glad you finally realized how magical the two of us could be together," Steve says softly, wrapping his arm around your shoulder. "You've been stringing me along for so long."
The dimly lit lounge is a little more intimate than you would've liked, but you're sure that more than one of Bucky's associates have seen you with Steve, which is exactly what you were banking on.
"Or maybe," You begin, playing with the straw in your drink. "I just ran out of ways to say no."
He chuckles, his eyes flickering down to your lips. "You know, it's funny. All this time, I've been begging for a chance to get you alone, and now that I finally have, I have no fuckin' idea what to say."
"So don't say anything," You tell him softly, moving a little closer. "Just kiss me."
Feeling like the cat that got the cream, Steve wastes no time and immediately places his lips on yours. The kiss is deep and slow, and his tongue pokes into your mouth as he cups your throat and pulls you closer. He takes your hand and places it on his boner, making you gasp.
Your heart races as he stuffs your hand down his pants and groans into your mouth, keeping his arm around your waist.
"That's it, baby," Steve mutters against your lips. "Make me feel good, that's a good girl."
You open your eyes and look over to the bar. There, you see one of Bucky's men, Peter, with his observant gaze on you. The booth you're in is dark, but it's evident that Peter can see your hand moving up and down in Steve's pants. It's a given fact that he'll immediately report this to Bucky - which is exactly what you want.
If he's gonna screw around with your worst enemy, you'll do the same with his.
"Keep going," Steve moans as you jerk him off, his cock twitching in your hand. "Fuck, baby, that's it."
Peter turns and leaves the lounge, making you smirk to yourself. You continue stroking Steve's dick until he sucks in a gasp and shudders, before his cum shoots into your palm.
"Oh, shit," He growls against your neck. "Cumming so fucking hard for you, baby."
You wipe the residue onto his boxers and pull out your hand. He gives you another kiss but you pull away before it can get intense.
"Let's get out of here," Steve mutters, zipping up his pants.
"Actually, I'm gonna head home," You tell him shortly as you stand up. "Thanks for dinner."
He looks baffled as you walk away, and a slight pit of regret builds up in your stomach as you realize what you just did.
Fuck. Bucky's gonna kill you.
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The next day, you leave work and go straight to Bucky's office. He sent you a text telling you to come see him and you know that shit is about to go down.
As you walk down the corridor, his men have their eyes on you, each of them staring at you with slight fear. They aren't scared of you, though- they're scared for you, because Peter Parker has a big mouth than runs on its own accord. Your heart races the closer you get to his office, but you know that you only brought this on yourself. Once you get to the door, you slowly push it open a few inches.
"Come in, Y/N," Bucky calls out, knowing that you're the only person in town who'd ever dare to walk into his office without knocking.
You push the door fully open and step in, keeping yourself calm with deep breaths. This will be fine. He'll be a little angry, but then you'll explain why you did it, causing him to apologize, and all will be well.
Bucky is sitting at his desk, wearing a black button-up shirt. His sleeves have been rolled up to his elbows and a concentrated look of anger dwells on his face. He says nothing as you walk over, standing behind the chair opposite him.
"Hi, Buck," You mumble, feeling your heart begin to race.
"All I need," He begins, his voice low and hard. "Is for you to tell me that he was lying."
You don't think he's ever been stoic towards you, and that makes you feel sick. "What are you talking about, Bu-"
He cuts you off by suddenly slamming his hands on the desk and standing up, a deathly glare in his eyes. "Don't you fucking play dumb with me now, fairy. Tell me that Peter was lying through his teeth about what he saw so I can rip his tongue out."
"Bucky," You breathe out, eyes wide. "You have to understand-"
"Tell me he was lying," He utters, his hands clenching into fists on his desk. "Tell me that you didn't have dinner with that bastard last night."
Deciding to hold your ground, and deciding that you have nothing to be afraid of, you straighten up and fold your arms across your chest. "Did Pete mention that I had my hand down Steve's pants, too? Or did he give you the PG version?"
You didn't think it was possible, but the anger on Bucky's face only intensifies. "That isn't funny," He mutters through gritted teeth.
"I'm not joking," You say with a shrug. "You can ask Peter if you want. I'm sure he enjoyed the show."
"What the fuck is your problem, Y/N?" Bucky asks you, seething.
"You are!" You exclaim. "How is it fair that it's one rule for you and another for me?"
"What are you talking about?" He yells.
"It's okay for you to fuck around with Carmen but I can't do the same with Steve?" You shout back, throwing up your hands. "Tell me how that's fair, James!"
"There's a big fucking difference between me getting involved with some bitch you don't like, and you getting involved with that vile motherfucker," Bucky claims gravely. "Do you realize how much danger you put yourself in?"
"Oh please, it was dinner and I'm a grown woman," You respond dryly with an eye roll.
"And he's a monster, Y/N," He tells you with fury in his tone. "How fucking dare you get involved with him after I've spent all these years protecting you from him?"
"How dare I? He didn't hurt me!" You exclaim. "I'm fine, aren't I?"
"He could have," Bucky insists furiously. "You have no idea what that prick is capable of. You think you're safe around men like me just because I've never hurt you? You are not fucking immune to becoming just another victim, Y/N."
"I can look after myself!" You insist sternly.
"No, you fucking can't!" He booms, hitting the desk again. "You're so stupid, you know that?"
Your heart clenches at his words and you take a step back. "Fuck you," You whisper, every inch of your skin feeling lit up with red-hot fear. Fear that Bucky's love for you is dying.
"I've told you time and time again not to go near him," He shouts. "Are you that fucking needy for attention that the second I give mine to someone else, you go looking for it from the first guy that offers you some?"
"Stop!" You cringe, looking down.
"Screwing around with him like a fucking slut," He rages, taking you aback. "You know how fucking embarrassing that is for me?"
You purse your lips together as your eyes well up with tears. This is it. He hates you. His love is dead.
"No, Y/N," Bucky mutters coldly. "You can't just cry your way out of this like you always do. Get a fucking grip and take some responsibility for once."
A weak whimpers leaves your mouth before you quickly turn and run out of the office, the tears hot as they stream down your face. On your way out, you pass Sam and Peter. Peter gives you a regretful look but you speed past him, too focused on your hurting heart to be angry at him right now.
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Two weeks. Two entire fucking weeks pass with no communication between you and Bucky.
You don't think you've ever spent 14 consecutive nights in your own bed without Bucky spooning you, and you absolutely hate it. It feels lonely to the point where it physically hurts.
None of your other friends can fill the gap he left. They don't know you like he does. They don't care about you like he does. They don't love you nearly as much as he does.
A part of you regrets the date with Steve, but another part of you knows that it truly was unfair for Bucky to have double standards. You couldn't let him get away it.
His words echo in your head every single day.
You're so stupid, you know that?
Fucking slut.
Take some responsibility for once.
What a fucking prick. God, you miss him.
A strange man has been standing across the street from your apartment. You aren't sure when he first arrived, but you noticed him just over a week ago. At first, you thought he was there to smoke - but now that he has spent seven nights in a row staring at your building, you realize there's something sinister at play.
When you look out the window and see him there again, you let out a groan. You know it's your apartment he's staking out - he's even followed you home from work, though you only noticed that earlier on today when you dropped your phone and had to turn around to pick it up. Who knows how long he's been tracking you?
You don't want to admit it, but you know it's your fault: you got involved with Steve Rogers, and now you're facing the consequences. He's probably keeping an eye on you to make sure you aren't with any other men - God knows how possessive men like him are. A small part of you fears that he's planning on killing you for blocking his phone number, which is why you decide to take a stance.
This is the mess you made. It's time for you to clean it up.
Grabbing the small gun Bucky insisted you keep in your bedside table, you put it into your purse and make your way outside. Once there, you see the man looking away as though to act casual and like he hasn't been stalking you.
You cross the road, keeping an eye out for any witnesses that may be around, before standing in front of him. He frowns, seemingly surprised by your presence.
"What do you want?" He asks you gruffly, raising a brow.
"Stay the fuck away from me," You utter lowly, keeping your hand wrapped around your gun in your bag. "And tell whichever coward sent you to come kill me himself."
It's also possible that one of Bucky's many other enemies are attempting to take you hostage as leverage, and you'd be damned if you prove Bucky right and aren't able to protect yourself.
When the man says nothing, you huff and push past him, planning to make your way to your friend's house a few blocks away just in case you really aren't able to protect yourself. Before you can get far, though, he grabs your arm and pulls you back. You immediately pull out the gun and shoot him in the foot, making him fall to the ground with a loud cry.
"You crazy bitch!" He yells, clinging to his foot. "Why the fuck would you do that?"
"I told you to stay away from me!" You shout, thankful for the silencer on the gun while praying nobody walks past. "Who sent you, huh?"
"Crazy fucking bitch," He whimpers, rocking back and forth.
You roll your eyes at him, shaking your head. "Don't fuck with me, alright? Do you know the name James Barnes? If I see you, or any of your friends, standing outside my home again, he will kill you - and that's only if I don't do it myself. Do you understand me?"
"Barnes is the one that fucking sent me," He reveals with a groan, his hands covered in blood. "He told me to keep an eye on you. I wasn't sent to hurt you."
His words take you aback. Oh.
"Shit," You whisper, quickly putting away your gun. "Oh, shit. Oh, fuck. I'm sorry. Come on; let's get you to the hospital. Shit."
Twenty minutes later, you're in the waiting area while Richard gets his foot fixed up.
"Come on," You grumble as the vending machine spits out your bill for the seventh time. "Just take my money and feed me, damn it."
"What have I told you about these shitty snacks?" A familiar voice rings out from behind you, making you jump. His ring-clad hand reaches out and he scans his phone on the card machine, paying for your shitty snack.
You lean down to pick up the candy bar before turning back to him. "Why buy it for me, then?"
Bucky lets out a sigh. "Because you always get what you want, anyway. And I like being the one who gets you what you want."
"Yeah, sure seems like it," You mutter bitterly, pushing past him. "Two fucking weeks, Buck."
"You blocked my number," He says, turning around to follow you over to the seats. "Do you realize how fucking insane that made me?"
"And you didn't attempt to contact me at all!" You exclaim stubbornly.
"Because I knew you were angry at me," Bucky claims as you sit down. "And frankly, I was fucking angry at you, too."
"So why send Richard to watch over me?" You ask with a raised brow.
He furrows his brows at you. "What? Just because I'm angry at you, I shouldn't care about your wellbeing?"
"Oh, please," You scoff. "You were just watching me to see if I went on any more dates with Steve."
Bucky rubs his face, exasperated. "I don't wanna argue with you about this any more, Y/N. Can you just admit that what you did was reckless?"
Letting out a long sigh, you can't help but nod. "I guess it was a little reckless. Can you admit that sleeping with that bitch Carmen was a bad friend move that hurt me deeply?"
He sits down next to you, resting his arm on the back of your seat. "I'm sorry, fairy. I should've been more aware of your feelings. I promise, I'm not seeing her again. And I hired a different lawyer."
"And?" You press expectantly.
"And... I love you?" He offers, before trying to wrap his arm around you.
You move a seat away from him, frowning. "You said some really horrible things to me, Buck."
He winces at the memory, a pained look growing on his face. "I am so, so sorry, fairy. I was angry, and I said things that I should never have said. Not to you. I didn't mean a single one of them- I was just pissed off, and I took it out on you, and I shouldn't have done that. The thought of you being in danger drove me crazy, baby. I can't handle the thought of you getting hurt."
You let out a shaky breath, looking down at the ground. "Seeing you with Carmen, I just... I realized that I'm gonna lose you one day, and that terrified me. I guess I just wanted to see if you were scared of losing me, too."
Bucky frowns, immediately moving to the seat next to you. "Woah, woah, woah, fairy, what's all this talk about losing each other, huh? You know you're never losing me, ever. And you know I'd chain you to a fucking radiator if you ever tried to leave me."
You laugh softly, shaking your head. "I just didn't like seeing you with her."
He pulls you into his arms, rocking you gently. "How about we stop seeing other people, hmm? Just for a little while?"
His words put you on edge. "What do you mean, Buck?" You ask him meekly.
"I mean, our last sexual escapades landed poor Richard in the emergency room," He says teasingly, before leaning closer to you. "So, how about we just stick with each other for a bit? I missed you like fuck this past fortnight. I never wanna do this life shit without you again."
Feeling warm in his embrace, you snuggle closer to him and smile. "That sounds good, Bucky."
"Yeah?" He asks, holding you tighter. "Just you and me?"
"Just you and me," You repeat with a whisper, wrapping your pinky around his.
He kisses your forehead, and then your nose, and then the corner of your mouth, lighting you up with the joy you've been missing out on for too long. "I love you, fairy," Bucky mumbles, stroking your cheek. "You're more important to me than anyone else in this world."
Opening up the candy bar, you offer him the first bite which he reluctantly takes. Taking a bite after him, you let the sweet chocolate relax you.
You rest your head on his chest, the two of you staying like that while you wait for Richard to be wheeled out of surgery. All is well.
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also, if you are willing and able, i would appreciate if you bought me a kofi - even the smallest of donations helps me out so much! ❤
bucky masterlist
hi! i no longer have a taglist, but if you follow @kinanabinksupdates and turn on notifications, you'll know when i post 🥰
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buckybarnesthehotshot · 2 months ago
Keeping Up With The Avengers I: Behind the Scenes (Avengers x Reader)
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|main masterlist|
summary: The Avengers get their own reality show
word count: 4333
a/n: bold’s the confessionals, and i’m opening a taglist for this too 
warnings: Reality TV, some references, swearing, the accords, this isn’t proofread
          “Wait, what’s this for again? Like why do we have to do this?” y/n questioned as two of the crew members made attempts to help her hook the mic up to her clothes.
         “Hi, I’m y/n l/n, I work as a technician of sorts for the Avengers…wait I’m not a technician,” y/n chuckled awkwardly, turning to face the crew bundled up behind the camera, “Can we start that over again? No? M’kay, hi, I’m a hacker with cool laser blasters occasionally.”
        “They said we need people to related to us more,” Clint responded, adjusting his own mic pack which had been concealed under his clothing, “Whatever that means.”
         “Who’s they?” y/n questioned, her brows furrowing in confusion.
          “I don’t know,” Clint mumbled, shrugging as he looked through the fridge for a carton of juice.
          “I’m Clint Barton, I used to work for SHIELD, I’m a highly trained spy, but I used to work for the circus, and I have really great aim,” Clint smiled proudly into the camera.
          “This isn’t a job interview, Clint!” Natasha’s voice was heard off screen as Clint looked away from the screen and towards somebody behind the camera.
          “Yeah, I knew that.”
        “Oh, okay,” y/n shrugged, turning to the sound guys who were having trouble hooking her mic pack to her clothes, “Would it be better if I found one of the earring mics and hooked that up to the cameras or whatever you guys are doing? I feel like it would be easier for all of us here.”
          “If we’re doing a reality show, what would our opening scene even be?” Natasha questioned, making her way to the pair, taking a bite from an apple she snatched off the fruit bowl on the counter.
          “I’m Natalie Rushman, and the less you know about me, the better…wait, I can’t lie on this? If you wanted me to be honest, you should’ve hooked me up to a polygraph,” the redhead huffed, turning her attention back to the camera, “I’m Natasha Romanoff and my job’s basically being secretive.”
           “This, I suppose?” Loki shrugged, appearing out of thin air on the kitchen counter in a green light.
           “Can you stop doing that, that’s freaky,” Clint exclaimed, nearly spilling his orange juice on the raven-haired god.
          “I’m Loki of Asgard—yes, the same Loki from New York, and I apologize for that. Was that convincing enough for you lot? No?” Loki huffed, frustrated at the producers and the Avengers’ public relations agent, “Okay, well, I’m on Midgard to assist on a few of the Avengers’ missions to make up for the damages I caused, so nobody has to worry about another alien army.”
         “I feel like this would make a dumb introduction scene,” y/n muttered.
          “I think this is something we all have to go along with, y/n,” Steve insisted, a nervous smile on his face as he adjusted the mic hooked to the collar of his shirt. All this reality TV stuff heavily reminded him of his time parading around in the bright blue costume in the 40s.
          “Really? You’re going along with this too?” Natasha questioned, staring at Steve in disbelief as she too was getting her mic pack adjusted like the others in the room.
         “How do I do this? Oh, I just introduce myself?” Steve questioned, turning to one of the producers, “I’m Steve Rogers, you guys probably know me as Captain America, and I like to go out on runs in the morning.”
           “This must be serious if Cap’s agreeing to go along with this, right, Buck?” Sam questioned, turning to Bucky who stood next to him in the doorway.
           “I still don’t like this,” Bucky muttered quietly, his voice barely audible to the cameras as he and Sam didn’t have their microphones hooked to them.
          “I don’t recall you enjoying anything we were meant to partake in as a team,” Loki chuckled as Bucky only gave a small nod in response.
          “Hi, I’m Sam Wilson, former air force, some people call me the Falcon—it’s a pretty cool superhero name—and when I’m not working with the Avengers, I work with the VA to help counsel some of our veterans who suffer from PTSD,” Sam smiled proudly into the camera, proud of what he’s done for people.
          “I’m James Buchanan Barnes, people here just call me Bucky and some other nicknames I never approved of—please, don’t do the same thing they do, and I’m over a hundred years old,” Bucky grinned into the camera.
           “Are we all just going to show up in the kitchen one by one?” Clint chuckled as Sam and Bucky made their way onto the chairs surrounding the table.
           “I guess so,” Natasha chuckled, “Also, didn’t Tony call us all in here? Where the hell is Stark?”
            “Right here,” Tony smirked proudly, walking into the room and theatrically pulling his shades away from his face, then looking around the room in disappointment, “Damn it, not everyone’s here? My entrance was wasted.”
           “Serves you right for trying to rig us with mics in the middle of the day,” y/n mumbled to herself, making her way towards the counter where Loki seated himself onto.
           “I’m not trying to rig you guys with—didn’t I already explain this to you?” Tony huffed, his tone similar to that of an exasperated father, worn out from caring for his children—in this case, those children were the Avengers.
         “You know who I am,” Tony winked into the camera, “Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist, and Iron Man.”
         “What? Did we ruin your entrance?” Wanda chuckled, her accent faint, almost as though to imitate something her late brother would say. Wanda walked into the kitchen arm-in-arm with Vision who chuckled faintly at Wanda’s taunts.
          “Hi, I’m Wanda Maximoff, I’m Sokovian, and y/n says I do weird and cool things with my hands,” Wanda shrugged, leaning into Vision’s side. The pair was allowed to do their confessionals together as Vision wasn’t technically human and Wanda insisted she should be there to guide their confessionals—she knew Vision was intelligent enough to do these on his own, but she wanted to have him around for her confessionals.
          “I’m the Vision, Wanda over here and a few other Avengers call me ‘Vis’ at times, and I don’t think there’s much I can tell you about me. I haven’t been on this planet long,” Vision shrugged, earning a small chuckle from Wanda.
          “As a matter of fact, yeah, you did,” Tony scoffed, seemingly annoyed at the pair, “Where the hell is Banner?”
         “I saw him upstairs at the lab,” y/n explained.
          “And you didn’t think that maybe you should call him down here?”
          “I told him to come down. It’s not my fault he’s busy.”
           “You guys don’t really need to argue, I’m right here,” Bruce laughed, walking into the room, still in his lab coat.
           “I’m Bruce Banner, I’m a doctor, and some people think I have bad anger issues, which is fair. I do have a tendency to turn green and smash things when I’m mad,” Bruce smiled bashfully, “Tony said to share an interesting fact about me, so I have seven PhDs.”
          “Why do I feel like we’re missing somebody?” Sam questioned, peering around the room, looking through the people in the room.
           “Rhodey’s out due to him having to work with the military,” Tony explained.
          “No, we’re definitely missing somebody,” Sam shook his head again, trying to recount who else lived in the Avengers compound.
         “Well, my oaf of a brother’s nowhere to be seen, as usual,” Loki perked up at the idea of humiliating Thor, earning an elbow to the ribs, courtesy of y/n.
         “Behave,” y/n warned him.
          “Must you keep doing that, brother?” Thor’s booming voice echoed off the walls of the room as he entered the kitchen, confused at the two of the crew members approaching him with a mic pack.
          “Oh, Thor, let them strap the mic on you,” Bruce, who’d been getting his mic adjusted, told Thor, earning a nod from the god.
         “I am Thor of Asgard, but of course, a lot of Midgardians know me already for my heroic…heroism whenever the time comes to save the world,” Thor smiled brightly into the camera. One could swear there was a quiet thud in the background of this recording, almost as though somebody fainted.
          “Okay, we’re all here. To anyone who isn’t wearing a mic, please do, and I guess we start filming the show in a few minutes,” Tony spoke clasping his hands together, “Which should be plenty of time for me to leave this room and redo my entrance.
        “Actually, we started rolling a while ago, is that okay?” one of the producers questioned, earning a small frown from the billionaire.
        “Oh. That works too,” Tony mumbled, disappointed that he couldn’t make another grand entrance for the cameras when they started rolling.
         “We’re doing this to show another side to the Avengers,” Sam explained, seemingly excited for the opportunity to showcase what the Avengers are like as a unit.
         “We need people to trust us and to do that, we decided to show everybody what we’re like when we’re not out saving the world, or doing anything major,” Steve spoke sternly into the camera, a smile still on his face.
           “We’re doing this because we feel like people will really be able to connect and relate with at least one member on the team,” Natasha gave a warm—pretty fake—smile into the camera.
          “I’m supposed to say something about the show? Well, what did Nat say?” y/n questioned, her brows furrowing before she scoffed, “She said that? Right, because there’s nothing more relatable than two literal gods, a telekinetic, an android, two fossils people call super soldiers, a military man with these really cool wings, a billionaire, a quiet scientist with severe anger issues, and a cool hacker.
         “Why are we in the kitchen, again?” Sam questioned, turning to Tony with a confused expression painted on his face
         “We’re going to have lunch. Together. As a team,” Tony smiled, confusing everybody else in the room. There was never a time the team, meaning everyone collectively, ate together in the compound. To them, it was unheard of.
        Sure, there were the times when the team would go out to restaurants as a whole, but those meals never seemed to work out too well. Everyone else just opted to break off into smaller groups or pairs whenever it came to shared meals.
        “But…why?” Bucky’s brows furrowed.
          “Maybe because we’re taping the first episode of the show?” Tony drew out his tone, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
          “Last I checked, this was a reality show, Stark. You can’t script a get-together,” Natasha pointed out as Tony rolled his eyes in annoyance.
            “Yeah, but I can call team lunches, can’t I?”
         “Not when there’s no food,” y/n huffed, making her way onto one of the seats surrounding the big table.
         “I don’t like lunches with the team,” Bucky spoke into the mic, a calculating expression on his face, “I don’t have anything against anybody on the team, but whenever we have a meal together, it just feels like there’s too many people.”
          “No, I have food for you guys to eat,” Tony scoffed, “FRIDAY, bring in the food.”
          At that command, a barrage of shorter flat-headed robots rolled into the room, all of them having trays of food on top of them. The mood in the room changed up quickly at the sight of the food. For a unit of powerful and impactful individuals, swaying them with food was pretty easy.  
         “Nothing about this Meet the Robinsons shit is relatable, let’s be honest here,” Clint spoke into the camera, scoffing at the fact that he had to do these confessionals at the end of the day. Seriously, weren’t confessionals filmed when taping for the show was wrapped up?
        “You have robots here to deliver us…takeout?” Sam questioned, watching as the robots made their way to the table as a slightly taller robot began setting the table up for their meal.
         “Yes, and?”
         “You know, you could’ve just taken us to a restaurant if you wanted to,” Sam chuckled, “Not that I’m complaining.”
         “You guys can never decide on what to eat and end up taking forever. So, I got takeout from almost any restaurant you could think of,” Tony smirked, clearly pleased with himself at how he got everyone to come to a compromise without even discussing food.
          “So, we shall feast on the speedy meals,” Thor grinned, eyes growing wide in excitement at the sight of all the food being laid out onto the dining table.
          “Brother, I believe the term is ‘fast food’ rather than speedy meals. You really must catch yourself up on these Midgardian terms rather than making yourself look like a fool,” Loki scoffed, moving off the counter, dragging y/n with him onto some seats at the table.
          “Oh, and you’re so well-versed in Midgardian culture, aren’t you, brother?” Thor smirked, almost as though to challenge Loki.
          “Considering I have nothing better to do on this planet than learn about their language and slang, yes, brother. I’d like to consider myself an expert of sorts when it comes to the terms of Midgard,” Loki grinned.
          “He has Sam, Bucky, y/n, and I to thank for that,” Wanda smiled proudly into the camera, “I don’t know how, but we found a way to form this friend group, I guess. It’s kind of been our group’s main thing. y/n taught me of how being an Avenger works, we taught Vis more about what it means to be human, Sam brought Bucky into our group so we could help him get reacquainted with times, and we still aren’t sure how Loki was thrown into the mix, but it’s pretty fun.”
         “Can you guys stop arguing for one second? I’m trying to scout out the food,” y/n huffed, getting up from her seat and glaring at the Asgardian gods.
         “My apologies,” both of the Odinsons muttered as Thor made his way into a seat too with Loki relaxing into his chair, not making any other attempts to challenge Thor to a battle of wits.
        The Avengers began getting into their respective seats—of course, they didn’t exactly have specific seats meant for them as dining as a group was a new dynamic for them, but they didn’t take long to settle into seats near the people they enjoyed communicating with—as the food was set in the center of the table.
         The moment everyone was seated at the table, everything just clicked. In a way, it was a sense of family and domesticity for a team of people who lacked most of that growing up. It was a welcome change; to just eat lunch together as a unit, conversing with one another, bringing up whatever topics they wished to bring up
        “I know we don’t eat lunch together often, but I think this is nice,” Steve admitted, a small smile finding its way to the blond’s face.
         “I know, look at us, getting along for once,” Bruce chuckled as he began to take bites out from his food.
        “I mean, I don’t think we’d fight as often if two leader figures could stop arguing for once,” Clint muttered, glaring at both Steve and Tony jokingly.
         “It was one time, guys,” Tony rolled his eyes.
          “It wasn’t just one time. You guys bicker all the time, and the one time you’re talking about is what happened with the accords. You call that one time, we call that the group getting a divorce,” y/n shook her head at the memory of the accords. Luckily for her, she wasn’t a superpowered person who did amazing things. No. At the time, the world only knew her to be a hacker; the guy in the chair.
        “Yes, but we’re all back together now, aren’t we?”
         “To be fair, it took a universal threat for the team to get back together,” Loki chimed in, a sly grin making its way to his face. He knew much about the accords as the group he was adopted into—Sam, Bucky, y/n, Vision, and Wanda—did their best to explain the entire history of the team to him so he wouldn’t feel alienated. It gave him a bit of an ego at times.
         “Whose idea was it to give Reindeer Games all this information?” Tony huffed, tired of the god chiming in just to smite whoever he was interrupting.
           “It could’ve been anybody here,” Wanda shrugged, making eye contact with Sam and y/n who sat parallel to her almost as though to tell them to keep quiet about the situation.
           “There’s a lot of people on the team, Stark. Anybody could have told Loki about Germany,” Sam chimed in, holding in a chuckle.
            “That or he checked the internet,” y/n coughed out as all eyes turned to her, “Please, your fight or argument or whatever was all over the internet. It’s how I felt like I was in the loop of things without going out and fighting Nat or Tony.”
            “I was the one who put it all on the internet,” y/n admitted with a shrug, “I was live streaming the whole thing from this anonymous account from a cloaked Quinjet. Not sure if that is something I was supposed to do or admit to, but I did it.”
          “I doubt my brother knows how to use this interweb—”
          “Internet,” y/n cut Thor off.
          “Yes, well, believe it or not, I can be tech savvy too, brother,” Loki scoffed, pulling out a cellphone and browsing the web for the video of the Avengers in Germany, “See? I found it all on my own.”
         “He has me to thank for that,” Vision claimed, proud of how he just knew how to work any machine. There were times when he was able to help out both y/n and Bruce in the lab whenever they were in need of advice or guidance.
         “I must say, though, I’m proud of you for adapting so well to Midgard,” Thor gave Loki a proud smile as the brunet’s defenses fell for a second at the genuine expression on Thor’s face.
          “Thank you,” Loki mumbled, poking away at his food with his fork.
          “You know Thor’s actually trying with you, right?” y/n whispered, leaning over Loki’s shoulder, “Wanda can read minds and she says so too.”
           “Even if I do end up getting along with Thor, what happens then?” Loki questioned as quietly as he could so he wouldn’t need to draw the attention of the others. Before responding, y/n slipped her hand under the table, taking Loki’s hand in hers, placing a device the size of a button in his hand and shutting his fingers tightly around the device before squeezing an identical device she held in her hands.
          “Before you ask me anything, it’s a device that shuts down the mic as long as you’re keeping pressure on it. I don’t want anybody on TV hearing this conversation,” y/n explained, earning a nod from Loki, “But dude, don’t you want that kind of stability in your life? Adopted or not, Thor’s the only family you have left, and it’s obvious that he still cares about you as a brother.
          “That’s fair, but who am I without the whole rivalry with Thor? Without the banter?”
           “You’ll literally still be Loki, one of the cool kids,” y/n winked, motioning towards Wanda, Bucky, Sam and Vision, the other people in their group, “So, yeah, I think you should make up with Thor, new year, new you and all that shit.”
            “y/n, we’re in the middle of the year,” Loki chuckled, earning a shrug from the hacker.
           “And that’s your excuse for why you won’t make amends with Thor?”
           “Well, no, but—”
           “See? Problem solved,” y/n grinned proudly as Wanda chuckled, most likely using her abilities to listen in on the two.
       Maybe whispering wasn’t such a good idea as both Loki and y/n were probably heard by Steve, Bucky, and Wanda as they were all enhanced. Wanda probably told Vision, based off the way he stared at them, Bucky obviously told Sam based off the way both men sent smiles their way, and Steve…well, he didn’t seem to be doing anything about it.
          “Anything funny you wanna share, Wanda?” Tony questioned jokingly as Wanda’s eyes grew wide like a deer caught in headlights. Identically to a student who’d gotten caught talking to their seatmate, Wanda’s lips pursed as she shook her head.
          “Any interaction between y/n and anybody’s automatically hilarious for me,” Wanda giggled, earning a nod from Vision.
          “She just makes these hilarious, uncalled for one-liners or remarks whenever you converse with her,” Vision explained, a small grin of amusement on his face.
        Slowly, the others started leaving the table, stuffed with fast food, to return to whatever it was they were doing. Before Tony could get up and leave, though, he was stopped by Bucky.
         “If we wanted to leave the compound, would the camera crew have to follow us around?” Bucky questioned, turning to look over to Tony.
         “Well, yeah. There are already some crew members designated to follow you guys,” Tony explained, earning a nod from Bucky as he tried to process that information.
            “This reality TV shit feels weird,” y/n mumbled, earning a nod from both Sam and Bucky.
            “When I was younger, I wanted to be on camera and act,” Wanda confessed, earning a nod of encouragement from y/n, “I don’t think this is what I had in mind.”
            “At least we’re interesting, though,” y/n smirked as Bucky broke out in a fit of loud laughter.
            “So, you think the cameras are here because we’re interesting?”
             “Yeah, duh.”
             “I still am not in favor of this idea,” Loki scoffed, “Seriously, I thought reality shows involved scripted plotlines and overacted fights.”
            “Shut up, you know you love watching the Kardashians with me,” y/n frowned, earning a chuckle from everyone else in the room, “Speaking of, movie night later?”
           “Why?” Wanda questioned, “Didn’t we watch after the mission the other day?”
          “Yeah, but if we have another movie night, they can’t record us or the due to copyright reasons,” y/n shrugged as laughter from even the crew echoed off the walls of the kitchen. y/n had no idea why they found it amusing that she was trying to sabotage the whole project—at least for the parts of the show where she was involved.
         “Why are you so against this whole thing? You’re already trying to sabotage the show and we’re at least ten minutes into the show after editing,” Sam questioned, genuinely concerned at why y/n was trying to hard to avoid having to appear on TV, something she often joked about.
          “I’m introverted?”
          “That’s not true,” Wanda shook her head.
           “I don’t know, it kind of feels like an invasion of privacy when you think about it. Also, what if people don’t end up liking who we actually are,” y/n scoffed, a bitter reminder of the accords embedding itself in her head, “And what if they make another rule of reform. I don’t want another clause added to my contract just so the government can control whatever skills I have. My brain’s too complex to be put in the hands of the government.”
            “I don’t think that’s how the accords worked when applied to people with your skillset,” Sam’s brows furrowed, “Wait, the accords applied to you?”
           “y/n doesn’t go out in combat much, she stays behind the scenes more, so finding out the accords applied to her too’s pretty heartbreaking to me,” Sam frowned into the camera, sympathy for the woman evident in his voice, “I know y/n’s capable of a lot, but having her tied to the Accords is terrible.”
           “It did, for some time. The government thought it would be great to put my hacking skills to use, which nearly bordered on the whole free will thing because I was threatened with arrest whenever I didn’t hack what the government wanted me to,” y/n explained, “Then, I got a lawyer to somehow sever whatever agreement there was between me and the government, then I took a website designer job for a while, so yeah, the accords aren’t fair and I’m scared that if any of us fuck up at being the Real Housewives of the Avengers Compound, we’re fucked.”
       “I feel like the time of the Accords was terrible for us all. It was the downfall of the team as a unit. Now, after the shit that went down with Thanos, I feel like the team is trying to mend that, but I do feel like we never really addressed it, you know?” y/n frowned, tears forming in her eyes, “When the Accords came into effect, I really felt like I was having my family torn away from me. I just felt really guilty about not being able to do much. I mean I did as much as I could to throw them off the others’ scent, but that was all I could do.”
          “I don’t think they can bring back the Sokovia accords,” Vision chimed in, “For starters, we’ve gone beyond the need for such. After none of the others were captured when they were on the run, I don’t think it would be wise for them to try arresting Avengers again.”
          “Especially with what happened with Thanos. Had there been less time to gather the Avengers together, there would be no way to unite against the mad titan’s army,” Loki added, earning a nod from the others.
           “Why am I the only one who broke down on the first episode? This sucks,” y/n huffed, wiping away the few tears that found their way into her eyes.
           “And that’s the vulnerability the audiences are looking for!” Wanda exclaimed as y/n snorted, understanding the reference a bit too much.
a/n: i dunno if i wanna pair y/n off with someone yet
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jtargaryen18 · 6 months ago
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Part 1: Hidden Gems
Series Masterlist
Words: 3.1k
Pairing: Mobster Steve Rogers x Mobster daughter reader
Warnings: References to mafia families. References to arranged marriage. Coercion. This is a dark fic. Please read responsibly.
Disclaimer: The author of this work claims no ownership of characters aside from the reader, and original secondary characters mentioned. This work is not intended for those under the age of 18 due to explicit sexual content and darker themes. By reading this work or any works on my blog (jtargaryen18), you agree that you are at least 18 years of age. I do not consent to have my work hosted on any third party app or site. If you are seeing this fanfiction anywhere but archiveofourown and tumblr, it has been reposted without my permission.
Summary: For @alexakeyloveloki. Your father is the head of one of the most powerful crime families in Boston but he’s protected you from that life. In your quiet home outside the city, you’ve been cared for and protected. When the desires of a more powerful man with the will to dominate bursts into your life, all your illusions are shattered as he comes to claim what is his.
SR: Dinner tonight at my place. 9 PM. Dyson will bring you to me.
Your heart slammed in your chest on seeing that text message. Your time was up. Your mind scrambled to think of what you could do to get out of this. How could you escape him?
SR: Don’t make me come looking for you.
The warning was clear, and you knew you weren’t brave enough to run.
Your mother had tried to escape “the families” when your brother was little, and you were a baby. In an effort to retrieve all of you, your father’s men caused an accident. Your mother had been driving too fast to get away on an icy road.
You were the only one to survive the crash that day at six months old.
You father never remarried and never had more children. He saw to it that you wanted for nothing as you spent your life at one of his homes just outside of the city, away from his men and his illegal activities. Away from what your governess had called a mafia lifestyle.
Your father was the head of an old and powerful crime family in Boston.
He visited you sometimes. Not often. Too many hours and too much alcohol diminished his looks over the years. Even so, he was still an impressive man and commanded the complete respect of his men.
You had tutors for school, the arts. You could play piano and studied ballet. At least once a month, you got to travel to New York City to see Broadway shows, the ballet, visit museums. You always had to travel late at night. Always with your father’s scary men lingering in the background. Terrifying men with hard eyes filled with millions of secrets. Your father’s secrets.
Secrets you never wanted to know.
But none of them, not your father or his men, scared you as much as Steve Rogers.
You first met the most powerful man in Boston on your eighteenth birthday.
Steve Rogers ripped a hole in the safety of your life when he stormed into your home that day with no warning. You were there having cake with the few friends you were allowed to have, mostly the kids of your tutors and then only the girls were allowed to attend.
Stormy blue eyes scanned the group of you. Steve Rogers was tall with shoulders as wide as church doors. His hair was dark gold, the color of old coins, swept back from a face that belonged on a matinee idol, not a mobster. His beard, a shade darker than his hair worked with the dark suit he wore to give him a polished look.
But like your father, he was a mobster. Also like your father, he was obviously someone very important.
In another place, another time, you would have found him devastatingly handsome. What you saw that day? A handsome savage in a suit, barely restrained.
His scowl had you cowering among your friends. The man’s energy, frustration and rage, rolled off him in waves. Instinct had you trying not to draw attention to yourself, hoping he’d leave as quickly as he arrived.
Steve’s gaze roamed over the group of you, always coming back to you. Rich color darkened his face, made you wonder what he was so upset about. Why was he there?
An older man with dark eyes and a heavily-lined face came up to stand by his side. He looked your group over too before his gaze settled on you. Then he pointed a single, thick finger in your direction.
“That’s her,” the man muttered. “Spitting image of her mother at that age.”
What was this?
Ms. Healey’s heels clicked up the hall as she took in the scene frantically, her eyes wide in alarm.
“Excuse me, sir,” your governess said with no small amount of hesitation. “Why have you barged into our home?”
Steve’s gaze didn’t move from you. “Here to prove someone lied to me,” he told her.
Ms. Healey didn’t appear to know what to say to that.
Steve called you by name. That’s not a good sign. “Come here.”
You rose from the dining table. What else could you do? The fear you felt showed on your friends’ faces as you made your way around them to stand in front of the man. Ms. Healey rushed to your side, wrapping an arm around your trembling form.
“Sir, you have no right,” Ms. Healey’s voice was high and thin. “I’ll n-need you to leave… Or I’ll call the police.”
A corner of his mouth curved up. “You know who I am. You know that won’t do you any good.”
Her arm tightened around you. Her lack of answer indicated that she very much did.
“I just want a word with her in private,” Steve told her, his gaze still on you. “Five minutes.”
Now that he sounded more reasonable, Ms. Healey sounded a little more like herself. “She’s a sheltered young lady. Very sheltered. I can’t allow that.”
His smirk grew. “Yeah, you really can. Because that’s what’s going to happen.”
Ms. Healey gave it one last try. “How can you barge into her father’s house like this? Isn’t it disrespectful to treat his daughter this way?”
The dark swirl of emotions in those blue eyes filled you with dread as his gaze roamed over you possessively.
Steve chuckled, a deep, humorless sound. “I’m the one who has been disrespected here. Her father lied to me. Been lying to me for years. And now? I’m here to get a good look at what’s mine.”
Marching in your direction, Steve’s huge hand wrapped around your upper arm and he pulled you out of her grasp, out of the room.
He led you to your father’s study. Well, the study he used when he stayed there to visit with you. Maybe a few days each year. Steve seemed to know exactly where it was. Pulling you into the room, he shut the door firmly.
You stood there trembling, feeling like a fool as the imposing man walked a circle around you, assessing you.
“Show me the scars from the accident,” he said abruptly.
You didn’t know what to say to that. “I’m sorry?”
Anger flared in his eyes, but he didn’t seem surprised by your reaction.
“The accident that killed your mother and your brother,” Steve explained. “That you survived as a baby… I was told the accident left you scarred... Horribly disfigured.”
It was the first time you’d heard that. You had no visible scars from that trauma. Your heart was flying. “W-who said that?”
“Your father,” he said tightly, lips pressed into an angry line.
You shook your head in denial. “I don’t understand.” You inched away from him. “Why would he say that?”
Another dry huff of laughter. His hands were on his hips as he shook his head.
“To keep from honoring an agreement he made with my father when you were born,” Steve told you, starting to walk around you again. “You see, your father owed him a debt. And all my father asked for in payment of that debt was for your brother to marry my sister Natasha and for you to marry me when we all came of age.”
Surely your father hadn’t agreed to that.
“H-how did that… repay your father?” you asked quietly.
“It would merge our families,” Steve explained, pausing before you. “It would position my family to take the reigns as the head family.”
All you could do was stare at him like a clueless wonder.
“You don’t understand any of this, do you?” Steve said bitterly. “You know your old man’s business, yes?”
You nodded. You knew he was mafia.
“You barely see him,” Steve told you. “I’ve had this house watched for weeks and your father’s been here to see you exactly four hours.”
Normally, it didn’t bother you that you didn’t see your father that often. He was busy. He worked hard. You understood that.
Somehow, having someone else point out how little time your father spent with you made you feel like a speck of dirt, unloved.
You flinched when you felt his fingers at your chin, urging you to look up. To look at him. You stepped back.
Steve’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “About three weeks ago, you went into New York City. I was shocked when my men reported that. Your father claimed you never left the house because of your… appearance.”
Realization dawned in your mind. That’s why your father kept you here. That’s why he hid you away. He didn’t want you to marry Steve Rogers? He must have a good reason.
“My men followed you into the city.” Steve stepped closer. “They claimed the girl that left with your governess and your father’s men was… remarkably beautiful. No scars in sight.”
Steve’s intense gaze forced yours away. “I knew someone was lying to me. Seemed the best way to get to the truth was to come see you for myself. And here you are. And you’re just… Perfect.”
Your sundress was modest and so was the light cardigan you wore over it. Yet, the way he looked you over made you feel vulnerable and exposed. He moved closer, taking the side of your face in his hand and tipping your face up. A strong thumb traced up your chin, brushing across the petal of your lower lip.
You just froze beneath that intent stare, that foreign touch. You were trembling in front of him.
“No one ever comes to this house in the middle of the night,” Steve murmured. “There’s no trace of a secret boyfriend or lover… Have you ever known a man’s touch?”
Steve knew everything. You didn’t know what to say, could only stare at him in horror and humiliation.
A wicked smile formed on his lips at your reaction. He took it for an answer.
“My father’s gone now.” Steve’s hand fell away. “So is your mother, your brother… Your mother ran because she didn’t want the arranged marriages for her kids. She didn’t want you to grow up in the families. I guess she thought she was saving you. So did your old man.”
Your heart clenched at your chest at that revelation. Was it true?
“Your father isn’t well,” Steve told you. “He’s weak and his men know it. They stay with him out of loyalty. I respect that.”
You knew your father was tired. Was he ill? You didn’t think it was so serious.
‘Your father broke an agreement made in good faith,” Steve told you angrily. “And that I can’t tolerate.”
Fear had your heart accelerating. You didn’t know much about your father’s business or the crime families but that didn’t sound good.
“My father wanted me to take control over your father’s family, to take control of all the families and I will.” The determination in those fierce blue eyes had you shying away from him. “My marriage to you was supposed to help secure that. But my father couldn’t expect me to marry someone…”
Had he been told you were so hideous you had to be kept hidden?
“But you’re not that,” he pointed out. “I could kill your father right now. And I should for him lying to me about this. But he doesn’t have long. And with your brother gone, he has no male heirs.”
Your father didn’t have long?
If this man was going to take over your father’s family when he died, what happened to you?
But the dark, heated look in his eyes as he continued to look you over answered your question.
“I’ll wait,” Steve told you. “I’ll take the time he has left to take the reigns from him. To cement the union of our two families in everyone’s heads. And when he’s gone, I’ll take over. I’ll take all of it. Just like my father envisioned.”
The man had big plans, fierce determination to see it through.
“Why would my father agree to this?” you asked before thinking.
“For you,” Steve told you, moving closer. He traced a finger down your cheek, down your neck. “If he went to all the trouble to hide you from me, you matter to him. He wouldn’t want to see anything happen to you, now would he?”
A spike of fear went through your heart at those words.
“Oh, don’t worry,” Steve said with reassurance that didn’t sound all that sincere. “I don’t want anything to happen to you either. One of my men will stay here full-time until your father passes.”
Tears stung the backs of your eyes. He made it sound like your father’s death wasn’t that far away. Why didn’t you know that? Was he telling the truth?
“And then?” you asked, barely above a whisper.
“Then I’ll marry you just as it was planned,” Steve explained. “The elders like Dyson will easily recognize you as his daughter. The story will come out, our families will be united.”
Steve planned to marry you?
Your future had never been something you worried about. You’d planned to talk to your father about going to college in New York, pursuing a degree in interior design maybe. From there you could live your life, try to find happiness outside of Boston.
Your heart pounded in your chest like a bird trying in vain to escape its cage. The scent of his cologne invaded your senses as he moved closer, forcing you to look up at him. He took your face in his large hands and lowered his mouth to yours, his lips moved in a slow caress. There was a question in that kiss that you didn’t know how to answer. Awkward and embarrassed, you fought to stay still, hoping he’d quickly tire of your ignorance in how to kiss.
Instead of angry, he looked amused as he pulled away from you. “First kiss?”
You managed a nod, wanting the floor to open up and swallow you whole.
Steve smiled at you. God, he was beautiful when he smiled. But the intentions behind those heated blue eyes filled you with dread. He held you there, his thumb again tracing a path over your bottom lip.
“So innocent,” Steve whispered. “It’s not something I ever thought I wanted. But I kind of like the idea of someone no other man has touched. My man is going to ensure you stay that way.”
One of his hands slid down over your jaw, down the slim column of your neck.
“When the time is right, I’ll teach you,” he said quietly. “I’ll teach you how to please me… I’ll make you crave me.”
His fingers trailed along your collarbone, down over the top of your chest. His finger traced the line along the bodice of your dress, just above your breasts. You held your breath at that barely-there touch, holding still.
“You’ll give me children,” Steve went on.”A family. A loyal family.
The restless shuffling of Ms. Healey outside the door gave away her presence on the other side.
“Happy birthday, Princess,” Steve whispered, bending forward to brush a kiss on your forehead.
And with that he turned and left, leaving the study door open to reveal your worried governess who rushed in to comfort you.
But where was comfort to be found?
Everything so far had gone just as Steve said that fateful day. By that fall, your father had been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. Two years later, exhausted from chemotherapy, working long hours, and failing to hold onto a family built by his grandfather, your father came to live in your house. He came to rest, to have you care for him.
And you did.
You tried to ask him about Steve, about the arranged marriage. But he never seemed to want to talk about it. He always told you, “Another time we’ll talk about it.”
Dyson made Ms. Healey uncomfortable from the first day and she left not long after he moved in. And you were okay. The older man grew on you. He had an endless supply of stories about Steve as a kid, his exploits, and his good deeds. No matter how you tried you couldn’t imagine that man ever being small, a mother’s good son.
And Steve kept his distance. He sent an endless stream of gifts, using Dyson apparently to learn what appealed to you. He didn’t actually come to visit until your father moved in and private nurses came to help you take care of him in his last months.
Steve kept his visits brief. He was always perfectly polite to your father. If you didn’t know better, you’d think they’d been long-time friends. Steve always asked how you were which was ridiculous because he already knew everything about your life. You’d smile politely, assure him you were well, and go hide.
His little bird in her cage.
And Steve watched you with darkened eyes, his promise to you of how your future would be reflected there. In your father’s last days, you admitted to yourself that you were afraid of Steve. You were afraid of what it would be like, belonging to him body and soul.
Steve waited three months to the day after your father’s death to send the text message you just kept reading over and over like you could will it away.
Dyson had become your literal shadow since your loss.
Don’t make me come looking for you.
Did Steve really think you had it in you to run? You knew you wouldn’t get far. You knew you couldn’t escape him.
Look at what happened to your mother and brother.
When a group of men arrived at your front door, there to help you pack, you slammed the door in their faces. Pack? You were joining Steve for dinner, right?
Nearly blinded by your tears, you raced through the house to find Dyson, to demand an explanation. The old man was already working with the maids to pull your clothes from your closet. He took one look at you and held up his hands, his expression concerned.
“What are you doing?” you fought back the crush of emotions threatening to overwhelm you.
“It’s time,” Dyson told you. “Time for your new life to begin.”
“It’s not my life,” you bit out angrily. “It never was.”
Rushing past him, you locked yourself in your bathroom and let it out, sobbing. You ignored Dyson’s well-meaning platitudes on the other side of the door. You ignored the maids trying to ask if you were okay, if you needed something.
What did a bird in a gilded cage really need?
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wiypt-writes · 2 months ago
Rawhide Masterlist
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Chapters are chronological
Please heed the individual warnings at the start of each chapter.
This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any of the characters in this series bar reader and any other mentioned O/C
Chapter 1- Welcome To Stark Wood Chapter 2- Trust Chapter 3- Truth Chapter 4- A Little Time Chapter 5- The Simple Life Chapter 6-  Secrets And Revelations
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toomanyrobins2 · 18 days ago
wrist kisses {blurb}
Summary: an intimate moment leads to a lifetime of "I love yous"
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader
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Even after Wakanda, Bucky is nervous about his arm. The self-loathing had abated but the fear of hurting those he loved was always there in the back of his mind. When he’d started dating you, you quickly realized his hesitancy. Determined to make him understand that you knew he’d never hurt you, you started to touch him as often as possible. Starting small, you ran your hand along his shoulder when you passes. Then, you squeezed his hand when you were excited. Eventually, he tangled his fingers with yours. A big victory came when you rested your head on his left shoulder as the group watched a movie. Without thinking, you wound your fingers between the vibranium ones and he didn’t wince.
The biggest victory came when he eventually pulls you into a kiss with his left arm. Slowly, he grew desensitized, cupping her face as he kissed her. You started to twist your head whenever he did that and pressed a soft kiss to his wrist. Soon that evolved into your little way of saying I love you and if offered mutual comfort.
Anytime either of you needs reassurance, one would cup the other’s face and that person kisses their wrist. When you found out you were pregnant, you found yourself doing it more often. Bucky needed a lot of reassuring as his nerves grew. The day your son was born, every concern was thrown out the window. He cradled Steven George Barnes in both of his arms and never wanted to let go. With tears in his eyes, he pressed a kiss to your wrist and thanked you.
Bucky was a doting father. You often woke up to the bed empty and found him sleeping on the nursery floor. He’d explained that he didn’t want Stevie to get lonely. The day you decided you would give your husband a million babies started like any other. You were in the kitchen, watching Bucky lay on the floor with the baby. He played with the baby’s little hands and feet, marveling that he managed to be part of creating something so innocent.
The baby grabs one of his fingers with their little hand and Bucky leans down to plant a soft kiss on the baby’s wrist.
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@mycosmicparadise @marvelofwitch @redhairedfeistynerd
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earlgreydream · 5 months ago
| loki x reader | fluff | angst |
requested. Loki x Reader where they live in avengers tower and Loki updates the reader with his anger/annoyance level
slight angst for a dreary sunday 
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“Ten! Fucking ten!” Loki screamed, tearing into the kitchen where you were baking. 
“What?” Sam asked, looking up. 
“Nothing,” you said before wiping your hands on a towel and jogging over to the infuriated god. 
He was practically seething, his dark curls wild and eyes sharp with anger. You gave a look to Sam, Bucky, and Steve that said clear the room, and they took the hint, leaving you alone with Loki. 
You’d bonded with the god while he was at the tower, and you had a soft spot for Loki that no one else did. You had a system for gauging his unpredictable emotions. Loki would tell you a number, one through ten, that indicated his mood, or his anger levels. Usually, the moody Asgardian settled at around a four, just passive annoyance, but today he was shaken up by something. 
You didn’t speak at first, you just walked up to Loki and pulled him into your arms, wrapping around his waist. You felt some of his anger slip away, and his delicate hand came to rest on the back of your head.
“What happened, Loki?” you asked gently. 
“Thor. Stark. They taunt me, they call me a monster and they say that I should still be locked up in the glass cell, that I shouldn’t be let out of the tower. They were saying that I don’t deserve your attention, that I’ve casted some kind of spell over you to make you like me. It’s all lies, I’ve changed!” Loki broke down in your arms.
“Oh, Loki...” you hugged him tightly. 
The other’s distrust of Loki ran deep, and they couldn’t accept the fact that Loki really had changed. Thor spent multiple lifetimes witnessing his mischief, and he poisoned the well of hatred for Loki. It all broke your heart. You knew it wasn’t true, and you wished that the others could see it. 
Hot tears ran from Loki’s blue eyes, and you stroked through his dark hair, trying to calm him down. 
“Hey, Loki, it’s okay,” you whispered, kissing his temple. 
He looked so young like this. He was no longer the frightening villain that tried to overthrow New York. Now, Loki was just a wounded young god who’s feelings had been hurt by his brother, the one person other than you he thought that he could depend on. 
“Why don’t you help me finish the brownies? Get your mind off of them?” you offered, prying yourself free from him. 
He nodded quietly, following you back to the island where you handed him the batter to stir. You finished putting in the ingredients, going through the cabinets looking for something to add.
Loki smiled at the sound of your excited gasp, and you held up a bag of chocolate chips. 
“Lo, save some for the brownies!” you cried as he snatched some from your measuring cup. 
“There’s plenty, darling, I’m certain of it.” 
You let him steal some more of the chocolate chips before mixing them into the batter. He helped you pour it into a pan and slid it in the oven for you, insisting he wasn’t going to let you risk burning yourself. 
“How long until they’re done?” he asked, peering through the glass window of the oven. You smiled at him, running your fingers through his hair as he watched them cook.
“Half hour or so.”
“We have time for a chapter of our book,” Loki grinned, though his gaze was hopeful. You agreed, and Loki took your hand, pulling you to the couch. You sat beside him, and he read aloud from a novel. You loved his voice, getting lost in it. Loki loved to read to you, and you indulged him, leaning against his side as he read you stories of magic and romance. 
The oven beeped just as Loki finished the chapter, and you nearly fell over at the speed in which he bolted back to the kitchen. You smiled to yourself, thankful you were able to cheer him up, or at least distracted from the anger.
He set the pan on the stove to cool, leaning over them and biting his lip. You walked up beside him, your hand sliding up his slender back. 
“How are you feeling now?”
“After spending time with you? Wonderful,” Loki smiled. 
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nev3rfound · 6 months ago
in your arms : b.b
bucky keeps dreaming about one of the worst nights of his life and seeks comfort from you to help (1.2k)
warnings: violence, mentions of blood, hospitals, angst but hints of fluff  requested: nope! but i am accepting requests so feel free to send one in :)
masterlist / permanent taglist / etsy shop - requests open!
(everything on my blog is my own writing. if it is shared on another page or website without being credited, it has not been approved to be shared by me. all rights reserved.)
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“I’m sorry,” You whisper, your breathing becoming shallower by the second as Bucky shakes his head.
“No,” He insists, clutching you closer in his arms. “no you, you don’t get to go like this, doll. Not like this.”
Rushing into the lab, Steve and Natasha pause at the sight of blood seeping through your clothing, covering Bucky’s hands as he refuses to part with you.
“We can fix this, you’ll be okay.” Bucky pleads, sparing a glance at Steve as tears form in his eyes. “You’ll be okay, Y/n, just please, stay with me.” Bucky whispers into your hair as your eyes begin to close.
“It was always going to be me, Bucky.” You manage to chuckle, feeling all sense of pain alleviating from your body as a chill replaces it. “You’ll be okay,” You insist, despite Bucky disagreeing with you. “I promise, it’ll be okay.”
Steve lowers his head as your hand drops to the ground, your body becoming lifeless in Bucky’s arms as he mutters your name under his breath repeatedly.
“We, we can fix this, can’t we?” Bucky speaks up, tears rolling down his cheeks as he focuses on Steve. “We can save her, she, she can’t be gone.” Bucky states, glancing down as he brushes your cheek. “She can’t be.”
Stepping forward, Steve sighs under his breath. “I’m sorry, Buck.” He says sadly, kneeling down in front of his oldest friend. “I truly am.”
Gasping for breath, Bucky sits upright in bed, clutching his damp sheets with both hands.
It takes him a minute to compose himself, gather his surroundings whilst he focuses on his breathing. “Compound.” He mutters to himself, keeping grounded as he looks to his left, the space beside him still absent.
Running his fingers through his hair, the ends feel wet with sweat once again. Yet, Bucky cannot process anything besides finding his way to the only safe place he currently has; the medical ward.
His feet guide him as sleep covers his gaze, half aware of where he is as the antibacterial scent engulfs his senses; snapping him out of any sleep like state he previously was in.
Walking past the guards, they barely register him anymore as he frequents the hallways.
In the back of his mind he knows it’s not the same, that things will never return to how they used to be; but hearing the sound of beeping faintly, it’s enough to provide some sense of comfort.
As Bucky turns the corner, he rubs his eyes before pushing the door open to the private room within the medical ward, the one you haven’t left since you returned from that mission.
“Hi, doll.” Bucky breathes out as he softly closes the door behind him, a small smile ghosting his lips whilst his eyes wander over your unconscious body remaining hooked up to various monitors, but your breathing remains consistent.
Moving toward your bed, Bucky pulls up the plastic chair that remains in the room at all times. His visits are constant, and even if he doesn’t always use the chair, the Nurses keep it there just in case.
“It erm, happened again.” He admits quietly, sitting down in the chair as it squeaks, causing him to wince. “But I, I know you’re still here,” Taking your hand in his, he ignores the IV drip attached to your hand as he brushes his fingers across yours, the blood that previously coated them gone, your ring shining in the moonlight.
Bucky pauses to take a deep breath, feeling tears rising in his eyes as your chest rises and falls, the thin fabric covering the majority of your body but exposes the bruising around your neck.
“If I had been just a minute faster this wouldn’t have happened.” Bucky explains, his mind drifting back to the nightmare as the man who caused this laughs sickly before Bucky shot him. “I could’ve saved you, Y/n.” Tears fall down Bucky’s cheeks as they drop onto your hand.
As he closes his eyes, he wishes you could tell him it’ll be alright. He misses your comforting words, the gentle whispers as you curled up with him as you’d run your fingers through his hair. Bucky longs to even hear your voice, to see your eyes open and see how they crinkle when you smile at him or laugh at his attempted jokes that don’t always land.
“I don’t know how much longer I can do this without you, doll.” It hurts to admit it, but Bucky knows it’s true. You’ve been unconscious for just over a week now, with no signs of waking up.
Thankfully you’re stable and comfortable, that’s all they can do for now.
“It’s down to you, Y/n if you can hear me.” Bucky whispers as he takes your hand and brings it to his lips, missing you giggle as his stubble brushes against your palm.
Closing his eyes, Bucky rises to his feet as he gently lies down beside you on the bed. After the first time, the Nurses found him lying next to you on a single bed, they ensured to make you and him more comfortable by providing a larger bed.
Being careful of the tubes and wires to the machines, Bucky winces as he tugs on one and mumbles an apology to you.
“Come back to me, Y/n.” Bucky sighs as he pulls you into his embrace, your head resting against his chest as his eyes grow heavier, the sound of your heart beating comforting him as he lulls into a deep sleep.
“Well he’s here somewhere,” Sam huffs as he walks alongside Steve through the compound. “it’s not like he’d get far, the guy can’t even use a smartphone.”
Ignoring Sam’s comment, Steve carries on through to the kitchen with no luck.
“Where else would he be?” Sam thinks aloud, causing Steve to sigh to himself before rushing off. “Yeah okay, don’t tell me then!” Sam yells after his friend, heading back into the kitchen for some breakfast.
As Steve reaches the medical ward, he finds himself stood outside of your room. “Where else?” He sighs under his breath, looking into the sight that causes his heart to sink.
The blinds remain open as sunlight pours into the room, illuminating the gold banding within Bucky’s metal arm wrapped around your waist.
Yet, Steve can feel his breathing haltering as you begin to run your fingers through Bucky’s hair whilst he remains fast asleep in your embrace.
Looking up, you can feel a pair of eyes watching over you both. Noticing who it is, you can’t help but tiredly smile at Steve.
Before he can say anything, you lift your finger to your lips, and Steve nods in response, understanding.
Humming to yourself, you continue to run your fingers through Bucky’s hair as he quietly snores. “I’m right here, Bucky.” You whisper.
Slowly coming to, Bucky shuffles in your arms and tenses, noticing you no longer in his arms, but him in yours.
“Y/n?” Bucky mutters.
“Hi, James.” You chuckle softly, resting your hand on his cheek. “I promised you it’d be okay, didn’t I?”
Focusing on you in a state of disbelief, Bucky leans into your embrace as tears fall freely down his cheeks. “Thank you.” He mumbles, unsure of his own voice. “For coming back to me.”
Smiling sweetly, you press your lips to his forehead. “Always, James.”
t a g l i s t (thank you for the support!) link in my bio and at the top of this piece to add yourself☺️(if your user isn’t tagged, it’s because nothing comes up sorry!)
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rwrights · a month ago
pairing : emo!wanda x fem!reader
summary : after three years of perseverance and having to deal with her boyfriend, it only took five words for her to crack.
contents : fluff, high school!au, slow burn
word count : 2.5k
a/n : emo wanda will be the death of me
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laughs were surrounded around ms. harkness’ classroom, being the lesson right before lunch break. “alright, alright, settle down, lovelies.” she began, setting her books down on her desk. “we’re gonna get started with a recap on romeo and juliet!”
her sentence caused students to let out groans and comments of disapproval. “oh, come on! this is a classic! this story is beautiful.” she argued, making wanda laugh in response. this caught her attention as she raised her eyebrow, “do you have anything to add, miss maximoff?”
wanda turned to head towards her teacher before sitting straight, “well, yes. other than having read it in the seventh grade - i may or may not disagree.” she simply said, miss harkness urging her to elaborate.
“dear, i’m aware you’ve read this years ago – but the reason i’m making you go through it again is because you’re all now very observant and opinionated. i want to know what you got from the book this time and how you felt about it.” she explained, with a smile on her face nevertheless.
“well, it’s obviously debatable, you find it beautiful, i find it dull. most people think that this is a romance between two lovers, but they seem to leave out the fact that Juliet isn't even 15. yes, there was family drama, but not one character in this book makes a single logical decision throughout. the two families realized their mistakes, at the end but at what cost? yes, Shakespeare is a good writer and his legacy continues on, but was it really that great? the whole concept of the book was rather tiring to read. but of course, this is just my opinion.”
wanda’s rant left the class speechless and a huge smile on miss harkness’ face.
“i appreciate your point of view, wanda. i’m very proud of you for being able to read between the lines and understand - or feel the book differently than others.” she grinned, surprising wanda, but she accepted her kind remarks.
you stared at her in awe with your jaw basically slacked on your desk. miss harkness continued going on and asking people for their opinions while you gawked at the girl next to you. she felt your eyes burning through the side of her head as she turned to you, giving you a knowing look.
“you’re so smart,” you replied simply, making her furrow her eyebrows in confusion. “uh.. thanks?” she shook her head slightly before looking back at miss harkness. you weren’t going to lie to yourself and say you didn’t adore the girl next to you, because, holy shit. you adored her.
you’d known her since sophomore year and you’ve been enticed by her ever since – although she hasn’t made it all that easy for you. years spent on sharp remarks, long glares, cold shoulders, but eventually she gave up and decided to be your friend. you two belonged in a decently sized friend group, consisting of seven other kids.
steve rogers, tony stark, bruce banner, clint barton, natasha romanoff – seniors.
wanda maximoff, pietro maximoff, vision and you – juniors.
you shared almost all of your classes with your fellow, yet older juniors, and unfortunately vision. wanda’s boyfriend.
you envied the man for reasons you could not explain – well actually, just one reason. wanda. they’d been together for a total of four months and you’d been flirting with wanda for over three years. you weren’t going to lie and say you weren’t hurt and shocked when hearing she was in a relationship when you were so sure she reciprocated your feelings, but you were happy for her either way.
the rest of the gang babied you to no end, making you feel better - or trying to anyway. you were the youngest amongst them, leaving them to think it was their role to take you under their wings.
45 minutes later, the lesson ended on a good note as you packed your things up and stood by the entrance of the class, waiting for your three other friends. you scowled slightly as vision swung his arm around the sokovian girl. you groaned as pietro did the same with you, messing up your hair. “you’re adorable, malyshka. your little face scrunching up when you see them is priceless.” you felt him laugh beside you, “you are just so adorable, y/n/n.”
“you mocking me will just cause you to lose your pudding.”
“shall we get going?” vision suddenly asked, smiling as he played with the ends of wanda's hair. you glared at him slightly before pietro dragged you out of the classroom, “let’s go!”
you met the seniors halfway to the cafeteria and saw how the four guys and girl were grinning at you. “not a word..” you sternly spoke, tony bringing his hands up to his head in surrender, the grin not leaving his face. “alright, go get lunch, kiddo. we’ll get the table.” steve replied, taking your bag as they walked to your usual lunch table. natasha linked her arm with yours, smiling. “how you feelin’, kid?”
“don’t kid me, nat. can’t believe i’ve put up with you for three years..” you grumbled, getting your food on the tray in front of you. “give me your pudding and i’ll forgive you.”
“yeah, i love you, but not that much. pudding’s mine.” nat replied, taking hers greedily before rushing off to your table. you quickly followed after her, immediately digging into your food. “wanda, y/n still bothering you?.” clint asked cheekily, chewing on his fries. “no, she’s not.” you quickly replied, glaring at him. “yes.. yes, she is.” wanda replaced, rolling her eyes playfully - or you hoped so.
“i do not!”
“you were staring at me the whole english lesson, it made me fidgety.” she replied, drinking from her bottle. “do i have that effect on you, maximoff?” you asked, smiling slightly.
“y/n.” vision warned, glaring at you. you rolled your eyes before digging into your food again. “it’s only a matter of time until your girlfriend falls for my tactics, vis.” you chewed, tony cheering you on while steve shook his head, eating his burger.
“oh, in your dreams, l/n. three years of your tactics and look where that’s gotten you.” he retorted. you froze and looked up at him, squinting your eyes. “you’re on thin ice, vis. since when were we on a last name basis? i don’t even know your last name? what is it?”
“okay, okay! enough. y/n, stop it.” wanda cut in, giving you a warning look. “wha- but i-?” she gave you a look, getting the words stuck in your throat. you slumped into your seat, leaning into pietro’s arm as he held you, amused. “ay, sestra. you’re so mean to y/n.” he teased. “tell your girlfriend to stop staring at me all the time then, hmm?”
“his wha-”
“my wha-”
“girlfriend?!” you both questioned at the same time, turning to each other before laughing. “wanda, my girlfriend was just flirting with you! do you not get it?” pietro managed to let out in between wheezes. “look, pietro-” vision started, causing you to cut in. “vis, you’ve gotta–”
“gosh darn it! no more fighting! i’m getting a headache and i just wanna eat my damn burger.” steve scolded, glaring at all of you, or the four of you. “yes sir..” you all muttered, quickly silencing. bruce let out a laugh as he flicked steve’s temple, “grandpa.”
the rest of the break, you all mingled amongst yourselves, you - to no surprise - were staring at wanda most of the time. pietro’s arm was wrapped around you, his eyes focusing on wanda as well, not to admire her - but to read her. you couldn’t see the way her eyes twitched whenever pietro pulled you closer, but he could. very clearly.
“you alright there, wands?” he asked, squeezing your arm as he smirked at his sister. “what? yeah, no, i’m fine.” she croaked, tearing her eyes off you. “babe?” vision called out, bringing his arm around her. “it’s nothing, vis. drop it.” he let go of her, clearly taken aback by her tone. he cleared his throat, scooting closer to her as if nothing happened.
moments later, the bell rang. alerting all of you that it was time for class. “alright, kiddos. have fun.” bruce let out, hitting the back of pietro’s head. he clicked his tongue as he picked your bag up. “let’s go!”
“piet, i think y/n can carry her own bag.” wanda hissed, walking alongside him. “yes, i think she can.” you replied, grabbing it from him and slinging it over your shoulder. “aw, i was only trying to be nice, sestra.” he pouted.
“can we just get to class?” vision asked from behind his girlfriend. wanda grabbed his hand and dragged him along to your next class.
“piet, you have got to stop.” you cried out, leaning into him. he chuckled as he threw his arm over your shoulder, “i know, but it’s just way too funny seeing her face.”
a few days went by, your flirtatious trials with wanda ongoing, vision scolding you for trying it with his girlfriend, pietro continuously keeping you close to him, wanda subtly sending you daggers.
“y/n/n~” pietro whined, digging his head into your shoulder. “okay, fine! you can have my pudding, you man child.” you groaned, sliding it towards him. you felt him smile against your shoulder as he kissed your cheek. “ah, moya lyubov, you are the best.”
“pietro, lay off.” wanda hissed from the opposite side of the table. “wanda?!” vision retorted, causing everyone else at the table to laugh. “careful, sestra. if i didn't know any better, i’d say you were jealous.”
“Пьетро, ​​хватит (pietro, that’s enough)” she warned, natasha and pietro giggling to themselves, leaving everyone confused. “ты не можешь отрицать это, не так ли? (you can’t deny it, can you?)” pietro shot back. “успокойтесь, ребята. (settle down, children.)” natasha joined in.
“everyone just smile and nod,” tony joked. wanda backed off as vision angrily whispered something into her ear. she waved him off, going back to eating her lunch.
you said your goodbyes to the seniors as the four of you headed off to social studies, or as you liked to call it - free period.
“yeah, alright, do your own work, just don’t disturb anyone outside of class.” mr wilson said, leaning back into his chair and placing his feet on his table, mindlessly scrolling on his phone. you, vision, pietro and wanda were sat at the back of the classroom. you in the corner, pietro next to you, vision in front of him and wanda in front of you. pietro leaned towards you in his chair as vision was sat in place, but was positioned where he could see all of you. wanda turned to face you as she straddled her chair. (you know where like bad boys in movies sit with the back of the chair in front of them. OMG)
pietro was telling a story, but you couldn’t tear your eyes off of her, vision noticed it too. “hey, eyes off, l/n.” you turned to look at him as you rolled your eyes, “you’re so lame, vis.”
“hey, hello! i was getting to the good part!” pietro complained before he went back to his story. he ended it with laughs, the three of you following suit. “you’re an idiot, but i’m sure you’re aware.” wanda replied, smiling slightly. “you’re so pretty, wands.” you told her, causing her to look up at you. “yeah, i know. you’ve told me a lot, y/n.”
“okay, whatever.”
the four of you took turns telling stories and just sharing conversation. it was wanda’s turn as she started talking about a funny thing that happened in a vinyl shop nearby. “and they literally tipped everything over and the owner lady started yelling at them in italian!” she laughed, causing the three of you to do the same. she continued talking, but it seemed as if you went deaf for a solid minute - you were too focused on the way she smiled and laughed as she recalled the event. she looked so pretty talking about whatever it was she was talking about and she kept playing with her hair after every sentence. you finally snapped back into it as you heard wanda call your name. “hey! earth to y/n! did you hear a thing i said?”
silence, you stared at her for thirty seconds before-
“do you wanna make out?” you practically yelled, not breaking eye contact. you didn’t miss the way she blinked in shock and her cheeks turned into a light shade of pink.
“y/n!?” vision scolded, glaring at you as he looked at his girlfriend, protectively. pietro laughed out loud as he watched the whole event unfold and snickered at how his sister froze.
you weren’t expecting a response until she said,
“well, yeah, i wouldn’t oppose it.”
“wanda?!” vision asked in disbelief as he kept his eyes travelling in between the both of you. “finally!” pietro cried out until the bell finally rang. “saved by the bell,” he groaned as he stood up and packed his things. vision was scolding the both of you, but everything went in one ear and through the other. you smiled at wanda before grabbing your things and walking out alongside pietro.
the day went by and all you could think about was wanda’s response. that was the first flirty - if you could even call it that - reply you’ve gotten from her in four months. you leaned against your locker as a girl from your chemistry class was telling you about your upcoming project. wanda was watching from afar, unknowingly sending daggers to your head. “hi wands, what ya lookin at?” pietro interrupted, swinging his arm around his sister and realizing what was happening. “ha! you’re jealous!”
“what?! no, i’m not! i just–”
the girl leaned in towards you as she told you what she was excited about and it set wanda’s buttons off. she clearly misread the situation, but the only thing she could see was how the girl was too close to you. she stormed into your direction and gripped onto your arm. “wha–” you started, you turned around and apologized to your classmate and told her you’d talk to her later.
wanda dragged you into the girl’s washroom and pushed you in before shoving you against the door. “wanda?!” you gawked, scared about the way she was looking at you. “well- i’m, uh, w-what’s up?” you asked, trying to hide the fear that was clearly written in your voice and on your face.
“you asked if i wanted to make out right?” she questioned as if it was nothing. “well, yes-”
“alright,” she replied before she pressed her lips against yours. you melted against her as her hands gripped onto your waist and as your hands travelled to her shoulders. three years, you’ve dreamt about this very moment for three years and it was so much more magical than you imagined. other than the fact that you were in the girl’s bathroom at school. she reluctantly pulled away from you as she pushed the hairs that stuck to your face away from it.
“w-what was that for?!”
she shrugged, “i guess it's been three years overdue. and that's cruel, even for me.”
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vanderlustwords · 3 months ago
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A Good Thing {mafia au}
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Mobster!Reader
- 37. We’re dating and I didn’t know you were a mobster/biker
- 46. Argument leading to kissing/sex.
Summary: Your world shifts so many times but the most important one is the time you met Bucky, slept with him, and then fell in love with him. You force your world to stay still after that because if Bucky ever found out who you were—it would shift into nothing. Because you’re the type of person Bucky Barnes despises.
Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI. EXPLICIT SMUT. Unprotected sex (wrap before u tap), angst, reader gets mean, some happy moments, angst again. HEA
Note: Not me making a comeback after one year 🤪 I’m so sorry but sometimes the muse goes away. She’s back tho and the writing motivation is juicy. Dedicated to @empyreanwritings because she is my muse 😌✨
Count: ~10k (sorry)
Coffee and rain.
There's something soothing to Bucky's soul when he smells the fresh grinds of coffee mixed in with the rain. The smells and the sounds lull Bucky's aching.
The nice thing about when it rains is that his favourite small coffee shop is quieter. People, for some inexplicable reason, prefer to run to the Starbucks across the street. More seating, probably.
And the very best part of this small coffee shop? It's open 24/7.
Bucky drinks his coffee silently at his usual booth, looking out the window at 2 AM. It's just one of those nights.
It was then he met you.
The door chimes open, and Bucky instinctively looks towards the door.
You were...gloomy.
You walked in, drenched from the rain, with the only thing to keep you completely soaked was your leather peacoat.
"Hey, Sam," you spoke softly.
The lone barista turned to look over to you with a frown.
"Would it kill you to carry an umbrella? It's rainy season," Sam said with his hands on his hip.
"I did have an umbrella," you tell him.
"And what happened to it?"
You shrugged.
Sam sighed.
"I'll go get you a towel, hold on. Do you want anything else?"
"A latte," you ask. "Could you make it with the pretty art?"
Sam presses his lips together as if to prevent himself from laughing. From Bucky's view, he could see the challenging look in your eyes.
"Coming up, just hold on," Sam tells you before he walks off.
Bucky checks his watch again and decides it's getting much too late, and he's sat here long enough. He gets up with his coffee and starts to leave, but as he passes you, you suddenly turn and bump right into him.
His coffee splashes through the hole in the lid over you, and he's glad that his drink had become lukewarm borderline cold with how long he sat at the cafe.
"Oh, shit," Bucky frowns as he reaches over you to grab a bunch of napkins from the dispenser. "I'm so sorry. Are you okay?"
Your face contorts into mild annoyance, and Bucky is sure you're going to cuss him out. But then, you lick your lips, and with a deep breath, you sigh.
"It's okay," you tell him quietly. "It's my fault for turning suddenly. I was trying to go hang my jacket."
Bucky passes you the napkins, but he grins at you. "Not sure if it'll help much since you're drenched. I really am sorry about your jacket, though. I can pay for dry cleaning?"
You actually crack a smile because you're soaked from head to toe and just holding the napkins alone have already used them up. You look at the man before you. His hair is trimmed neatly, but he's a little scruffy with a 5 o'clock shadow on his face. He's got steely grey eyes, but there's a little twinkle of warmth in them.
He's handsome, rough around the edges, but kind.
After all, he was offering to pay for your dry cleaning.
"It's a really expensive jacket," you tell him with a tilt of your head, a small smirk on your lips. "Dry cleaning won't fix it."
Bucky licks his bottom lip before biting it as he eyes you. "What can I do to make it up to you?"
You smile.
You like when things are simple and straightforward.
There are many things in your life that are complicated, so you appreciate things that are not.
Bucky is simple and straightforward in the best ways. He's charming, funny, and just the right amount of depth. But he's also honest, and you like that about him. He's not afraid to say what he's feeling or what he's thinking about.
Bucky's so...unlike you.
You're always overthinking everything, debating what is safe to reveal and what isn't. You guard your feelings close to your chest, and you make it seem like you're a simple person too.
And you lie.
"How was work today?" Bucky asks as you step into his apartment.
You take your jacket off, hanging it in his closet before Bucky pulls you into a warm hug and a chaste kiss to the corner of your lips. You drag your teeth over your lips as you place your hands on Bucky's stomach before running your hands up to his broad chest.
Another thing you like about Bucky. You think he's so fit.
"Not bad. Sold some paintings," you answer as you lean in closer, letting your lips brush against his.
A freelance art dealer.
That's what you told him you do for work.
It's only a partial lie.
But it worked for you because it could explain why you'd have to leave at times or if you had plenty of time off.
"How was work for you?" You ask softly.
Bucky is a man of many talents. He does a little bit of everything because he excels in whatever he does. But right now, he works at a bookstore.
"Good," is all he offers before he swoops in and kisses your lips.
You let out a soft hum of pleasure, letting Bucky sweep you away from reality for a moment. How can kissing someone feel so good?
It had started out easy enough since that moment in Sam's coffee shop. Bucky had been on his way out, but you managed to convince him to stay just another drink to make up for spilling his drink on you.
Before you knew it, two hours had passed, and you finally gave the man reprieve and let him leave to go to bed for the day. Not that he was eager to go.
Bucky asked for your number and didn't do that thing where men wait a couple of days to call you. He rang you the very next day to see what your schedule was like.
It was endearing.
One coffee date turned into two, then turned into three.
Coffee dates turned into walks in the park, grabbing lunch, and then grabbing dinner.
Once or twice a week turned into four or five times.
Leaving at two in the morning turned into staying the night.
What had started as casual was beginning to get serious—because you were falling for someone who was meant to just be a distraction.
Bucky moans slightly against your lips as his hands drift further down your back and onto your ass before he pulls you flush against him.
"Mm, you always taste and feel so good, doll," Bucky pulls back with a grin on his lips.
You want to fuck Bucky so badly. Fucking Bucky always felt amazing because he was a generous lover. You'd done it with him so many times in the beginning, when you could look him in the eye and lie.
But nowadays, something unpleasant was settling in your stomach. It made sex much harder.
"What do you want to eat?" Bucky asks while he caresses your backside. "Wanna go on a walk today?"
You hum as you rest your cheek on his shoulder. Bucky also smells good—he smelled like clean laundry and pinewood. And clean laundry and pinewood were starting to smell like home.
"Mm, I know you asked me what I want to eat but I can already smell pasta," you look up at him, smirking.
Bucky laughs as he presses another kiss to your forehead. "I remember you said you were craving this pasta the other day but in the case you don't crave it anymore, I can just throw the whole thing away and we can get takeout."
You let out a burst of laughter as you slap Bucky playfully against his chest while he grins mischievously at you.
"You're so ridiculous," you roll your eyes but can't stop smiling.
Bucky just chuckles as he pulls back to grab your hand to lead you further into his home.
"Let's eat first and then we can think about a walk after. I've been hearing there's been more gang activity lately, so maybe we shouldn't. It wouldn't be good to run into one of those scumbags."
You look at Bucky's eyes, the rare time they're cold.
"Right," you swallow.
"Where've you been?"
"Nowhere," you mutter as you run your fingers through your hair. You look around and inwardly frown. This used to be home. There were so many nice things here. The chandelier above you was worth more than some people's home.
Yet, it couldn't compare to the quaint and warm feeling Bucky's house was.
"You can't just keep disappearing for days or even hours on end anymore. Your father's gone and that means—"
"I know what it means!" You snap, turning to look at Natasha coldly.
"Sorry," Natasha mutters first before you sigh and rub your forehead.
"No, I'm sorry," you tell her with a sigh and pinch to the bridge of your nose. "You're right, I can't keep going off on my own but this is a lot for me. I never expected to inherit this Syndicate so soon."
"I know," Natasha says sympathetically. "At least it was a natural cause. I always told him to take it easy on the sodium. But you're doing great. You've been around the business long enough."
You chuckle. "Yes, but the news about my father's death has spread and people have been targeting us, haven't they?"
Natasha huffs with a nod. "Fucking Stark has been snooping around our area. I think he's trying to edge in on our business and take our clients."
"Any fights?"
"No more than the usual. There was nearly a shootout a couple of days ago at one of our warehouses."
You sigh.
The terrible thing is that while both you and Stark are old money, old syndicates, you've both inherited the business and just recently. Now you're both new kids on the block trying to establish your names.
"Right," you say, feeling hollow as you stand. "Let's gather everyone for a meeting. I want updates on all our books."
You and Natasha leave the room, walking out into the long hallways. Members straighten up when they see you, and the guards look more serious.
Your people greet you left and right, and you hardly acknowledge them. Every time you hear them, it's just an uncomfortable reminder.
You're the daughter of a mob boss, the new owner of his Syndicate.
You're the kind of person Bucky Barnes despises the most.
Bucky hasn't ever disclosed why he hates gangsters and mobsters—but you pick up on this quickly when you're out and about together, and there's evidence of criminal activity out on the street.
It was the smart thing to do—lie.
Being who you are, what you've done, and what you own, it's a general rule to never disclose who you are and what you do. Even in relationships, unless they're about to enter the family or the business.
But you know Bucky would never join the family or the business, and he would never love you if he knew the truth.
You had the luxury that you've never been the face of the business, that you've been kept behind the scenes. Natasha's more the face of the Syndicate than you are. You've used that to your advantage because it's good that Bucky will never recognize you.
You're not sure what you could do to keep him if he found out.
"Oh, you taste really good," Bucky mutters as he pulls back from your lips just ever so slightly. You can still feel his warm breath on your lips.
You're in his lap, straddling his body with your thighs over his. Your panties have long gone missing, and your neediness had you pulling out Bucky's hard cock long ago. Pressed against his body, you feel his warmth and hardness. You feel your body melt into his, and you both love and hate it.
You wish it didn't feel as good as it did. You wished it felt like any other body you've used.
But he doesn't, and you're trying to wrap your head around why that is.
"What is that? Cherry?" Bucky asks as he captures your lips again, dipping his tongue into your mouth to taste you again. His tongue slides over yours, and you feel yourself grinding against him.
Bucky moans into your mouth, and you're addicted to the feel and the sound of him wanting you.
'Please always want me,' you think.
"I did have ice cream earlier today," you mumble breathily against his lips. "Black cherry."
Bucky hums, more so in pleasure at your gyrating hips than the lingering flavour of your dessert. His hands are under your dress, warm against your ass as he guides you into grinding more slowly before he adjusts and slips into you with one slick thrust.
You can't help your eyes fluttering close and the low groan in the back of your throat. Bucky makes you feel so full, so—open.
"Come on, doll," Bucky presses a sweet kiss against your jaw. "Open your eyes. I wanna see you look at me—wanna see your pretty eyes."
Your eyes open back as the thrusting becomes more urgent and you stay locked into Bucky's steely grey eyes.
That's probably why he's different.
Because Bucky sees you differently.
He looks at you like you're the sweetest thing in the world—like you're the most precious thing he has. He sees you for your dreams, your hopes, and your fears. He looks at you and expects nothing from you except your love and your happiness.
You can see it all in his hot gaze, and it makes you whimper.
"There we go, doll, you're close, aren't you?" Bucky's helping you along as he thrusts upwards rhythmically at a steady pace.
It's so good, so fucking good. Better than with anyone else you've ever done it with before. Your hands grip at Bucky's shirt at his shoulders, nails lightly digging through.
"Bucky—" you whimper. It's so lewd, the way you can hear the sounds of your skin slapping together, the slickness gathering between your thighs. It brings you higher and higher and higher.
Bucky moans in your ear as your head drops against your hand on his shoulder. "Fuck, you feel really tight. So good, always mine. Come on, doll. Let go. Let go and cum all over me."
And when your clit drags over Bucky's skin, and he hits you deeply just the right way, you fall over the edge, right over him. You come with a strangled cry and clenching of your thighs. You hear Bucky's breath hitch, a soft swear at your walls fluttering around him as he thrusts upwards eagerly, chasing his own release.
When he comes, and you feel the comforting warmth of his spend inside you, you relax against him while he's still inside.
The mix of your heavy breathing and his pants come to a still, and you languidly lift your head to place a sweet kiss on his lips.
The feeling of displacement settles over you like it always does after you finish fucking Bucky. The same feeling of disillusionment that makes you feel hollow and numb.
Because despite whatever Bucky sees in you, you know it's nothing but a part of you you'll never be able to fully be.
Still, you press your lips insistently upon his, foolishly hoping that you could be what Bucky sees. Even if it's only when he's inside you—even if it's just for a moment.
There's a reason Bucky likes fucking you (he secretly calls it making love to you, but he hasn't told you. Also because sometimes it is fucking).
Yes, it feels incredible, and it's fantastic every time. But there's something else. Bucky feels just a little closer to you when he makes you cum. Because in that one split second, that moment where you're on the precipice of wound up too tight and falling, you're entirely open to him.
You can't help but look openly vulnerable and can't help the raw emotion that crosses your face.
And Bucky is addicted to that.
He's not sure what he was expecting when he met you at Sam's cafe. A one-night stand or the occasional 2 AM booty call, maybe. It had easily turned into friends with benefits, and now they were dating.
Bucky has let himself fall completely. It was hard not to. You were too funny, too witty, too sarcastic, too soft, too loving, too everything. How could he not fall?
But while Bucky fell for you with no preparation for how he was going to land, you had fallen for him with a parachute.
He could sense you holding back. He could sense your sadness at times like you were upset with yourself for falling for him. Bucky doesn't take it to heart because there were times you openly adored him as well (when you're on that precipice of cumming and when you're gazing at him when you think he's fast asleep).
"How come we're always at my place?" Bucky asks as he strokes your back, feeling the familiar bumps of your spine. He tries not to go too low because you've got back dimples, and if he touches them, he'll definitely rile himself up to the point of railing you from behind again. He wants to talk because you only ever talk when he's fucked you so good; you're too relaxed to be on your guard.
"I like your place," you mumble sleepily against his chest.
"I mean, you make pretty good money, you must have a place way bigger than mine," Bucky muses.
You shrug.
"Perhaps but my place isn't like yours," you tell him, your index finger stroking his skin in a small line back and forth. "I don't spend a lot of time at my place, nor have I cared to decorate it. There's just a bunch of paintings and posh, modern-esque furniture."
Bucky is happy to listen as you intertwine your legs through his.
"I like your place because it's—like you. Your kitchen always smells like pasta. Your couch is well-worn in and you have throw pillows that don't match at all. Your bed is smaller than mine but I like it because we sleep closer together. And your sheets smell like you," you smile with your eyes closed.
"Like me?" He teases. "Hope that's good."
You hum. "Pinewood and clean laundry. I know you definitely wash it every week."
"You don't?" Bucky asked, his voice (mostly) jokingly aghast.
"Mm, the cleaners probably do," you mutter.
Bucky lets out a burst of quiet laughter. "Rich brat."
"Hey, I helped you wash dishes today."
"Ah, right, how could I forget your supervision. I wouldn't have been able to achieve clean dishes without you today."
"I'm glad you understand," you say cheekily.
Bucky merely pinches your side lightly as he rolls you over for a chaste kiss.
He sighs.
Bucky's fairly sure he's going to hit the ground and break all his bones, but he supposes that's alright. Because on the off chance your parachute doesn't work, or heaven forbid, you decide you can take it off, he'll still catch you—broken bones and all.
You're listening to Natasha give you the report, but your mind is miles and miles away.
Another gang fight broke out in the lower west part of your city today. Stark really seems to be testing your limits. To be fair, you just swiped one of his biggest clients from him and one of his shipments.
It's going to rear its ugly head soon. The way things are, it's going to escalate, and you'll probably start having to kill people. There's no hiding behind your father or Natasha anymore. You'll be the one who has to give the orders. You'll be directly responsible instead of indirectly and watching from the sidelines.
You just keep falling deeper and deeper into that person Bucky unknowingly despises.
You blink as you look up at Natasha from your desk.
"Everything okay, boss?" She asks you, and you snort.
"Don't call me that," you roll your eyes.
"Why? You are." Natasha smirked as she stood straight.
"Not to you. Dad took you in when you were a kid. You're family," you tell her softly, and Natasha allows herself to soften for the moment as well.
"You were an annoying sibling," Natasha says, ruining the entire moment.
"You were a sombre little thing. I was sure you were actually a granny in a kid's body," you rebuke back, causing the redhead to laugh.
"Alright, enough of that. What's wrong?" She asks you, and you bite the tip of your tongue.
You eventually let out a long sigh. "I don't know. I don't know how to handle all of this. I wasn't like you, Nat. Sure, sometimes I participated in meetings and learned the mechanics and the darker side of things Dad did, but I'm—I don't know. I knew I'd probably take over one day when Dad was like 102 years old and preferred bird watching instead of chasing deals and murdering people who messed with us. I always thought that taking over would be what I'd want too, after growing older."
"You don't want to?" Natasha frowned.
"I don't know," you swallowed. "I don't know anything anymore."
"Well," Natasha licked her lips, trying to conceal her concern for you. "What I can tell you now is that you need to arrange a meeting with Stark and settle this before it all gets very ugly."
You sigh.
"I know."
Between making sure you have enough time for Bucky and all the business of the Syndicate, you're starting to feel a little haggard because you're keeping secrets on both sides.
Until one gets discovered.
"Are you crazy?" Natasha hissed at you.
She cornered you two blocks down after you left Bucky's.
"Are you fucking trailing me?" You seethed at her.
"Of course I'm fucking trailing you!" Natasha exclaimed, throwing her hands up. "You've been acting all gloomy and strange. You've been putting things off, showing up late, and missing half the time. And now I'm finding out it's because of some guy? The dick can't be that good."
"Watch your mouth," you warn Natasha, jaw clenched.
"I'll watch my mouth when you put the Syndicate before him! This was your father's legacy," Natasha emphasized, frowning at you. "This is what he left behind, what supported our lifestyle for years. We have people we have to look after and you've been AWOL for some guy none of us have met!"
You stay silent, guilt thrumming in your chest because you can't seem to do it right anywhere.
"Is it serious?" Natasha asks you finally, and when you don't answer, she has hers.
"If it's serious, then you have few options. You know what they are," Natasha clenches her jaw. "You either leave him now and return to us or you reveal who you are and bring him into the Syndicate by marriage. You know what you have to do if you reveal yourself and he doesn't agree to be a part of the business, don't you?"
Kill him, your mind answers, but you continue to remain silent.
"You can't afford to be soft," Natasha reminds you. "Don't go soft on me because I have to be the one who hardens and cleans up your messes."
It was then your eyes met hers and flashes dangerously. "I'm fucking serious, Nat. Stay the fuck away from him. I might be shit at it but I still give the orders."
Natasha's nostrils flare at you, the way they do when you've argued with her when you were younger, and she's disappointed.
"Figure out what to do because that meeting with Stark is in one month when he's back. If you think your lover can't be with you for who you are, then leave him. This is my home too, don't run it into the ground with your father."
Natasha is quick to turn and leave after, leaving you alone with your thoughts.
She was right—that you needed to figure it out.
But you don't even know how to. How do you make sure Bucky could still love you even if you told him who you really were?
How do you make sure he still looks at you the way he does when he learns you're everything he hates?
"Hm," Bucky looks at you while you lie in bed together. It's one of those rare nights the two of you have kept your hands to yourselves. But it's been a rather long day, and neither you want to admit it's also nice to be able to not fuck—like it means more somehow.
It's the perfect time to bring it up. After all, on your stroll back to his place, the two of you passed by a group of gangsters smoking and talking much too loudly.
You don't recognize them, so you know they aren't a part of your Syndicate. Your people are much more discreet, and they would never sit out in the open like that, flashing around their tattoos for everyone to see.
Still, Bucky makes a disgruntled face and a scoff after you pass them.
"Is there a reason you hate gangs and mobs so much?" You ask quietly as you lie on your side facing him, trying to not let your heart thud too hard.
"Is there a reason I need to?" Bucky turns to you with a cock of his brow.
"No," you answer honestly. "But most people just ignore them. You seem to have a personal grudge."
Bucky is silent for a moment as he stares at the dark ceiling. You're kind of glad it's a little too hard to see anything because you don't want to know his expression. Probably thinly veiled contempt for people like you—not that you could blame him.
Then Bucky sighs, pulling one of his arms from under his head to wrap around your body and pull you closer.
"I actually used to live here with someone else. The things you talked about loving are all the things he bought for me or taught me how to do," Bucky confesses quietly.
You listen quietly, unassuming and uninterrupting. Something tells you that this was the wrong thing to do.
You thought you could make Bucky continue to look at you the same if you just understood why he hated people like you. But maybe you were wrong.
"His name was Steven Grant Rogers, and he was—everything. My best friend, my brother, my confidant. We've been attached to the hip since pre-k. We scrapped, slummed, and lived good together," Bucky smiled in the dark as if he was fondly reliving memories. "Steve was a good guy, you know? He was always a little scrawny little thing, though. Oh, and terrible health problems. Asthmatic as hell. Little guy, big heart. He just—always wanted to be more."
You expected something like how Steve had been in the wrong place, wrong time. Some mobsters killed poor Steven Grant Rogers.
It's how it always was.
"Then Steve somehow got in with the wrong crowd. They were filling his head with ideas that he could be different—strong. They had him partying and easing him into drugs. It was weed at first, helped Steve a little with his sleeping problems. And then it just kept escalating. I tried to get him to stop, but it was just driving a rift between us. Steve always felt I never understood that part of his life—the desire to be something he wasn't," Bucky sighed.
"I thought Steve was already great—there just wasn't anything we could do about his physical health. We couldn't make him suddenly have a healthy body that could run 20 miles and make him shoot up a whole foot taller," Bucky was absently stroking your arm.
"I never knew which gang he was hanging out with, I think Steve hid it for my safety. But all I know is one night, I found a bunch of drugs he was supposed to drive over the border into Mexico. I told him he was fucking crazy and that shit would get him killed. There was no way he could smuggle it over. The dogs alone at the border would sniff it out," Bucky's voice was hard. "He had some plan but I couldn't even listen. Told Steve that if he wanted to get involved in this shit—shit he knew was wrong, then to get out and leave me out of it."
You feel something painful tugging at your chest. Maybe it was the way Bucky sounded so heartbroken.
Maybe because this was sounding familiar.
"Next thing I know, I'm getting a call from the hospital at 4 AM and I'm rushing to the ER but I'm too late. Dead before I could even leave the house," Bucky rasps.
You want to tell Bucky to stop—he doesn't have to bring this up. You're sorry for asking. You're so sorry.
But you remain still, hand tensely on his stomach. "Cops are all over me with questions before I can even process the fact Steve's gone. They're telling me they found him on the side of the road, bullets through his windshield and chest and his car had traces of coke. The bundles were gone, just sprinkles of it everywhere."
It's silent for a moment, with Bucky no longer talking. You feel his arm tight around you, chest taking heavy breaths.
You stroke his stomach, even though you also feel nauseous, but the gesture seems to soothe him enough to talk again.
"I think Steve realized that everything he was doing was wrong—that he'd gotten involved with something he never should've. I think he tried to turn around since his car was driving away from the border when they found it. And I think he tried to let them know he was bringing the goods back or bringing it to the cops to turn himself in alone. I'll never know what the guy was trying to do. Either way, it wasn't what the gangsters liked and they went out to find him. They went out to put a hole in his chest and take back their goods. They went out to kill him and leave him like it wasn't anything."
Bucky then turns to you. There's enough light from outside through the peek of the curtains. You see that Bucky's eyes are rimmed red.
Your chest aches because you know that Bucky misses Steve so much every day without a shadow of a doubt. He misses his friend so much; there's a part of him that's gone now too. It's a part no one, not even you, could fill.
"So, when you ask me why I hate people like them, that's why. Because they can go about their life doing shit like this to people like Steve and it's all just another body to them. Another faceless no one they don't even remember. And people like me can't do anything about it," Bucky's face is so close, you can feel his minty breath on your face.
Your eyes sting for a lot of different reasons.
You wrap your arm further around Bucky, pulling him in close to comfort him. Even though you're the last person who should.
Because your father is the reason why Steven Grant Rogers is dead.
No one knew him by that name, though.
They joked around with the scrawny man, calling him "Captain."
Steven Grant Rogers was a strange person your father used to tell you.
You had no interest in another asthmatic kid who wanted to join your father's Syndicate. He was just one of the other hundreds of similar guys who wanted to.
Everyone thinks being in a mob is glamourous, and parts of it are. But it's also gruelling work when you're at the bottom of the chain and when you get higher, the shit you have to do just gets more gruesome.
But your father always liked people with upstanding morals.
And apparently, Steve had enough to earn him the nickname Captain—or Cap.
You might've seen him once in passing. It was the time of your life where you were less present in the business. You simply preferred travelling and blowing massive amounts of daddy's money.
So, when you came home one day after Nat called you to say your father was upset and needed family, you were surprised to hear that Steve was dead.
Betrayed, your dad told you. Betrayed by Cap. A man who your dad took under his wing like his own. It was just an initiation job Steve was to do on his own.
And when Steve called your dad to say he couldn't do it, couldn't live like this anymore—wanted out. Your dad told him the same rules he's told everyone—even you.
There is no out. Blood in, blood out—that's the only way.
You look at Bucky's peacefully sleeping face. It was clear he felt lighter after confessing to you, opening up to you.
You felt the opposite.
You felt like the anchor to your ankle tightened, and you were sinking even faster than before.
Understanding Bucky only led to one thing—cementing his hatred for you once he found out.
You couldn't keep Bucky, nor could he keep you.
The choice was clear.
You had to leave him.
Bucky's not sure what he's done wrong.
You've stopped answering his calls and texts.
You've stopped showing up at his place. Everything that was you in his apartment is gone.
Not even a single sock left.
Well, that's not true.
You did leave something.
A post-it note that says, "It's over. I don't want to see you ever again. Don't reach out."
The way you were when he first met you. It had lingered under the surface and never showed itself to him, but now it was directed at him.
It's possible you've blocked his number or changed it.
Bucky's sure he's hit the ground now, and his heart is the very first thing to break while his bones feel sore.
There's no closure, and Bucky doesn't think you'll ever give him one. He should just suck it up, take the loss, and move on. He should let time do its thing and forget about you.
But he can't.
Bucky was in too deep. He already knows. He's devastatingly in love with you.
That's why he has shown up at your place. It's much richer and posher than he ever expected. He knew the community you lived in—he's still surprised that he's stuck outside your gates.
Bucky showed up at 8 PM, and you weren't home. Now it was nearing 1 AM.
He looks up when he sees a black car pull up. It stops just a little ways away from him. The driver window rolls down for a brief moment before it rolls back up.
Then in the back, the door opens, and you step out.
You look...different. A little sharper than when you're with him.
You tap the driver's window.
"Are you sure?" Bucky hears faintly.
"Leave, and don't say a word to Nat," you warn.
Bucky blinks because he's never heard you sound so cold.
You wait until the car leaves until you can't see it anymore and turn to him, eyes dispassionate.
"Why are you here, Bucky? Didn't you get my letter?" You ask him plainly.
Bucky gets up with a grunt, frowning at you.
"Can you even call that a letter? You wrote it on a sticky note," Bucky quirks his brow at you.
"All I had at the time," you shrug as you walk past him, entering the code to your gates, and it opens. "The message remains the same. It's over and I don't want to see you."
But Bucky grabs your hand as he trailed after you.
"Why? Why is it over? Did I do something?" Bucky asks you, trying to not sound desperate, but his eyes give that away.
You keep walking, pulling your hand out of Bucky's.
"No, you didn't." You said briskly as you reached your front steps. You turn to him. "Go home, Bucky. It's over because it just is. Are you going to stand there and try to make me stay with you? Is that the kind of man you are?" You taunt him.
Bucky bristles at your words, trying to push them aside because you're only saying them to get a rise out of Bucky—to make him quit.
But he won't.
"No, but until you tell me why it's over and until it's a reason I can accept, I'm not going home," Bucky insists. "You don't get to say you woke up one moment because you suddenly fell out of love—and don't play stupid and act like you don't love me. I know you do, I've already known for months."
You swallow harshly as Bucky pushes past you into your home.
It's as lonely as you described.
Meaningless art with posh furniture.
"I have nothing to say to you, Bucky. Leave before I get mean with you," you warn him, threaten him.
Bucky snorts. "Mean with me, doll? You don't think you're already being mean? You left a sticky note saying it was over and not to seek you out. I think you're already past mean. You're fucking hostile."
You purse your lips because you're frustrated.
Why couldn't Bucky just be the man who cursed you, wished you ill, and forgot about you?
Why did he have to come here and be so annoyingly persistent?
"I'm just over you, Bucky," you say dispassionately. "What we had was good but I'm done with it now. Don't tell me just because I fucked you on the daily—because we ate together that you thought I wanted that forever. I'm doing that with three different guys right now."
That causes a look of anger in Bucky's eyes, and you hope that he'll just call you names and then leave.
"No," Bucky grinds out. "I thought you wanted that forever because after you fucked me, you stayed in my bed—in my arms as you fell asleep. Because before and after we ate, we did everything and nothing and all that's in between. You're pretty stellar, doll, but even you don't have enough time or energy to do that with three different guys."
"Just get out and leave, Bucky. How many times does a girl have to tell you that she's fucking over you for you to leave? Are you always this pathetic?" You tilt your head with a smirk. "What? Do you want to have breakup sex before it's over? Or do you think your dick is so good it might be able to convince me to stay?"
Bucky just stares at you.
This isn't you.
And no matter how many terrible things you say to him, he's never going to believe that's how you truly feel.
Because the only way for Bucky to confirm that is to get you on that precipice.
Bucky surges forward, catching you in a surprising kiss as he backs you into your too expensive couch.
You moan instantly in his mouth.
"Moaning just from that, doll?" Bucky taunts you. "Maybe my dick might be good enough to convince you at the very least you're wrong."
Bucky's kissing you again, pulling you close to him as he strokes down your side, pulling one thigh open for him to fall between your legs.
When his erection hits your clothed pussy, you arch your back, whimpering in his mouth as your hips rise.
"I really hope you're not seeing three guys because you're so fucking needy for me right now. That would just be sad if none of them are taking care of you properly," Bucky's just being mean now, and you deserve it for breaking his heart and trying to rub salt in his very open wounds.
But Bucky's much kinder than you and goes back to silently making his point instead of dishing back what you gave.
He makes work of kissing your neck, sucking and licking as his fingers unbutton your shirt. He presses his hand against your back, lifting you to take your shirt off before unhooking your bra and throwing that away too.
"Always so pretty," he mutters before he takes a nipple into his mouth, licking and nipping until the nub becomes a hard pebble.
His fingers have already dipped into your pants, past your underwear, as his calloused pads of his fingers slip through your folds. Bucky rubs you lewdly, firmly, without holding back as he circles your clit and teasingly presses against your entrance.
You get slick for him easily and quickly, your mouth letting out pants and moans for him as you try to make work of undoing his belt and pulling down his zipper.
You don't want the foreplay, and it's clear Bucky is getting you soaked to take his cock tonight.
When Bucky pulls his hand out, grabbing onto the edge of your pants and panties as he rips it down, you're too eager to help him help you out of them. He makes quick work of his own pants and shirt before he spreads you as wide as he can.
With one sharp thrust, he sinks into you fully, stretching you so wide and filling you up.
You let out a hot moan when he settles all the way in. Fuck, he was perfect. He filled you so good, so perfectly. You missed it.
Bucky presses his entire front against you, pressing you firmly into the couch as he kisses you deeply for a moment. He pulls back just enough that his lips are ghosting over yours.
And then he fucks you.
His thrusts are deep and punishing. He changes his angle and continuously swipes over that spongy, bumpy spot in you. Over and over until you're legs are wrapped around his hips so tightly like you want to keep him in you.
Your hands are gripping the back of his hair as you whimper and cry, choking on your moans as Bucky whispers in your ear, trying to push you to that edge.
"You know you're mine, doll. Why are you pretending you aren't? I'm out here giving all of myself to you and you're trying to pretend you don't want me? It's hard to pretend right now, though, isn't it? When you're wrapped so tightly around my cock, thrusting against me so desperately because you want me to make you cum," Bucky nibbles your ear, causing a high-pitched yelp from you. "Fuck, you're always so tight for me. How are you always so fucking tight? You love me, admit you love me."
You shake your head, trying to breathe through the quickly rising wave that wants to crash. You try to stave off your impending orgasm, the one that would be admitting how much you want Bucky, but he isn't having any of that.
"Oh, no," Bucky tuts. "Don't go doing that now, doll. Open your eyes for me. Open them right now because you know I like seeing your pretty eyes when you cum for me."
You try to refuse, but when Bucky's gripping the back of your hair, a hot wave of arousal pulses through you as your eyes snap open and you stare into his eyes.
Even when he's mad at you, even when he's heartbroken. He still looks at you so openly.
That too tight coil in you snaps when Bucky's hand slides down to thrum at your clit.
You cum with a choked whimper, thrusting upwards into him as he curses and smashes his lips against yours. His hips move jaggedly until you feel his hot spend coat your walls, filling you and dripping out.
He falls on top of you; though heavy, his weight is comforting. It's just the sounds of heavy breathing from the two of you that fill the room.
When it finally calms down, Bucky lifts himself to hover over you. He's got that look of triumph on his face. He's got that look because he got you on that precipice, and just before you came, he got the truth he wanted.
You want him. You love him. And for some reason, you won't let yourself.
You stare at him, feeling—numb.
"Still want to tell me you're over me?" Bucky asks softly.
You fight tooth and nail in your own body to not let the tears well up.
You swallow. You need to shove down those feelings, even though they were right on the surface for Bucky to see.
Because if lying to him won't work anymore, then you'll tell the truth. And you'll do it the way that forces you to face your worst fear.
Seeing how that look of love will really turn to hate for all the right reasons instead of the lie you tried to build.
"Fine," you say, no longer dispassionate and instead with nothing but emotion. "I'm not over you. I'm never going to be over you. But we're never going to work, Bucky. And you know why?"
You use your strength and his lack of awareness to flip the two of you over. He's still in you when you're on top of him.
You stare down at him, and you can't help the burn in the back of your eyes. Why does he have to look so—Bucky.
You lean down, so you're closer to his face.
"My father is the man who killed Steve Rogers. Congratulations, Bucky. You've gone and fell in love with the daughter of the Syndicate that got your friend killed. And you know what else? You're also fucking the boss of that Syndicate now." You watch as Bucky's eyes go wide, shock registering in his system. It's all you can take. You don't want to watch the shock go away and morph into something else.
You slide off of him, resisting the urge to moan as he slides out of you.
You get up, collecting his clothes and dumping them on him. You stare down at him, and you know your eyes are rimmed red as he sits up and stares back at you.
"So, if you're done trying to make me stay and realize you should've gone—go home. And don't come back. We could never work, and this is where you realize you don't want it to."
You grab your shirt, if only to put it on to cover your physical nakedness. It doesn't help you stop feeling vulnerable.
You turn to leave, ready to go upstairs and leave Bucky to go alone. He could break your shit for all you care—could burn the house right down with you in it, and it would've been fine.
But somehow, somehow, Bucky's grabbing your hand again.
You turn to him, exasperated and tears in your eyes.
"Will you just stop trying to leave for one damn minute!?" He shouts at you, and you're stung into surprise.
"Let me just fucking process everything for a second," Bucky frustratingly says as he pulls you back to the couch and forces you to sit down.
"What's there to process?" You bite out. "I'm a crime boss of a Syndicate and my family is the one who got Steve killed. Stop trying to make excuses for me and just—leave. You hate these kinds of people, Bucky. And I'm at the top of those kinds of people. It's time to wake up and realize you hate me."
"Don't tell me what to feel, doll," Bucky says warningly at you. "I have questions and you're going to answer them."
You're silent, ready for the questions and also not ready.
"Your dad is dead?"
"Heart attack."
"Why did he kill Steve?"
"He said he took Steve in like one of his own and Steve betrayed him. I'm assuming that meant Steve was going to try to turn himself in or the drugs. It would've led back to the Syndicate."
"Did you have anything to do with it?"
"No, I wasn't interested in the business during this time. I don't remember ever meeting Steve."
"Have you done anything like this since taking over?"
"No. I can't say I'm a good crime boss. I know how the business works and I can do parts of it, but everything was rather—sudden." You look away. It's not fair to be sad about your dad's death with Bucky right there. You hate yourself when Bucky squeezes your hand.
You wish he'd let go.
"You've killed people then?"
"I've sent orders. Usually wars between other Syndicates. We're in a tough period since my dad has passed. A lot of people are trying to take advantage of the new kid in power—even if the Syndicate belongs to me by blood," you confess, feeling distinctly uncomfortable.
It's silent for a minute, and you want to pull your hand away if Bucky wasn't holding it so tightly.
Bucky just stares at you while you look straight forward.
"One more question," Bucky says slowly. "Is this what you continue to want? Do you want to be the crime boss of a Syndicate? Is this the life you want?"
You turn to stare at Bucky. His face holds no emotion, so you have no idea how he's feeling and for once, his eyes are guarded.
You knew it would be, but it still stung.
You let out a sigh.
"No," you finally say. "I did—at one point. Inheriting all this was always part of the plan. I just thought in some vague distant far part of the plan. I never really thought about it much. I'm capable of this work but I just—" you shook your head.
"Stop holding back," Bucky pushes you because he's not letting you hide this time. If he's going to fall, he's not going to let you dawdle if you want a parachute or not while joining him. He's going to rip your parachute right off.
You swallow as you look at him. "I just—want you. I didn't think meeting you would lead to all of this. But now, I can't stop wanting something that's going to get us both killed. I want to live in Barcelona where you sell stupid boats and I actually am a paint dealer because we do need money. I want that if I look out the window, I can see you all day and then we eat ridiculously good food that we both have concerns about becoming unhealthily obese quickly and both not really care because that's our life. Working weird hours and eating whatever we want when we want."
Bucky squints his eyes at you, unsure of what to make of what you're saying, but it's blooming something in his chest. It's all painful and muddled up with everything else that has happened recently.
He wonders why in this fantasy, he sells boats. Are boats popular in Barcelona?
You're quiet again, and Bucky has finally run out of questions. He leans back against your posh couch and thinks about how it's not worn in enough.
Bucky thinks about so many things.
He thinks about Steve and wonders if it's still okay to love you. It's easier knowing you had nothing to do with his death.
While it'd be easier to blame you because of your blood relations, Steve would probably punch him in the mouth. He's a good guy like that.
Is it still okay to love you knowing you've got blood on your hands? That you're capable of getting more if you had to.
Bucky's not sure.
But it doesn't stop his heart from feeling what it does.
He turns to you, and you watch him with open eyes. He wants to laugh. How the tables have turned.
"I love you," Bucky says, and he watches you swallow with tears in your eyes. "I love you even though you're the kind of people I hate. I love you and I want that kind of life you've just talked about. I'm not 100% sold on the boat idea, though."
You choke on a laugh.
Bucky smiles. He's super tired.
"Can we have that though?" He asks, and you know what he's really asking.
Are you willing to abandon everything to have that life?
Bucky's no stranger to blood in, blood out. You don't get special treatment just because you're a crime boss. If anything, it's harder.
You stare at him.
Finally, you're really looking at him with everything you have, and it feels so—right.
You lean over to kiss him, revelling in the way he kisses you back.
Because Bucky Barnes loves you. He loves you even though he knows the truth.
"Yes," you tell him. "Hope you don't sunburn easily. Also boats are a great idea, you'll see."
The meeting with Stark had been a bust. His ego is way too big to even consider a détente.
It had ended with people being killed on both sides as you both escaped. You hadn't been in a good mood, and that was when you realized Bucky was sitting on the ground outside your gates.
Still, it was the best thing that he could've done. You're glad you're terrible with emotions and thought a sticky note would really keep him away.
Or maybe you knew it wouldn't. Maybe you held onto hope even though there was no reason for you.
There was some intel that Stark was planning to blow up one of your warehouses in the next week. It would probably be one of the bigger ones. He did want to try to stick it to you and cost your Syndicate money.
That was Natasha's problem now.
"Are you sure about this?" Natasha asks with a frown.
She's family. The most wonderful thing you have left of this world.
The only one who could understand that it doesn't have to be blood in, blood out.
Because she's not your blood, and she's family, your inner family.
"I think it's for the best," you mutter as you fidget with a puzzle. "I told you I wasn't like you. You're more fit to run this thing if you want to keep it out of the ground."
"But your father—"
"—is dead," you finish as you look up at her.
"If he wants to keep his legacy running, then he'll jump for joy at the thought of you taking over because I'm the selfish daughter that would run it into the ground," you smile prettily while Natasha scoffs.
"You love him that much?" She asks.
For a moment, you soften, the way Natasha has never seen you before.
"So much that I'd come up with new rules to be with him," you say quietly. "Besides, we're the new generation. We should make our own rules. Get married or die is way outdated."
"Ah, yes," Natasha said dryly. "I love faking your own death to be with the man you love because he can't stomach joining a mob Syndicate because his best friend was murdered by one is so much better."
"It's interesting at least," you laugh. "Besides, it'll give leeway for you to take over much easier. I even left my will here. See?"
Natasha clicks her tongue at it.
"You have everything else prepared?" Natasha asks, and you nod.
"All the stuff I need to start over is good to go."
"And did you..."
"Clean up loose ends? Yes," you sigh. "Bucky wasn't happy with me."
"And he just forgave you?"
"It helped I chose someone who also dabbled in child pornography to set up our documents. I don't think Bucky was too morally conflicted to see him go," you shrugged. "He helped me get rid of the body."
"Glad you two are bonding," Natasha shook her head with a sigh.
You hum.
It's a long moment before Natasha pulls you in for a rare, tight hug.
"Be safe," she mumbles. "Don't actually get blown up. I'll miss you."
"I'll miss you, too," you hug her back, tears welling in your eyes. "We'll meet again if we ever cross paths. Hopefully after you're a badass crime boss that's taken Stark down a few notches. I mean, you have to avenge my tragic death."
Natasha just laughs.
1 year later...
You hear the door ring as it opens.
You look up from the counter and give a hopeless grin.
"Back again, Rafael?" You sigh. "What did you do this time?"
The man just laughs as you start preparing a bouquet for him.
"I brought home the wrong ice cream," he says with a shrug.
You click your tongue at him. "How could you forget again? You did this three weeks ago."
"She changes her favourite flavour every week! I can't keep up," Rafael frowned.
"She's making a human, a human that's half yours," you quirk a brow at him. "She's entitled to changing her ice cream flavour if she wants."
Rafael sighs but good-naturedly as you finish fixing his bouquet.
"I should go talk to Steve out there, huh? All he does is sell boats and manage to keep you happy. How is that?"
You smile as you look at the window, staring at your husband, who is fixing up a boat. It's like he can sense when you're looking at him as he looks up, giving you a charming smirk.
"Stevie's a whole other level. It's best not to compare. He's crazily good at knowing everything about me by just looking into my eyes."
"But how!" Rafael exclaims.
"Um, something about precipice and practice," you tilt your head.
"Unhelpful," Rafael tuts, and you laugh.
"I'll give a ten percent discount due to my unhelpfulness, how's that?"
"You are an angel. Maybe I should try to look in your eyes and see if I have this superpower too," Rafael waggles his brow, and before you can retort, the door rings again as it opens.
"Stop hitting on my wife, Rafael, you're going to end up having to come back twice if your wife finds out."
You look up and see your husband, tanned and delicious.
"And who would tell her?" Rafael quirked his brow.
"Me, and I'm sure she's already one step from leaving you if you dawdle any longer with your flowers and ice cream," your husband smirks.
Rafael curses as he winks at you before giving your husband a nod and leaves.
When it's just the two of you, you beckon him closer to the counter. You tug on his shirt as you pull him in for a sweet kiss.
"Hi," you say.
"Hi," he husks back.
"I miss calling you Bucky," you sigh.
"Stevie's not as fun?" Bucky smiles.
"It's alright," you crinkle your nose.
"You can still call me Bucky in bed," he waggled his eyebrows at you as he hops over the counter to kiss you again.
"Mm," you hum in pleasure. "We'll see if we're up for those kinds of activities after we go eat tonight."
Bucky looks excited. "Can we go to the usual? I can't get enough of the calamari."
You snicker but nod before you look around.
"I can't believe you went and opened a flower shop too. Isn't art dealing enough?" Bucky sighs.
"The flower shop is just an add on, you big baby. I meet my clients here and they like buying flowers too. Besides, you like seeing me here every day. And I like it too," you pout.
Bucky sighs. "Shit, we're that clingy couple. Can't function without seeing each other."
You smile.
"That's a good thing," you decide.
"You're a good thing," Bucky shoots back haughtily like you should be offended.
You roll your eyes as you pull Bucky in for another kiss—much longer and deeper. You love that he still smells like pinewood and clean laundry. But now he also smells like the ocean, and you adore it. Because the ocean was something you added to him.
"Always let me be your good thing," you mutter against his lips.
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Moodboard: @empyreanwritings 💕💕
I love these two so much 😭💕 If this flops I will actually pretend this never happened LMAO so please comment & reblog if you enjoyed 😊
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kinanabinks · 6 months ago
10/10 wouldn't put it past steve to spike her drink with something that'll make her horny af or make her use wear some bikini that'll make her pussy and tiddies and....well, we all know what happens next. and i would 10/10 gladly accept my fate if he resorts to that plan 😌
oh my GOD. Lord help me why is this so hot.
(doesn’t really fit into the koala!steve universe so instead i’m just writing it as a dark!steve one shot)
WARNING: dark!steve, innocent!reader, dub!con, manipulation, toxicity, steve drugs reader (side effects similar to sex pollen), age gap, smut
It was meant to be a boys’ holiday. It was meant to be an opportunity for Steve to relax, and not have to watch his friends fawn over their wives and long-term girlfriends as always.
But Steve Rogers had gotten used to being disappointed.
When Bucky first told him, sheepishly with flushed cheeks, that he, Sam and Thor would all be inviting their partners on vacation, Steve almost socked him straight in the jaw.
“I know this was supposed to be a guys thing,” Bucky said apologetically. “But you know how convincing the girls can be.”
Steve almost pulled out. He almost refused to go, just to be spiteful. Bucky’s girlfriend was bringing her younger sister, for Christ’s sake. This was turning into a big family holiday, when all Steve wanted was to get drunk on the beach and fuck hookers.
When he saw you at the airport, he did a double take. Who the fuck looks that good for a plane ride? He was almost about to approach you, try and use some of that Rogers charm to get your number, when he saw you walking over to him. Nice. He guessed he must have looked pretty good, too.
“Hey, Y/N!” Bucky suddenly called out from besides Steve before pulling you in for a tight hug.
Steve was confused. What were the chances that Bucky knew a stranger at an airport?
“Y/N, this is Steve,” Bucky introduced, before patting Steve’s shoulder. “Steve, this is Y/N; Gia’s sister.”
He almost choked. You were Gia’s sister? The same annoying, overbearing Gia that had her claws deep in Bucky’s shoulders for the past three years?
“Hi,” You greeted, holding out your hand for him to shake. “Gia’s told me so much about you. Your career is inspiring!”
Steve took your hand and placed a kiss to the back of it, making you blush. “Hi there. I have to say, Gia failed to tell me how beautiful you are.”
You immediately look down, before your eyes widen. “Shit! Speaking of Gia; she told me to meet her at Subway. I’ll be right back!”
With that, you sprinted off, leaving the two men alone.
Bucky was giving Steve narrow eyes, causing Steve to chuckle. “What you giving me that look for?”
“You need to relax,” Bucky said sternly. “Y/N’s in college. She’s just a kid. And if you try anything with her-”
“Woah, Buck,” Steve cut him off. “What are you accusing me of here?”
“Nothing,” Bucky replied, before coldly adding, “Yet. If you so much as even think about flirting with her-”
“Come on, now-”
“Let alone touch her, I will end you,” Bucky finished with a clenched jaw. “Gia knows what you’re like. She made me promise to keep a leash on you. Touch Y/N, and Gia will kill us both.”
“Bucky, listen to me,” Steve ordered, meeting his best friend’s eyes. “I’m not interested in Y/N, alright? I promise. I was just being polite. She seems like a sweet kid.”
“She is,” Bucky said. “And she’s off-limits.”
Steve was bad at following rules. Steve was even worse at keeping promises.
How could he, when you were parading around the private beach in nothing but a skimpy swimsuit?
“You alright there, Lips?” Steve asked, staring at you. He was so grateful to whoever invented sunglasses; they allowed him to keep his eyes lustfully drinking you in even when Bucky and Gia were around.
You giggled at his nickname before twirling around to face him. “Just staring out at the water, Mr. Rogers.”
He never once told you that you could call him Steve, because he loved the way ‘Mr. Rogers’ sounded coming from your pretty mouth. The others had gone in for the resort’s buffet dinner, but you and Steve had filled up on street food earlier so you stayed out to watch the sunset. 
“Can I sit here?” You questioned him shyly, walking over to the deck chair next to his.
“Of course, Lips,” He replied almost instantly, turning his head to face you. “You know you don’t have to ask.”
You sat down before giving him a small smile. “Why do you call me ‘Lips’?”
Steve hardly skipped a beat before answering. “’Cos of that gorgeous red lipstick you love wearing every day.”
Your cheeks heat up at his words, but you shook your head and laughed it off. “Can I admit something, Mr. Rogers?”
This was it. This was the moment when you’d tell him you were just as horny for him as he was for you, and he’d fuck you right here on the sand and it would would be the naughtiest, filthiest secret you’d both ever keep.
“I’m something of a... fan of your work,” You said when he prompted you to continue. “I know I said Gia told me about you, but I actually already knew a lot about you - not in a weird way, more like in a admiring way. Like, you inspire me.”
“Really?” Steve asked with a wide smile. “I’m honored.” And incredibly intrigued by what you could possibly mean by ‘know a lot about you’.
“Your entire career is nothing short of electric,” You went on to say, excitement in your voice. “You’re actually the reason I chose to major in Engineering.”
Steve pulled up his sunglasses, needing to get a proper look at you. With shock, he chuckled. “Seriously?”
“Mhm,” You said. “And I can’t believe I told you that. Sorry. You probably get admirers everywhere you go, and now you’re on vacation and you’re still being fawned over-”
“Hey hey, don’t be silly,” He cut you off gently. “Usually, when someone tells me they admire my work, it’s an old guy. I don’t often get pretty little things like you interested in my job.”
You laughed, before looking back out to the blue ocean.
Scanning your body, Steve reached his hand out and rested it on your shoulder. “Be a good girl and go get me another beer.”
Subconsciously, your finger moved to your mouth and you bit down on it, causing him to smirk.
“You like that?” He asked, stroking your arm. “Being called a good girl?”
Your giggles told him that you do, but you shook your head as though you were shaking away the naughty thoughts.
“In that case,” Steve began, mischief in his tone. “Be a good girl and do as I say.”
You got up, obediently getting a beer from the cooler. When you returned, he pulled the beer bottle a little too hard, causing you to land on his lap.
“I’m so sorry,” You stumbled, attempting to get up. He kept his grip tight on you, though, preventing you from standing.
Before you could have asked what he was doing, Steve pressed his lips to yours in a hungry kiss. Shocked, you used all your strength to rip yourself out of his grip, your eyes wide.
“Don’t worry,” He assured you, standing up too.
“No,” You said, unable to meet his eyes. "I'm sorry, Mr. Rogers, but I have a boyfriend."
Steve was taken aback. Usually, when he came on to someone, they'd be in his bed within minutes. It didn't matter if they had been married to another man for 10 years; Steve Rogers got what he wanted.
"I can't say I'm surprised," He said lowly, the look on your face leaving him no choice but to accept defeat. "I apologize, Y/N."
He was not used to the feeling of embarrassment, and he didn't enjoy it.
Three days.
You had managed to avoid being alone with Steve for three entire days. The vacation was in its final throes, and Steve was miserable. He hadn't managed to sleep with anyone, much less you.
"What's got you down, brother?" A stranger asked him on the beach bar one late evening.
Steve sighed, staring over to where you were dancing around with the others.
"Woman troubles?" The stranger pushed, causing Steve to look over at him.
"Something like that," Steve answered cryptically.
The stranger had an odd look in his eyes. "I can help you out if the problem comes from down south."
"Excuse me?" Steve asked with a frown, wondering why this man was even talking to him.
"If you are having an issue with your lovemaking," The stranger began, "I have just the thing. A concoction to get your juices flowing. You'll be harder and hornier than ever before- your wife will be delighted."
Steve snorted. "That's the last thing I need right now." If he got any hornier, he likely would've imploded.
"Well then, for your friends?" The stranger went on. "Any of them having trouble getting hard, or staying hard?"
Giving him a blank look, Steve sighed. "Surprisingly, the typical topic of discussion with my friendship doesn't consist of whether or not we suffer from erectile dysfunction."
"Not just erectile dysfunction," The stranger persisted. "It's holistic. Your mind, your soul, your body; it makes it so that the only human need you want to fulfil is sexual satisfaction."
Steve's eyes landed on you, and your gorgeous body. An idea entered his head. "Does it work on women?"
The stranger scratched his head. "Um, a woman hasn't ever tried it."
"I'll take some," Steve stated, taking out his wallet. "Give me three doses."
"Woah now, one dose is more than enough for a man," The stranger said with wide eyes. "For a woman, I'd recommend less than half a dose. Especially the first time."
Taking out 500 Euros, Steve's eyes darkened as he stared down at the man. "Three."
The stranger gulped. 500 Euros was more than he was planning on making all month from this stupid sex drug, so he immediately took the money and handed Steve the potions. "Use them carefully, Sir. I can't predict what the outcome will be on a woman; especially in such high dosage."
Steve ignored his words and pocketed the pink vials, a cunning smirk growing on his lips as he watched you dancing.
"I'm not sure what it is," You complained, rubbing your head. "I just don't feel so good."
Bucky was sitting on the edge of your bed, rubbing your arm with a sorrowful look. "Might be food poisoning, kid."
"But I don't feel any stomach pain or nausea at all," You say confusedly. "I just... feel dizzy, and uncomfortable." And for some reason like you wanted Bucky to do more than just rub your arm.
"Maybe we should stay on the resort today," Gia suggested, touching up her hair in the mirror.
"No; you put so much time and effort into that itinerary," You argued. "You guys go ahead and stick to the schedule. They have a resident nurse here; I'll go visit them if I need to."
"I don't feel good about leaving you here alone," Gia pouted, before her eyes widened. "Hang on. I need to pee."
She rushed into the bathroom, while you sighed and looked over to Bucky. "You have to convince her to go. I'll be fine; I probably just drank too much last night."
Bucky moved closer, a concerned look on his face. "Are you sure you'll be alright here alone? What if you start feeling worse?"
His hand continued stroking your arm, and you felt tingles. You tried to ignore it, but you couldn't help but feel overwhelmed by the intense desire to be touched even more by him. "I'll be fine," You mumbled, placing your hand on his upper thigh and giving him an innocent look. "I promise to call you if I need you."
Bucky held back a shudder when your hand squeezed down on his thigh. When he felt his cock harden, he removed your fingers from his leg and cleared his throat. Sure, he thought you were gorgeous, and felt the need to keep you protected- but he hadn't let his thoughts get any darker than that. Sometimes he couldn't control it, especially when you wore those mini skirts and that damn red lipstick you loved so much, but he could never act on it. You were his girlfriend's little sister, for crying out loud. He loved Gia.
Thankfully, Gia walked back in again, making you unnecessarily angry. You didn't know why her presence pissed you off so much suddenly, or why you were just now realizing how fucking hot and big and strong her boyfriend was, but you had to control yourself.
"That soap smells glorious," She commented, sniffing her hands.
Just then, Steve entered your room, making your eyes widen. You couldn't get the memory of Steven fucking Rogers, your absolute inspiration and role model, trying to kiss you. You felt bad for wanting it for a split second before remembering your boyfriend, and you knew you had to stay away from Steve before things got any more steamy.
Now, though, seeing him walk in your room almost made you moan out loud. He was shirtless and in grey joggers, the outline of his fat cock shamelessly pressed against the soft material. You wanted to eat it.
"Morning, guys," He greeted, running his hand through his hair. "Just wanted to let you know I'm not feeling so good today. Might just stay in my room, see if I feel any better." He didn't even look at you, because he knew how horny you must have been after those three doses he slipped into your drink the night before. He knew that keeping you starved of his attention would only make you crave him even more.
Gia's eyes lit up. "Yes! I mean, I'm sorry you're not feeling well, but neither is Y/N - you can both keep each other company today."
"Yeah, okay," Steve said casually, secretly pumped.
Bucky should've noticed the hungry look in his best friend's eyes. He should've pulled Steve to the side and warned him not to touch you. He should've made sure not to leave you alone with Steve, and prevented him from having full access to you.
But Bucky was distracted with recovering from the boner you gave him, desperately trying to take his mind off of your body so his dick would soften before Gia saw it.
"Good idea," You said, unable to hide your excitement as you got up onto your knees.
Steve couldn't keep his eyes off of you any longer. He scanned you up and down, taking in your skimpy tank top and tight shorts as you remained on your knees, a dumbstruck look on your face.
"Great," Gia chirped before linking her arm in Bucky's. "See you guys later! Keep us updated!"
You and Steve mumbled your responses while they left the room, the sound of the door shutting making you release your inhibitions.
"Shove your cock down my throat," You stated bluntly, unable to hide your desires. Nothing else mattered. You felt no shame, embarrassment, or even loyalty to your boyfriend anymore. All you felt was horny.
Steve wanted to do as you said. Fuck, he wanted so badly to fuck your face until your tears were mixing with his cum pouring out your mouth. But he knew he had to make this last. It was his only opportunity.
So he just laughed and shook his head. "Don't be silly, kiddo. Wanna watch a movie?"
You were utterly shocked. All week, he had been desperate for you and you knew it, and now that you were ready for him, he didn't want you anymore?
Once you were lying side by side on your bed, watching an animated film, you decided to try again. You trailed your fingers down his bare chest, making his abs flex.
“What are you doing?” He asked sternly, tightly grabbing your fingers.
“Touching you,” You whisper back, your eyes wide. Without warning, you get on top of him, straddling his waist. “Let me touch you, Mr. Rogers.”
He swallowed thickly. Not yet. “You need to get off of me, kid-”
“Stop calling me that!” You whined like a brat, moving your hips and making him gasp. “I wasn’t a kid when you kissed me.”
“That was a mistake,” He said, but you weren’t having any of it.
You began bucking your hips hard and fast, rubbing your crotch over his growing boner. Your juices had soaked through your panties and were beginning to moisten your shorts, almost making him cum then and there.
With a deep breath, he grabbed your hips and pushed you back down onto the bed before climbing on top of you. “You need to stop it right now, Y/N,” He scolded sternly, giving you a frown. “You’re being very naughty.”
You sighed dreamily at his authoritative tone, his boner digging into your thigh. “Then punish me, daddy.”
Steve almost fainted. With no warning, you pulled off your tank top, revealing your breasts to him. He practically drooled, his eyes hooked to your hardened nipples. He made a mental note to find and thank the stranger at the bar.
“Taste them,” You coaxed him, a look of intense lust in your eyes.
Meeting your gaze, Steve’s face dropped. “No.”
With that, he rolled off from on top of you and turned his attention back to the movie, making you scoff. “Seriously?”
He didn’t respond, leaving you to lie there half-naked while staring at the tent in his pants. Deciding you needed to take it up a notch, you slipped your hand down your shorts and past your panties. Steve noticed immediately, but he didn’t react.
“Oh, yes,” You moaned, your head digging back into the pillow. “That feels so fucking good.”
Steve’s mind went fuzzy. He couldn’t even hear the movie anymore; all he could hear was the sound of your wetness as you rubbed your clit. 
“Daddy,” You whined softly, still not feeling satisfied. It wasn’t enough to masturbate. “Please, help me.”
He let out a long sigh. You were gonna be the death of him.
“Please, daddy,” You cried, pulling off your shorts and underwear before slipping your fingers back into your cunt. “I need your cock, Mr. Rogers.”
Steve turned onto his side, making your heart race as he looked down at you. Bringing up his hand, he stroked your cheek gently. “If I help you, do you promise you won’t tell anyone?”
You nodded urgently, your eyes filling with tears because of how frustrated and needy you were. “I promise, Mr. Rogers.”
“You won’t tell your sister?” He mumbled, an innocent look on his face. “You won’t tell Bucky?”
You shook your head, “I won’t. I promise, Sir, I won’t tell anyone.”
Steve smiled, satisfied with your answer. He lowered his hand and replaced your fingers with his, playing with your pussy with more skill than anyone else you had ever been with. It was like he knew you better than you knew yourself; exploring your cunt and rubbing your clit like he had the blueprint of your body memorized. 
“Oh, yes,” You moaned, the fire you were feeling finally being soothed. “Keep going, Mr. Rogers.”
He bit his lip at the name, before slowly reaching into his pants and pulling out his swollen cock. Lifting up your leg that was closest to him, he turned you on your side so that your back was against his front. Your leg was pulled up so he could plunge his dick into you deeper, his chin resting on your shoulder.
You let out a cry of relief as he filled you up and stretched you out magnificently, leaving no room for want. This was perfect. This was what you had been craving without even knowing it.
Steve let out grunts as he started pummeling into you, his balls slapping against your ass with each thrust. He kept one hand on your leg, keeping it stretched upwards, and the other around your neck, keeping your body close to him and squeezing the sides of your throat every so often.
“Your pussy belongs right here,” He whispered into your ear, his tone grave and merciless. “Wrapped around my cock, milking it. Taking every fucking inch.”
You let out incoherent moans punctuated with sobs as he slammed his dick in and out of you, his hot breath on your neck.
“You always knew you’d end this trip as my filthy little slut, didn’t you?” He asked teasingly, a smirk on his lips. “Mr. Rogers’ personal fuck bunny. That’s all you are now.”
Your mind went blank and you could only process pleasure, his dirty words driving you insane.
“Don’t worry; when we go home, you’ll still be my cockwhore,” He snarled. “I’ll have to snatch you away in private. Steal you and hide you and keep you all to myself.”
A weak cry left your lips as he hit your g-spot, sending electric waves through your body.
“That’s a good idea, isn’t it?” He uttered, speeding up his thrusts. “They’d think you were kidnapped. That some sick monster killed you and buried the body. They’d never guess you were in my house, locked up safely for me.”
His words scared you. He wasn’t being serious, was he?
“Hidden away, just for me,” Steve continued. “My little fuck bunny. That’s all you’ll be good for. All you’ll be used for.”
A whimper left your mouth. You felt yourself clench around his cock, but you also felt yourself grow terrified with his threat. Was it a threat? Or was this just intense dirty talk gone a little too far?
“I’ll fuck you senseless,” He promised, thrusting harder into you. “Fuck you until all you know is my name. Until all you live for is my cum.” He roughly turned your head so you were forced to look at him as his eyes darkened. “My personal cumslut. That’s what you are.”
You felt your orgasm peak as your cunt tightened around him, making him groan.
“That’s it; cum all over daddy,” Steve instructed you. “Show me what a good cockwhore you are.”
He began rubbing your clit, bringing your orgasm to the surface as you squirted all over him with a scream. Chuckling darkly, he continued fucking you, until his dick began twitching and throbbing and creaming, shooting his cum inside you.
“Good girl,” He groaned, his thrusts weakening and slowing down. “Such a good fucking whore for me, aren’t you?”
“Y- yes,” You whispered feebly, stuck in a daze. 
Steve pulled his cock out, moaning at the sight of his cum seeping out of your cunt. He used his dick to push it all back in, and kept himself nestled inside you like a plug. 
Waiting until you had come back to reality, he smiled and stroked your hair. “Feel better?”
You nodded, meeting his eyes. “Thank you, Mr. Rogers.”
He smiled warmly at you. “Just you wait until we get back home. I’ll give you a lot more to be thankful for.”
Your heart skipped a beat at his words and your eyes widened. “Y- you mean-”
“I meant every word I said, baby,” He confirmed softly, striking fear in your mind with his words though his voice was gentle. “You’re my little fuck bunny, now. I’ll keep you all to myself.”
Speechless, you parted your lips, still overwhelmed from your orgasm and confusion.
Steve grinned, happier than he’d ever been before. “Don’t worry,” He began comfortingly, making you relax as you waited for him to say he was only kidding. But when he continued speaking, you felt as though your stomach was filled with lead. “I’ll give you a chance to say goodbye to everyone.”
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ideasihadbutdontlike · a month ago
Troublesome Fours
Bucky Barnes x Reader
Summary: Bucky leaves for a mission in the middle of the night. That does not go over well with your son, leaving you feeling like a bad mom. 
Word Count: Unnecessarily long (But cute I think) 
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The blaring of someone's ringtone was the beginning of the worst two days of your life. Sam had called your husband at 4 in the morning with a mission that absolutely could not wait. It was something to do with a terrorist threat, and that was all you knew. So Bucky grabbed his jacket and kissed you and your son goodbye. It was the first time in Maven's little life that his father left in the middle of the night. Typically, if either you or Bucky had to leave he was warned and it was a big process. You were beginning to think that was a mistake.
When your son woke up to find the house void of his father he went nuts. First he cried. You tried sitting down with him, and pulled out all the techniques you knew to help him calm down. But it was pointless. That boy screamed and cried for hours. It broke your heart, hearing your baby scream out for his daddy. On your 37th, yes you counted, attempt at being gentle and understanding, your four year old gave you a bloody nose. Which, of course, only made him cry more. 
It was hard. You couldn't get your baby to calm down. Deciding it might be best, you scooped him into his closed off play area and went to clean up your nose.
Upon reaching the bathroom you let yourself fall apart. A few tears escaped as you thought of how much of a failure you were. The thought that you were the last thing your son wanted was enough to consume you whole. Still, you had a child in the next room who needed to be tended to. So you wiped the blood off your face, giving yourself a few extra pats of cold water to calm down. 
All day you had struggled to get Maven to eat or drink anything. Despite your best efforts and even begging him he refused. Coming back into the living room you found your son cuddled up with the Bucky Barnes teddy bear his Uncle Sam got for him when he was born. "Oh baby" you sighed, sitting cross legged next to him. He whined and squirmed away from you. 
"I want daddy," he whined. Pushing away your hurt you tried to reason with him. 
"I know you want daddy sweetheart. I want daddy here too. But Maven, we both know daddy would want you to eat today." You said in the nicest tone you could conjure up. But yet again your child screeched and pulled away. 
"Maven Grant Barnes that's enough!" You yelled. "You are going to eat and that's it." You were desperate, and you would admit it wasn't your finest moment. You lost control, between your toddler kicking and screaming and crying all day, feeling like you just weren't enough for him, and worrying about your husband out on a mission and what he would say when he came home, you snapped. In your defense your child woke up at 6:30 am and has yet to eat or drink a single thing at 4 in the afternoon. To say you were stressed was an understatement. Your house looked like a bomb went off. 
All day you had tried different methods to help your son. You had tried distraction with toys. Talking to him, initiating an engaging conversation. You tried explaining to him that Bucky would be home soon. You told him that his daddy would do anything if it meant he got to come home to his baby boy. You tried the tv, music, games, you tried playing and reading and physical contact like hugs and muscle therapy (like squeezing the kids muscles gently to relieve stress from their body). You tried getting him to breathe with you. Hell you even let him try to work it out by himself while you made him a hopeless breakfast and lunch. Everything you could think of, you tried. And every time,  without fail, he threw a tantrum and kicked or pushed or slapped you away. 
Of course when he hit you with toys or straight up hit you, you did your best to explain to him why that was wrong and that it wasn't right or nice to hit people because he's upset. You tried time-outs and taking toys for the day. Needless to say you were both having a rough day and you were beyond drained and feeling like shit. 
You took his arm, firmly but not enough to hurt him, and brought him to the dining room. You put him in his chair. You bent down to his eye level and looked into his glossy baby blues. "Maven, listen to me." You said. He furrowed his brows but regardless you could tell he was listening, he was similar to Bucky in that way. "I need you to eat, even if it's just half of your bowl." He started to whine and push back in his seat. "Maven, I promise you will feel a little better after you eat." You said, looking at him. "Or guess what," you paused. You piqued his interest, you could tell. "Well, when Daddy comes home he's gonna be sad and even mad that you won't eat for Mommy. You know all those big feelings you have today? That's how Mommy and Daddy feel when you don't eat."
Maven looked at you and nodded. "Okay" he whispered. You felt the tears in your own eyes, kissing his forehead you whispered, "thank you baby." You got up and went to make him his favorite meal. Your kid loved taco bowls. You and Bucky often talked about how lucky you were that your son wasn't a picky eater. He loved the avocado, the tomatoes, he even liked the lettuce. It took you five minutes to heat up the premade chopped meat and dice the avocado and tomato and you gave him some ripped pieces of lettuce and soft tortilla. You also made yourself a bowl while you were there since you had forgotten to eat today too. 
Coming back into the dining room you were relieved to find your son exactly where you had left him sipping on his cup of water. Putting the bowls down you sat and looked at your baby. "Maven?" You said. He looked up at you while playing with his fork. "I want you to know that it's okay to be upset. Do you know that?" 
"Yes," he whispered. 
"Okay that's good. I think we both need to work on understanding what you need when you're sad or angry. What do you think?" 
"I just want Daddy," he said. The tears pooled in his eyes again. 
"I know, baby. But Daddy isn't here right now, and that doesn't mean we can stop taking care of ourselves right? We can feel sad and miss Daddy and still eat and play and have fun. Daddy wants us to do all those things don't you think?" You said, putting all of your empathy and happiness you had into that statement. And to your luck Maven nodded. He agreed with you and you felt like you won the lottery. 
"So, how do you feel about eating dinner together, and we can give you a shower and wash the bad day away. Then, we can watch a movie." His little face lit up. And that's h8w the rest of your night went. Maven fell asleep with his head on your leg halfway through Luca. So you tucked him in with hopes that tomorrow would be better. 
It was not. It was absolutely not better. 
Bucky could hear his son screaming from the driveway. Checking the time he realized it was two hours past his bedtime. When he opened the door you met his eye from the living room floor. He saw the tears in your eyes and made his way over. "Take your son. I don't care what you do with him. Just make it stop. Maven was kicking and screaming on the floor in the kitchen. His pajamas were thrown on the floor. You had run upstairs to your bedroom leaving Bucky to handle it. 
Now typically, you wouldn't have done that, you would've stayed and tried to work it out together, especially since Bucky just came in from a mission. But tonight your child decided he was not going to bed without Bucky no matter what. There was a hole in your Dining room wall where he had put his foot through it kicking off his pajama pants. He screamed that he wanted his Daddy for the last three hours. And you just couldn't take it. You once again felt like you weren't good enough for your own son. You went into your bathroom and closed the door, tears streaming down your face. 
Meanwhile, Bucky walked over to your son, "Maven." He said, using his military voice. He stopped his tantrum, and Bucky was met with his tear stained cheeks and red eyes. Maven reached out for Bucky, and despite his confusion and his worry for you Bucky picked him up and held him close. 
"Hey buddy," Bucky said softly, wiping the tears off his son's cheeks. "What's going on huh?" Maven buried his face in Bucky's neck. A few minutes later, after Maven caught his breath he mumbled, "I missed you". And Bucky's heart broke. He could figure out what happened and hugged him a little tighter. 
"I missed you too, baby. I'm sorry I couldn't say goodbye to you." He whispered, fighting back his own tears as Maven sniffled. "Buddy, I promise you we can spend all day together tomorrow, but you need to get ready for bed now." Maven nodded and Bucky put him down, letting him gather his clothes off the floor and re-dress himself. 
When he was dressed and fresh faced, Bucky walked him to his room. On his way up the stairs, he could hear your faint sobs coming from your ensuite. He wasn't sure if Maven could hear it though and decided it would be best to get him in bed before focusing all his attention on you. In Maven's room, Bucky turned on the night light and the white noise machine just in case. When he turned around Maven was already under the cover. "Daddy," Maven called. 
"Yeah bub?" 
"Is Mommy crying because of me?" He asked. His voice was small and tired, but he was clearly distraught at the idea.
Sucking in a deep breath Bucky decided to wing this one. "No, buddy. Mommy just had a bad day. It happens sometimes." It seemed like his words worked. Or maybe Maven was just too tired to argue. 
"Give her a hug." 
Bucky laughed, "I will, and I'll be sure to give her one just from you." He hugged his son and kissed his head. "Goodnight Maven, I love you" Bucky whispered. 
"Go'night Daddy, I wuv you" Maven mumbled, his eyes closed and half asleep. Bucky stayed for a minute, with his hand on Maven's chest until he was sure he was asleep. Then he ran to you. 
He knocked before letting himself in the bathroom where you were sitting against the wall with your head between your knees. You weren't crying anymore but you were clearly still hurting. He sat next to you, placing a gentle hand on your knee. 
"It's okay baby." He said and you let out a cynical laugh. Picking your head up you rubbed at your face with your hands.
"No Buck it's not." The tears were already welling in your eyes again. Bucky didn't know what was going on, all he wanted right now was to help you. He put arm out to you and you instinctively leaned into him. And you sat, for a while, in silence just gathering your thoughts and leaning on Bucky. After quite some time, you spoke up, "all he wanted was you." You spoke softly. Recalling the last two days with your son was not something you really wanted to do right now. But honestly, you had to or it was gonna ruin you. 
"Nothing. Nothing I did for him or with him was enough. He screamed and cried and wouldn't eat for almost the whole time." You sighed. Bucky had thought that might have been the case when he came home, but he had no idea it was that bad. 
"Y/N, I'm so sorry." You shook your head. 
"It's not your fault." Bucky interrupted you before you could finish that thought. He pulled away to look at you. 
"It's not your fault either. He's a kid, these things happen. I left. In the middle of the night. I've never done that before, not to him." 
"I couldn't stop it, Bucky. I couldn't help him."  
"You tried. You didn't stop trying and that's what matters right?" 
"God Bucky you don't get it!" You choked "I can't even handle the kid I have, how am I supposed to handle two!" Bucky froze. Your hand flew to your mouth, eyes blown wide. That was not how you wanted to tell him. 
"Are you?" He trailed off, biting his lip. You nodded. The two of you had discussed the possibility of having another baby. But after the shot show you just lived you weren't sure if it was a good idea. But Bucky, oh he knew that. The minute you said you weren't capable he knew how you felt. It's exactly how he felt when you were pregnant with Maven. But his smile, the tears of joy and excitement that filled his eyes was enough to push those thoughts away for now. He pulled you into his lap and kissed you like his life depended on it. Because to him it did. You were his life, you, Maven, and his unborn child were his world. And he made a mental note to remind you how amazing you are everyday. 
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jtargaryen18 · a month ago
His Inheritance ~ Chapter 3
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Part 3: Homecoming
Series Masterlist
Words: 3.1k
Pairing: Mobster Steve Rogers x Mobster daughter reader
Warnings: References to mafia families. References to arranged marriage. Coercion. This is a dark fic. Please read responsibly.
Disclaimer: The author of this work claims no ownership of characters aside from the reader, and original secondary characters mentioned. This work is not intended for those under the age of 18 due to explicit sexual content and darker themes. By reading this work or any works on my blog (jtargaryen18), you agree that you are at least 18 years of age. I do not consent to have my work hosted on any third party app or site. If you are seeing this fanfiction anywhere but archiveofourown and tumblr, it has been reposted without my permission.
Summary: For @alexakeyloveloki. Your father is the head of one of the most powerful crime families in Boston but he’s protected you from that life. In your quiet home outside the city, you’ve been cared for and protected. When the desires of a more powerful man with the will to dominate bursts into your life, all your illusions are shattered as he comes to claim what is his.
Your heart flew as you ran like the hounds of hell were chasing you out of Boston. The snow stung your cheeks, the cold wind carrying them took your breath away as you skimmed over the snow, heading in what you thought was the direction of those other homes you saw in the distance.
It was hard to hear any sounds aside from the dull thumps of your feet, the pounding of your heart, and your rasping breath. You kept moving, refusing to look back.
Don’t look back.
Your life and freedom were on the line.
But the land around his home seemed to go on forever and it was so cold. You weren’t wearing the best shoes for running in the snow either. When you heard a shout in the distance behind you, one of your feet slid out from under you and you went face down in the snow hard. Shivering, you scrambled to your feet, making a beeline for what looked like an ancient barn near the fence at the edge of the property that you’d finally reached.
But hiding in the barn was the obvious choice. You ran towards it, ran in it, immediately searching in the darkness for any other way out. If he stopped and thought you were hiding in the barn, it would buy you some time.
Anxiety had your heart racing as you scrambled, enjoying the brief respite the shelter gave you. When you saw an open gap near the back of the old wooden structure, you darted for it. Carefully, you slipped through the narrow space where a couple of boards had pulled away, taking a deep breath before braving the cold again.
There was a small wooded area just beyond the barn. You chose a huge old oak tree and hid yourself behind it, wincing in the wind and snow to watch the barn. To see who was following you and what they’d do.
You waited.
You didn’t hear or see anyone. Where had they gone? You had a pretty good view of the direction you’d traveled. Shivering behind the tree, your teeth chattering, you waited miserably, wishing you could see who followed you. When the coast was clear, you’d keep going. You had to keep moving.
When arms that felt like iron bands clamped around you and jerked you up, you screamed.
“There’s nowhere on this property where I can’t find you, princess,” Steve’s voice was low in your ear. “But it was a fun little effort.”
Little effort, huh?
Running high on adrenaline, you fought like hell. You went limp to make yourself heavier, trying to break his hold. When that didn’t work you tried to bite him, to kick him. It took more than a little effort for him to haul you roughly up onto one wide shoulder and even then, you pounded the hell out of his back, yelling at him to let you go, that you didn’t want to marry him, and God only knew what else in your anxiety and rage.
You heard a vehicle moving closer – all you could really see was the snow blowing all around you and Steve’s ass – until you saw beams of light from the headlamps and Steve paused with you.
Again, you fought, tried to make him drop you.
“Quit!” He slapped your ass hard for your efforts.
Steve managed to throw open the door of what looked like a fairly new black Jeep, shoving you roughly onto the back seat, and keeping a hold on you as he climbed in behind you and slammed the door.
You saved your strength. You’d wait until the vehicle stopped and then try again. You didn’t recognize the sandy-haired driver. His blue-eyed gaze met yours in the mirror and you read the curiosity there.
“Thanks for the lift, Clint,” Steve told him, shooting you a warning look.
“Yeah, no problem,” the driver answered. “Dyson called me. He said you had your hands full.”
“That’s putting it mildly,” Steve said wryly.
He kept a tight grip on your right wrist, not enough to hurt but enough to be a warning. You used the time it took for his driver to get you back to the house to consider your next move. If you could just get out the door…
When the driver pushed a button on a remote clamped to the sun visor, you cursed your luck. He drove the Jeep right into a spacious garage and the door to the outside was coming down even as he put the vehicle in park. You scrambled for the door, but Steve pulled you sharply back.
As you watched, the man he’d called Clint shut off the engine and climbed out of the Jeep, pulling open your door a beat later. He grinned at you when you met his gaze.
Did he think this was funny?
Could you make it around that guy?
But Dyson came shuffling through a nearby door from the house, making a beeline for you. You read concern in the older man’s eyes, his gaze sweeping you over as you fought Steve’s grip. Once he looked reasonably sure you weren’t hurt, his expression went to one of disappointment.
And you hated that it worked.
Blowing out a frustrated exhale, you met Dyson’s gaze.
“We talked about this,” his tone was admonishing.
“No, you talked about this,” you reminded him, but managed to keep your hostility out of your voice. It wasn’t that hard considering that you were freezing. “I was just told how my life is going to go.”
Dyson held out a hand to you. “Come on. You’re freezing. Let’s get you changed so you don’t catch your death before dinner.”
When you took his hand with your left, Steve’s grip on your right loosened. When he didn’t let go, Dyson flashed him a look. “It’s okay.”
Steve let go and you followed Dyson out of the car. Now he didn’t let go of your hand, but his hold was different, kind. You were shaking when you walked into the warmth of the kitchen, another portly man with dark hair and an apron was singing as he worked on dinner, his lyrics in Italian. You understood most of it. He nodded and smiled at you as Dyson led you through the house to a large, ornate staircase.
The room he showed you to was… lovely. The wallpaper was simple, elegant. All pink satin and tiny flowers. The bed was a smaller four-poster with elegant bedding and the furniture was all beautiful dark wood and antique.
You took it all in along with the sight of your belongings off to the side of the room.
“Separate bedrooms,” you said idly, your teeth still clacking. “Th-that’s good.”
Dyson shook his head. “This was his sister Natasha’s room when she still lived at home. You’re just here temporarily.”
“Temporarily? But I thought… th-the mistresses?”
Dyson’s frown stopped you. “He wouldn’t do anything like that here, in his home,” he explained. “You should know better than that.”
“How should I?” you wanted to know. “My father didn’t have mistresses. He was a decent man.”
Dyson considered your words as he walked back to the door of the bedroom. “No, he didn’t. Your father was a decent man, I’ll give him that. But he had a hot temper. And you are a lot more like him than I thought.”
It wasn’t lost on you that you were supposed to be ashamed of your behavior at that comment.
You were anything but.
When Dyson saw he didn’t get the reaction he wanted, he lost patience. “Get dressed and then come down to dinner.”
“Can I have dinner up here?” you asked in humbler tone. “I’m tired.”
The older man’s expression softened at that.
“It’s your own fault,” he told you. “You spent most of the day upset about coming here. And then all of this.” He shook his head. “I’ll have Luca bring your dinner up here for you.”
It was a small victory, but you’d take it. Especially given how Steve had been with you in his study.
You were promised to me.
You tried not to think about his lips skimming over your face, caressing yours as you made your way to the boxes holding your belongings to find something warm and dry to sleep in.
 “Is this how it’s going to be?” Steve demanded of Dyson, fresh from his shower with just a towel around his hips.
It wasn’t fair, he knew. The man who’d been an advisor to his father for decades and now served him had already lived with his soon-to-be-wife for the last two years because he asked him to. It was asking a lot when Dyson was qualified for so much more than managing a naïve young woman.
That Dyson had agreed to it without question, never once complaining? It didn’t go unnoticed.
Dyson stood his ground, hands on his hips. “I should ask you the same question.”
Dyson was taking him to task? Steve held out a hand as if to say “please, go ahead” before plucking his deep burgundy robe from the bed and pulling it on.
“Is this really how you want to start your marriage?” Dyson began. “You just chased her out in the snow and ran her down?”
Steve chuckled. “It’s how we’ll start since she doesn’t seem to understand her place.”
Dyson shook his head, blew out an exhale. “You were twelve when she was born. She’s been extremely sheltered. What’s your excuse?”
Steve didn’t need a reminder of how young his little bride was, nor that she was innocent.
“You think I handled it wrong?” Steve wanted to know.
Dyson nodded.
Steve’s brows shot up. “And what would you have done differently?”
“We could have had Clint go after her,” Dyson told him.
Pulling the towel from his hips, Steve tied the robe around his waist.
“Send someone she doesn’t know to drag her back here?”
“She doesn’t know you either,” Dyson pointed out.
Steve knew he was right. Still, he resented the observation. And he’d be damned if any of his men put their hands on her.
“And wasn’t that your job?” Steve’s gaze locked with his. “To make sure she understood how this is expected to go? You had two fucking years.”
Dyson stared him down. “Two fucking years during which her father was dying, and she took care of him. I was supposed to do what exactly?”
Taking a menacing step towards his subordinate, Steve didn’t back down. “Make sure she understood what was expected of her.”
“You think I didn’t try?” Color rose in the older man’s face.
“She threw a drink in my face and ran like hell,” Steve said wryly. “I’d say you failed.”
“Yeah?” Dyson wasn’t budging. “And why did she do that? Huh? You get handsy with her?”
“She’s going to be my fucking wife,” Steve warned. “What I do with my hands is not your business.”
That pissed Dyson off. The shorter burly man marched up to him then.
“She’s not your wife yet. And she isn’t one of your little whores,” Dyson shot back at him. “She doesn’t know anything about our world and news flash – she doesn’t want to.”
Steve smirked at him. “Yeah, thanks for explaining that to her.”
“About the whores?” Dyson’s voice rose. “She should know.”
She should know. Steve snorted.
“Did that bother you?” Dyson kept going.
A few sarcastic comebacks came to mind, but he couldn’t say any of them. Maybe it did bother him that Dyson told her that.
“If you’re so worried about my upcoming marriage,” Steve said calmly, “I’d think you wouldn’t want her to go into it wearing rose-colored fucking glasses.”
“I couldn’t fool her if I tried.” A glance showed Dyson glaring at him now. “She’s her father’s daughter and you’d do well to remember that. She’s got a lot on the ball for someone her age and limited experience. Let her get some years and tears behind her and you’re going to have your fucking hands full.”
“Yeah? How’s she going to get that experience with you sending her off to bed? Having her supper brought to her room?” Steve demanded. “I appreciate that you care about her. But you need to get it out of your head right fucking now that you need to protect her from me.”
Dyson’s chuckle was a dry, humorless sound. “Maybe she’s not the one who needs protecting… Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Steve stared after him as he marched from his bedroom and slammed the door behind him.
The old man was lucky Steve loved him, valued his judgment. But Jesus, had Dyson spent too much time with her then? Had his sympathy for her clouded his mind?
Raking a hand through his drying hair, Steve paced his room. The snow was still falling heavily and that wouldn’t have been a problem if the evening had gone as he planned.
He’d arranged for her to be brought to him weeks ago, planned her move to his house thoroughly. All she’d had to do was accept the inevitable. It wasn’t like he hadn’t told her exactly what was going to happen.
Steve had expected a nice dinner with her. Sure, it would be awkward at first. But some brandy, some wine would help her relax. They’d talk, he’d let her ask questions. He’d planned to show her he was a reasonable man and that she could have a good life with him. All she had to do was play along.
It wasn’t like she had a choice.
The defiance he’d watched grow in her eyes with each visit to her house hadn’t been much of a concern. 
Until tonight. 
Her defiance had taken him off guard. The fact that she’d taken a look at the big picture of her life, pleaded with him for a different outcome? Well, he hadn’t expected that either.
By the time she’d slung her brandy at him, high-tailed it out into the winter storm as opposed to spending one more minute in his company? It sparked his anger. It challenged his authority.
It challenged him as a man.
He wasn’t proud of it, but he’d found it exhilarating to chase her through the storm. It pushed his need to claim her, to dominate her.
Steve had gotten her back to the house and Dyson had rushed in to save her, to coddle her.
In hindsight, maybe it was a good thing he had. Steve’s intentions hadn’t been the purest and he’d envisioned the night going a completely different way.
His stomach growled because he hadn’t eaten. The bourbon he drank went to his head, pushed up his agitation.
He was hard and that made the snow an issue. Steve made his way over to the window, seeing there was a good foot of snow on the ground now.
Yeah. He could tell himself that the snow was the only reason he couldn’t hop into one of his SUVs and drive into the city, find some beautiful, pleasurable company.
That wasn’t exactly the truth.
Fishing an old ring of keys from his nightstand, Steve quietly made his way out of his bedroom. The room Dyson put her in was just down the hall. His fingers tightened around his mother’s old keyring.
Their mother had always been so protective of his sister Natasha. His father’s men came to the house all hours of the day and night and his sister was beautiful. Placing a lock on the door of her daughter’s bedroom and being the only one who had a key? Steve always understood it.
Hell, considering what some of his rivals would do if they knew about her, particularly Barnes, Steve saw merit in the idea.
The key made the slightest click in the lock, the doorknob turning soundlessly as he let himself into the bedroom where she was sleeping.
And she was sleeping. Light filtered in through the frost-framed window to reveal the silhouette of her form on the bed.
Moving quietly through the shadows, Steve stopped when he reached her bedside.
The cadence of her breathing in sleep was slow and even. Her slim form was stretched out on her side, the fancy duvet concealing most of her from him.  One arm rested atop of the covers, revealing the long sleeve of the modest night down she wore to bed. One bare leg had slid out from under the duvet, sleek and smooth in the shadows.
Steve could only admit to himself in the quiet shadows of her room that she was the reason he wouldn’t try to brave the storm to find a pretty girl to fuck. He wanted her.
It was fucking ironic.
Steve remembered when he was a boy and his father had told him of the marriage he’d arranged for him to the daughter of his rival. He’d initially felt anger. He didn’t want his choices made for him. Hell, at the time he had no interest in marriage.
And it hadn’t mattered anyway. The bride he’d been promised in his father’s deal had been disfigured, was unacceptable. It had let him off the hook.
From a certain point of view, Steve understood her reluctance. He really did.
When his men got a look at her and brought the story back to him, he’d been infuriated. All that time, he’d been told the girl was scarred, ugly. Not that the marriage part had mattered. Steve found the custom of arranging marriages between families archaic. Sure, it was expected for him to marry. But if he ever did, he’d decide to who.
Steve’s initial intention was to see for himself, to see the girl who was supposed to be his, before making her an orphan. His next planned stop that day was her father’s house in the city, the place where he did his business…
One look at her and he rethought that plan. It didn’t help that Dyson had spent the entire ride to her house pointing out how a marriage to her would benefit him. How ending her father would only hurt his standing.
Then when he saw her…
Steve trailed his fingers over the soft, warm flesh of her calf, over her knee.
Beautiful? Beautiful didn’t cover it. She didn’t seem real.
And now she was here, in his home.
Politically, marrying her helped solidify his leadership of the families of Boston. Her lineage made her a valuable asset to him.
Her beauty had haunted his dreams since the first day he saw her.
Steve hadn’t lied to her. He’d waited a long time for her.
She would be his bride, the mother of his children.
And she’d be in his bed. If he had his way, well before he got her to the altar. Motherhood just might calm her down, make her more malleable. It was at the top of his to-do list.
Steve watched her sleep for long moments before returning to his own room to try and sleep. Sleep didn’t find him until deep in the night.
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wiypt-writes · 2 months ago
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Ch 1- Welcome To Stark Wood
Episode Summary: Two years post the violent death of your Alpha, your travels lead you to Stark Wood, a small village in Montana. Looking for a place to stay, you ask around and find yourself being directed to the Avengers Ranch, a working Cowboy Farm run by Steve Rogers.
Episode Warnings: Bad Language words. A wee bit of angst.
Episode Pairings:  Alpha Cowboy Steve Rogers x Omega Reader.
W/C: 4.3k
A/N: SUPRISE!!!! Yeah, I know I said a week but...I can’t wait.  So, here we go. My foray into the Alpha/Beta/Omegaverse. And Cowboys. I’ve got no idea how this is going to translate from my head to the page but…suppose we will see. This will carry a lot of Avengers type references, so I suppose it could be considered and Avengers AU in some ways…hope you enjoy. Please let me know what you think- comments and reblogs always appreciated.
Massive thanks to @nixakimbo​ for the edit in the banner, which sparked this entire idea…
Rawhide Masterlist // Main Masterlist
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The bus slowed to a stop and you glanced out of the window, taking in the scenery. Stark Wood was a small village, which served as a tourist attraction to those people wanting a genuine, cowboy-esque experience but without the heat and scorching temperature typical of the Southern States. Some thirty miles north of Helena, Montana, it was tucked away in the foothills of the Rockies, a stone’s throw away from the upper Missouri River where it cut through the gates of the mountains.
You grabbed your rucksack and thanked the driver, before stepping out into the fresh May air. Glancing around, you took in your surroundings. The road was more or less straight, lined with green trees and clean sidewalks and flanked by the, rather busy you noticed, collection of shops and bars.
The buildings were quaint. Modern fronted, but had kept their rustic, old town aesthetic. The shops were a mixture of chains that you recognised, and some smaller independent stores, coffee places and a little restaurant. It was by no means a big, bustling city but it would suit you just fine. For the time being anyway. You never stayed too long in one place, you couldn’t afford to.
First thing was first, you needed to find a place to stay. And to do that, you needed to ask around. If the past two years had taught you anything, it was that bars were the best places to start. You found people in there seemed a lot more likely to talk to you and accept your cover of being a tourist. You set off walking, searching for one which looked like it would give you what you needed. In fairness, you discovered that all the bars appeared fairly welcoming; a mix of older saloon types where you suspected they’d serve up a decent, dirty bourbon sour, and more modern wine and cocktail bars if that was what tickled your fancy.
From your past experience, the smaller bars tended to be the ones which the locals frequented mostly, and it was them that would be able to point you in the right direction of some accommodation for the foreseeable. You paused, having seemingly reached the end of town and looked around. Directly opposite you on the very corner of the street sat a small, wooden fronted bar with large, floor to glass windows. Outside, in a roped off area of the large sidewalk it sported several wooden benches and tables, all of which appeared to be full of people taking in the Friday afternoon with a beer. The simple, yet clean sign over the top of the awning read ‘The Red Room’.
Figuring it was as good a place as any, you crossed the street and opened the door, waiting for the inevitable turn of heads in your direction. But when they came, you didn’t see any of the suspicion you associated with small town locals, instead they seemed to all simply either smile, tip their hats in your direction, or turn back around completely non-plussed.
It set you at ease instantly.
You headed to the bar, and smiled at the pretty red-haired woman behind it. Instantly, your finely tuned senses told you she was an alpha. Her smell carried that unmistakable woody, earthy tang, which mingled with her individual scent, which was surprisingly floral.
“Hi, Honey. What can I get you?”
“Oh, erm, a beer please. Whatever’s on tap.”
“Coming right up.”
“Is it okay if I sit at the bar?”
“Sure.” She nodded, placing a coaster down in front of you. You let your bag fall to the floor with a thud as you settled down, taking in the aesthetic.
It was a rustic saloon, a broad mix between the good old days of old fashion cowboy bars of the West and the industrial period of earlier times. Exposed beams and load baring walls kept the place upright as open bulb industrial lights hung on their cables from above and on the walls. Swinging oak doors and barnwood bartops, half-beaten to hell hardwood floors with flecks of dirt and sawdust scattered around. It wasn't run down, no, it was full of character.
But what caught your eye was the portrait behind the mixed bottles of spirits and bourbons, whiskeys, gins and scotches. It depicted a large-ish group of people, some faces shadowed by beaten and worn cowboy hats while others were brightly stoic, all standing under the sign ‘Avengers Ranch’.
“Here ya go.” The woman placed the beer in front of you and you smiled. You handed her a five over and she returned shortly with your change, as you swallowed a mouthful and nodded.
“Good brew.”
“On site.” She smiled. “So, you new in town?”
You looked at her for a second, her bright green eyes sparkled with kindness, and then by habit your eyes flicked to her mating gland. The mark was the typical gold colour which signified a Pure Bond with an omega.
“Yeah,” you nodded, answering her question as your eyes returned to hers, “I’m travelling around, decided to take in a bit of the world so to speak.”
“Say no more.” The woman smiled, “I’m Natasha by the way, most people call me Widow.”
“Oh, erm…”
“It’s a stupid nickname, don’t ask.” She shook her head.
You chuckled and took her offered hand. “Y/N.” you smiled.
Another thing you’d learnt fast on your quest to remain hidden. Never use a false first name, it always tripped you up when you hesitated if someone called it to you or you forgot what name you’d given to someone already and introduced yourself to another person as something else.
“So, how long you in town for?” Natasha asked.
“Possibly for a few weeks, maybe more. I never really plan ahead, if you get me.”
“Nomad lifestyle, I like it!” She smiled, “I had a friend who did the same as you, took off for while. He’s back now, owns the ranch a couple of miles North.”
You smiled politely, thankful that she didn’t want to dig any further. Taking another sip of the exceptional on-site brew, you set the glass down and looked at her. “Actually, you might be able to help. I’m looking for somewhere to stay.”
Natasha grinned and then turned to glance at the photo you had noticed behind the bar. “I can help indeed,” she turned back, “the ranch I just mentioned. It has guest houses.”
“A Dude Ranch?” You grinned and Natasha laughed.
“Don’t let Cap here you call it that.”
“Oh, sorry, Steve. Steve Rogers. He’s the owner, the friend I mentioned before.”
“Right. So you think there’ll be space?”
“I know there’s space. I can call ahead and-“
At that point the door opened and you glanced around to see a man enter. He was dressed in a smart grey suit with shades covering his eyes. A white Stetson adorned his head whilst matching cowboy boots peeked out from the hems of his trousers.
“Hey Red.” He grinned at Natasha as he whipped the shades off his face, folding them up and slipping them into his breast pocket.
“Shell Head, the usual?” Natasha smirked.
“Yeah.” He whisked off the hat and set it down on the bar, taking a seat a few down. A quick, discrete sniff told you he was another alpha, once the initial hit of his cologne wore off. “You seen Pepper?”
“Nah, she’s not been in today. Should I have?”
“No, just curious. She was heading up to the ranch, to go over the books with Steve.”
Natasha snorted, “poor Steve.”
“Indeed, she ain't impressed. If it wasn’t for that Dude Ranch he hates so much and his share of the takings from this place, he’d be in a bit of trouble.”
“Well, that last winter hit him hard.” Nat slid a glass of amber liquid over to the man who took it with a thanks.
“Hit us all hard.” He mused, before he took a sip and hissed, his lips pulling back over his teeth. “Jesus, is that stronger than usual or…”
Natasha rolled her eyes, “it ain't called Widow’s Bite for nothin’ Stark. It’s a gamble.”
“Say that again.” He grumbled, taking another sip. “Shoulda stuck with the Winter Soldier.”
Natasha looked over, to see you watching with curiosity and you hastily moved to avert your eyes. “That there is the Winter Soldier.” She nodded to the glass and you felt your cheeks grow hot. “Named after a friend.”
“Sorry, I wasn’t meaning to eves drop.”
“Kinda hard not to when he’s in here.” Natasha jerked her head towards the man who was now watching you. “He’s a loud, brash asshole.”
“I resent that.” The man spoke, his brow flicking upwards over his deep, brown eyes. His beard was perfectly trimmed into a goatee, and he wore an amused smile as he looked at you. Unlike the alpha behind the bar, his mating mark was red, which meant he was bonded to another alpha, something that had once upon a time been a huge taboo. It still was in some parts of the country, where the conservative Hydra Council ruled. It was their view that the only bonds which should be allowed were the sacred so called Pure ones between Alphas and Omegas. A view they had tried to impose during the Civil War.
Tried, and failed thanks to Shield.
Post the battle of New York, the war had reached a stalemate of sorts. The 107th, whilst outnumbered and out armed, had fought valiantly and Hydra had been forced to retreat, and soon after conceded. Months of negotiations then followed, and eventually a ruling had been made by the World Security Council. To keep the peace, Hydra had been awarded the states in which their support was highest, namely the South. Those ‘Red’ states still to this day followed Hydra laws, and your home state of Texas was one of them. You and Colin kept your fairly liberal ideas to yourself and got on with your lives, the rules and regimented archaic laws set out by Hydra hadn’t affected you all that much, being a Pure bonded Omega.
But then, it had. And you’d fled.
In contrast, the Shield run ‘Blue’ states had moved on with the times. In those, it was accepted you loved who you loved, no matter what you or they presented as. You’d spent the last few years hopping from Blue state to Blue state, in hiding. Which was how you’d found yourself in Montana. And, you were pleased that your research into Stark Wood so far seemed to check out. As quaint and old school it might appear to be, it was seemingly liberal and welcoming.
Your feeling of ease suddenly evaporated when, to your horror, you saw the man’s nostrils flare a little and his eyes flew to the mating gland on your neck. You swallowed, fighting the urge to cover it with your hand. Although faded now to a light, shimmering silver, your old mating mark was still visible and you prayed that the concealer and make-up you meticulously applied, and re-applied through the course of your day, was still doing its job.
His eyes found yours, narrowing a little in curiosity and you held his gaze before he smiled and extended his hand. “Tony Stark.”
You shook his offered hand, your head cocking to one side as you studied him. “Stark, as in…”
“Yeah, my ancestors founded this town, centuries back.”
He chuckled, “yeah suppose it is.”
“Y/N here is looking for a place to stay for a few weeks. I suggested she head up to Avengers.”
“Good call.” Tony nodded. “Give Parker something to do, word has it he’s driving Steve insane.”
“And Buck.” Natasha snorted, “I got a full blow by blow account yesterday about how he managed to let that new group of long horns stray about five miles off course. Took them a good three hours to round them back up.”
“He’s a good kid, but…” Tony shook his head, as he reached for his phone which was ringing in his pocket, “he needs a rocket up his ass. Excuse me.”
“So, err, how do I get to this ranch?” you cleared your throat, “is it far?”
“Bout five miles or so north, not too far.” Natasha shook her head. “Like I was saying before, I can call ahead and speak to Clint. He’ll most likely send Peter to come get you, all part of the service.”
“Clint? Peter?”
“Yeah, sorry. Clint runs the Dude Ranch for Steve. Peter is, well, sort of a dogsbody. Fetches, carries, does whatever is needed. He’s a good kid.” Natasha looked around, before she dropped her voice a little, leaning her elbows on the bar in front of you. “Both of them are betas. You’ll be safe.”
You swallowed and this time your hand did fly to your mating gland, your eyes wide. A hot, warm feeling of dread spread through your body and you glanced back at the alpha on the other side of the bar nervously.
“Don’t worry,” she shook her head, “your scent isn’t strong, at all, but I have a sharp eye.”
You fumbled for words, and Natasha simply gave you a kind smile. “Montana is Blue and there’s no one in this town you need to worry about. Steve and Tony unofficially rule the place with an iron fist. They don’t stand for none of that old school, Hydra Council shit. Neither does Sheriff Odinson.”
“Erm, okay, right.” Taking a deep breath you simply nodded.
“Let me call the ranch.” She pushed herself up off the bar, reaching in her pocket for her phone. “Hey, yeah it’s me. I got a lady here who needs a room for a while…”
You watched her, still feeling uneasy as you drank the rest of your beer, now checking round over your shoulder. No one else in the place seemed to be giving you a second glance, not one. Besides you, Tony had finished his call and he turned to you, smiling.
“So, you err travelling then or…”
“Something like that,” you nodded, “just wanted to see more of the world.”
“Don’t we all.” He chuckled. “Well, welcome to Stark Wood. I hope your stay is a long and comfortable one.” He drained his glass and then slid it over the bar, “hey, Widow, can I get another of your hideous concoctions and…” he turned to you, “can I get you a drink?”
“Oh I’m not sure…”
“Pete’s tied up on farm duty so Clint’s coming instead, he’ll be about forty minutes, he’s just prepping a cabin for you, you got time.” Natasha smiled as she put her phone back in her pocket.
“Well, I errr…” you took a deep breath, steadying your nerves before you nodded. You didn’t want to come across impolite, and more to the point, if Tony really was as influential in the small town you’d be staying in as Natasha had just told you, you absolutely wanted to stay on his good side. “Sure, thank you.”
Approximately thirty-five minutes and another beer later, the door to the bar opened and you turned to see a fairly slight man dressed in faded denims and a pale blue t-shirt. He swept the cowboy hat off his head, revealing a soft face with a smooth jawline and dusty brown hair. As he moved towards the bar, his gentle smell registered with your senses, reminding you of rainfall on hot stone. But it was soon gone, in the typical way most Beta pheromones petered out. “Widow,” the man grinned at Natasha, his hand slapping Tony between the shoulders, “Pepper’s finished up at the ranch, might wanna make your way home, buddy.” “Yeah, wouldn’t wanna piss her off.” Tony mused, looking at his glass, “one for the road, eh Red?” With a smirk, Natasha grabbed the bottle and topped up his glass as the dark haired man spoke to you. “Afternoon, Miss.” he nodded. “I’m Clint, Clint Barton.” “Pleased to meet you, Clint.” You politely shook his hand, which was warm and gentle and you immediately felt a wave of ease flow over you. The beta exuded calmness and easiness, and it was very welcome. “I hear you’re after a room?” “Yeah.” You cleared your throat, “just for a little while.” “I said that,” Clint chuckled, “here I am some 4 years later.”  “Oh, you’re not local then?” “Nope, settled here after the war.” Clint shook his head, “but that’s a tale for another day. May I?” He gestured to your rucksack but you shook your head, hastily reaching for it, “I got it, thanks.” If Clint was offended by your little display of possessiveness, he didn’t show it. Instead he simply nodded. “Alright, you ready to go?” “Erm, yeah, thanks.” It was stupid, you knew. This was a classic horror story situation. Female, alone, accepting the offer of a ride and a place to stay from a gang of people she don’t know. But something about the whole circumstance felt okay to you. Maybe it was the fact that the two Alphas at the bar hadn’t tried to do anything to you yet. Perhaps it was specifically that one of them blatantly knew you were an Omega yet took her time to settle your nerves instead of making clear her desire or ability to use you as a piece of meat.
Or maybe it was the fact the Beta stood before you reminded you instantly of your old Alpha. Your mate, your love, your safe place. You and Colin had grown up together, and you were beyond shocked when he presented as an Alpha, every single person he knew expected him to be a Beta. He had a calming, laid back aura that only ever slipped during your heats and his ruts. A trait that had gotten him killed in the end. A hand on your arm made you jump and Clint stepped back a little, hands up. “Easy, Kiddo…” “No, I… sorry, I was miles away.” “My mistake.” He swept his hat back onto his head. “If you wanna follow me, trucks outside.” He started to walk before he stopped, and turned back to Natasha, “be back later, Cap says he’s buying.” Nat snorted before she looked at you. “Enjoy, you’ll love it there and I suspect I’ll see you soon.” “Yeah, listen. Thank you.” You smiled at her, fishing in your wallet. With a nod to her and Tony, you slipped a ten buck note into the tips jar and hurried after Clint. Tony and Natasha watched you go, before Tony turned back to the bar. “Well, that was interesting.” “Yeah,” Natasha nodded, “did you catch her mark?” Tony nodded, “poor kid. Having a Pure Bond severed or break is allegedly painful. Physically and emotionally.” “Hmmm,” Natasha mused, “reckon she had it removed herself or do you think something happened to her mate?” Tony shrugged, “not sure. Bet I could do some digging though.” “Not our place to do that, Tony.” “Colour me intrigued.” He shrugged. “She’s running from something.” Nat shook her head. “Whatever you do, don’t lead anyone to her, okay?” “Your lack of faith in me, Red is disturbing.” Tony scoffed. “You know as well as I do that Stark Wood is basically a haven for waifs and strays, besides, really think anyone would stand a chance when she’s up at the ranch? Which, clever move by the way…” “What do you mean?” “Sending a no longer bonded Omega, up to meet Rogers, a no longer bonded Alpha. You know her demeanour will appeal to the old fashioned bastard. He’ll take her into the fold, and, I would say into his bed but, well, he hasn’t looked at another Omega since Peg died.” “She’s on suppressants, Stark.” “Yeah, we all know there’s only so much natural instinct that drugs can repress. Plus, Rogers’ pheromones are ridiculous, never smelt anything like it when he’s going into rut.” Natasha merely blinked and tossed back a measure of liquor before pouring herself another, a smirk crossing her face.
****** It was just after sundown when the ranch workers descended on the bar. They all took up their usual places, banter and teasing flowing. In the middle sat Steve Rogers, an imposing Alpha who commanded respect and exuded an air of authority that no one dared challenge. A veteran of the Civil War, he’d fought alongside most of the other guys who now flanked him at the bar. The fighting had taken its toll on all of them, losing friends, family and loved ones. It had raged for years, leaving them all battered and bruised, and in many cases, changed forever.
“No Banner?” Steve looked at Natasha as he set his hat down on the bar, running his hand through his dark blonde, collar length hair.
“No, he’s got late surgery.” Natasha shook her head. “Why, you want him?”
“Not especially, wanted his expert opinion on that wild horse we collared the other week.”
“Want me to ask him to call when I get home?”
“Nah, it can wait.” He shook his head, before accepting his drink with a thanks.
 “You met your new guest yet?” Natasha looked at Steve as he took a huge gulp of his beer. He shook his head.
“No, should I?”
“Just thought you might have seen her.” Natasha leaned on the bar. “She’s an Omega.”
Steve’s brow quirked up, “and she’s travelling alone?”
Natasha nodded.
“Brave girl.”
“Or stupid.” Sam scoffed, shaking his head. “I mean I know we’re a blue state and all but…”
“Well, her suppressants seem to be working.” Natasha shrugged. “No one in here gave her a second look.”
“Apart from you, of course?” Bucky scoffed, and she winked.
“You know as well as I do, not much gets passed me.”
“Don’t I know it?” He grumbled.
“We know where she’s from?” Steve asked.
“My guess is the South.” Clint interjected, dropping his hat onto the bar. “She did a good job of hiding her accent but the odd word slipped.”
“Another one fleeing Hydra.” Bucky stated and the group simply fell silent, contemplating the information for a while.
“Well, whatever it is she’s running from is none of our business.” Steve stated firmly, reaching back for his drink.
“Tell that to Stark.” Natasha quipped.
“Tell what to me?” Tony’s voice rang out across the bar and he walked over, the heels of his boots clicking on the hardwood floor.
Steve tolled his eyes, as Sam looked at him, “we were talking about our new guest.”
“Ahh, yes.” Tony’s hand rubbed over his goatee. “Y/N Langley.”
“Langley?” Steve’s head whipped round. “As in…”
“The Boston Langleys, yeah.” Tony nodded. Steve let out a growl at the mention of the name and Peter frowned.
“Who are the Langleys?”
“Kid, do you know nothing about our history?” Tony looked at him and Pete shrugged.
“The Langleys were a well-known family in Boston.” Bucky picked up the tale. “But the family split down the middle decades ago. Half of them for Shield, half of them for Hydra. The Hydra half moved to Texas, Fort-Worth to be specific…”
“So she comes from that side?”
“Looks like it.” Tony mused. “Interesting, huh?”
Steve grunted, “She’s clearly fled for a reason, we’re not about digging into people’s past, we never have been. It’s none of our business.”
“She fled when her Alpha was killed.” Tony nodded to Natasha as she set a number of glasses down on the bar along with a bottle of Widow Bite.
“Wait, her Alpha was killed?” Steve repeated, looked at Tony.
“Thought you said it was none of our business?”
Steve glared at Tony who reached out for the bottle, pouring a measure into each glass. The billionaire chuckled, as he dished the glasses out, leaving one spare.
At that point the door opened again and everyone turned to see Thor, looming in the doorway, the sheriff badge on his hat glinting in the light of the bar. He made his way over, his long legs crossing the room in four strides and Tony slid the spare glass over to him.
“Right on time.”
“Greetings.” Thor nodded to them all in turn, before he looked at Tony. “I spoke to Heimdal and he set his usual networks going. Happy’s information seems to check out. And in answer to your question, yes, it was him who killed our new guest’s mate. An Alpha Battle, none the less.”
 “Who?” Natasha looked at Tony, then Thor.
“Rumlow.” Thor drained his drink in one.
“The Rumlow?” Natasha blinked. “As in...”
“Yup, Crossbones himself.” Thor smacked his lips together before he slammed the glass down on the bar, “this drink, I like it. Another.”
Steve and Bucky exchanged a glance, Bucky’s nerve twitching as he flexed his metal prosthetic. He knew as well as anyone how vicious Rumlow could be.
“He killed her Alpha?” Clint pressed as Natasha slid the refilled glass over to Thor.
“Yup, then wanted to claim her as his, only she bunked before he got the chance.” The Sheriff nodded, adding his thanks to Natasha for the top up.
“Oh, Jesus.” Sam grumbled. “This…this is-“
“Nothing to do with us.” Steve shook his head. “We leave her be. She’s been through enough.”
“But, surely, if she’s about to bring a fight to our door then-“
“Sam, no!” The Alpha’s command rang loud around the bar and Sam took a deep breath and rolled his eyes. “You don’t ask, and that goes for the rest of you too.”
“I wouldn’t worry about it, Bird Brain.” Tony shrugged, “she left two years ago and she’s stayed off their radar for that amount of time, even Fury can’t track where she went after that. And if he can’t then…”
Steve chewed the information over in his brain. He could understand Sam’s trepidation, and that of the rest of the team. The various mixed feelings of apprehension and curiosity were rolling off them and it made his Alpha senses twitch.
Tony sipped his drink, his eyes fixed on Steve over the rim of his glass, “I know you don’t believe in fate, Cap, but this one…” he raised his brows as Steve caught his eyes, “well, it’s the strangest of coincidences if nothing more.”
**** Chapter 2
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