#maeras writing challenge

[fanficapologist]

Of Dragons and Maelstroms

Themes and Warnings: slow burn, enemies to lovers, blood, violence, explicit language, sexual violence, period-typical misogyny, sexual themes, smut, tension, marriage, jealousy, pregnancy, childbirth, miscarriage, attempted sexual assault, breastfeeding, major character death, divergent timelines

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood/Game of Thrones characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Chapter Forty-Six

The world outside seemed to fade into insignificance, leaving only the palpable blend of challenge and burning desire that sizzled between Lady Maera and Prince Aemond. In the aftermath of Maera’s reunion gift being bestowed upon her betrothed, the pair stood entwined, their breaths mingling in the charged air. The Prince, seemingly eager to return the favour, removed his hand from her hair and began to explore her curvaceous body with his hands, running his palms up and down her sides before one settled on her hip, and the other on her left breast. He squeezed it roughly, causing Maera to gasp in Aemond’s mouth, both of their tongues massaging each other with wet determination. It was intoxicating and Maera needed more, pulling him ever closer, if that was possible, allowing her fingers to entangle in his long silver mane.

Then a thought struck her as the hand on her hip began to bunch up her skirts at the front of her dress, and his fingers began to grace delicate patterns across her rounded thighs. Maera now had the upper hand and she wasn’t prepared to give that up, at least not tonight anyway. She abruptly withdrew from the embrace, her hands gently pushing against Aemond's chest as a signal to cease his movements. He blinked, momentarily bewildered, his face etched with desire and curiosity.

Maera couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight before her as she took a step back from him, smoothing down her dress and hair so she looked more presentable. Aemond’s single, piercing eye reflected the intensity of the connection they shared as well as the confusion of her abrupt departure. He cleared his throat and too began to compose himself, placing his cock back in his trousers and lacing up the ties. His silver hair, once impeccably arranged, now bore the tousled marks of their passionate encounter, which he then began to smooth down with his palms.

Her breathing gradually slowed, and a sly, teasing grin played on her lips as she quipped, "It seems the honourable Prince cannot always control his desires." Maera’s eyes sparkled mischievously, even as she forced a note of seriousness into her voice. "Perhaps, for the sake of whatever honor we have left, we should not be left alone with one another each other until the wedding day."

Aemond, realizing that Maera was toying with him, couldn't help but smirk as he returned the challenge with his words. “Are you afraid you will not last until our union, my Lady? That you will be begging for my cock in your cunt before we even reach the Sept?”

She clicked her tongue response, her emerald eyes sparkling with mischief as she met Aemond's gaze. “Not at all, I simply do not wish to offend the Gods any further than we already have.”

“Offend the Gods,” Aemond parroted, furrowing his brow. “We are to be married in ten days time, it is hardly sin.” A sly grin tugged at the corner of Aemond's lips as he retorted, his eyebrow arching in an almost taunting manner. “Admit it, you do not think you will last.”

“The only thing that did not last was you, when I had you in my mouth,” she retorted back quickly, her voice carrying a sultry undertone.

With a seductive grace, Maera slowly strolled away from him, her fingertips trailing over the handle of the library doors. She turned back to him, a playfulness in her eyes, and in her voice, she murmured, "Oh, and I will ask Ser Arryk to assist in rearranging my room before you resolve to attempt to sneak in. My writing desk will be placed in front of the painting near my bed, so if you dare try to enter my rooms through the castle tunnels, I will hear you. ”

Aemond's eyes gleamed with a daring edge, inviting further banter, while Maera's grin held a promise of a challenge she was more than willing to meet. She wanted to taunt him and provoke him, to show him that at least in this regard she was stronger.

“Perhaps I will even get Ser Arryk to stand guard inside my rooms each evening, to ensure my safety and virtue,” Maera said provocatively, the mention of her knight's protective presence provoked a subtle shift in Aemond's demeanor. The playful smile that had graced his features began to fade, and his expression took on a tinge of jealousy. His jaw tightened, and a glint of possessiveness shone in his lone purple eye, momentarily betraying the emotions that roiled within him.

Before Aemond could form a reply, Maera gently pushed open the library doors, her movements as quiet as a whisper. She slipped through the portal and, with a deft hand, shut them softly behind her. The heavy oak doors closed with a hushed finality, ensuring their secret remained well-guarded.

As Maera walked the dimly lit corridors back to her chambers, her heart was aflutter with giddiness. She couldn't help but revel in her victory of having Aemond in her mouth and bringing him pleasure, the memory of it making her stomach do flips and filling her with a delightful warmth. Their stolen moment in the library had been passionate and electrifying, reigniting the spark between them. And to an extent, Aemond was right. She felt a deep longing for the day they could freely embrace their desires fully without any constraints. But she would not give in so easily, despite how much she wanted to.

Upon reaching her chambers, Maera couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction. She had successfully teased Aemond, drawing a reaction of jealousy from him. It was a testament to the depth of his feelings for her, and a secret thrill coursed through her. As she entered her chamber, her cheeks flushed with a mixture of excitement and contentment. The knowledge of their shared desire made her feel more alive than ever.

In the remaining nine days leading up to the wedding, the grand hall of the Red Keep was a hive of activity. Under the watchful eyes of Queen Alicent and several noble ladies, Maera oversaw the final preparations for the impending wedding feast. The hall was transformed into a magnificent display of color and opulence.

Tables were dressed in luxurious linens, graced with towering centerpieces of fragrant flowers that Queen Helaena had previously chosen. Gossamer draperies adorned the walls, shimmering with the colors of House Targaryen; jet blacks and shimmering golds, embroidered with intricate dragon motifs that seemed to come alive in the flickering candlelight. The ambiance was one of enchantment, and Maera's heart swelled with pride as she surveyed the grand hall, which would soon host the most important day of her life.

As the sun continued to rise and set, the tension between Aemond and Maera was palpable. Every glance in the corridors, every lingering touch as they passed books to one another, was laden with unspoken desire. Their stolen moments were fleeting, and the mere sight of the One-Eyed Prince sent a rush of heat through Maera’s veins. However each were committed to not breaking the challenge they had presented to one another in the library. Neither would give the other the upper hand by yielding to carnal desires. And as much as Maera had assured Aemond she would not break, it proved harder to be expected.

Every night leading up to their union, she would try to find solace in her own touch, bringing herself to her peak with thoughts of her betrothed swirling around her mind. In the short-term, it brought her peace, until she would see him in passing, granting her a sly smile, or watching him training in the courtyard with Ser Criston, sweat on his brow and breathing heavily, just like he did in the library. Then it was like she was back to the beginning of her lust, a desire unsatisfied, anticipation of the wedding night weighing heavily on her.

To distract herself from the building anticipation, Maera ensured she would have no time alone. She chose to spend her days in the company of Queen Alicent, Queen Helaena, and Helaena's three children in Queen Alicent's chambers. With their shared company, they busied themselves with activities that allowed the hours to pass more quickly. The young Princes Maelor, Jaehaerys, and Princess Jaehaera found delight in playing with wooden dragon figurines, and the room was filled with their laughter. The women took turns reading the children stories from ancient tomes, stories of dragonriders and noble knights, tales of prophecy and unexpected love.

Queen Helaena's improving health was evident, and a subtle bump had begun to form under her elegant golden gown, a silent testament to the new life growing within her. As they sipped tea and dined on a small selection of meats and cheeses, the conversation flowed with a mix of wedding preparations, fond reminiscences and the hopes for the new royal babe.

The peace did not last as Aemond began to join the group during the last few days, for an hour or two, using the guise of wanting to spend quality time with his niece and nephews, as well as his betrothed. To Maera, it felt as if he were a spectre sent to torment her, lingering nearby, a formidable presence that electrified the air. When he was not engaged with the children, he sat opposite Maera on the round table in Alicent’s chambers, so close to her, yet so far away. Aemond brought with him a leather book and quill to busy himself whilst the women talked amongst themselves.

Aemond's intense focus when writing was a sight to behold. He leaned slightly forward, shoulders squared, and lips pressed together, occasionally reaching for his goblet to take a sip, before returning to his work. The quill moved gracefully, the inkwell beside him open and ready. His strong, sinewy fingers controlled every stroke of the pen, creating elegant, precise lines that mirrored the man himself. His brows furrowed with concentration, revealing the depth of his thoughts as he carefully penned his words. It was too much for Maera to bear.

Gripping at the delicate fabric of her skirts, the growing frustration within Maera finally overcame her resistance. Her voice edged with impatience, she couldn't hold back any longer and asked Aemond,“Skoros issi ao bardutan?” What are you writing?

Aemond glanced up from his work, the sly satisfaction evident on his face now that he had her full attention. He replied, his voice smooth and laced with a hint of mischief, “Reviewing the expenditures from the royal treasury, my Lady. The record-keeping has been appalling since Lord Beesbury’s passing.”

Maera arched an elegant eyebrow, perplexed by his choice of task. She placed a sugar cube into her tea cup, stirring it with a spoon as her emerald searched his violet one with curiosity. “You take on the responsibilities of Master of Coin before we are even wed?” With a smirk playing on her lips, Maera raised her cup of tea to her mouth. “Isse jorrāelagon hen nykeā dokimarves, issi īlon?” In need of a distraction, are we? Her teasing tone held a hint of smugness as she sipped her tea, her eyes locked onto Aemond's, challenging and inviting him all at once. Maera noticed Aemond's jaw tightening, his grip on the pen growing firmer and felt a sense of satisfaction wash over her. It was evident she had successfully invoked a reaction from him, and the fire in her eyes sparkled with a sense of playful victory.

However, the mood quickly shifted when his eye darkened, and he responded back in High Valyrian, “Nyke emagon gaomagon naenie kizy bona emagon ēva īlon issi idīntan, y ao gaomagon daor vestragon naejot angoda bē zirȳ, gaomagon ao issa riñnykeā?” I have done many things that should have waited to do until we are married, yet you do not seem to complain about them, do you my lady? Aemond’s voice held an undercurrent of smugness, causing a playful spark to glimmer in his eye, knowing he had a certain power over her.

As his words lingered in the air, Maera's frown deepened, worried that Helaena or the children might overhear their conversation and ask probing questions. Without a second thought, Maera gave Aemond a sharp kick to the shin under the table, a discreet but potent reminder to watch their words. Glancing at Helaena, who was delicately enjoying an apple finger, Maera noticed the knowing smile on her face, understanding Helaena had been listening to the Targaryen tongue being spoken in front of her.

Maera observed Queen Alicent's brows furrowing in confusion, a clear sign that she didn't understand the High Valyrian being spoken and felt excluded from the conversation. She couldn’t help but feel a sense of amusement, knowing that the subtlety of their interaction filled with innuendos and flirtation was going over the dowager queen's head.

"Are we discussing the wedding costs?" Queen Alicent inquired, seeking clarification from her son.

“Forgive us, Mother,” Aemond responded, a slight smirk gracing his face before continuing. “I was merely pointing out that the numbers appear quite high for the event in this ledger.”

Queen Alicent, now feeling more included in the discussion, shared her perspective. "I know, dearest, but a royal wedding is needed to lift the spirits of the people during these times of war," she stated with a touch of formality, a sense of responsibility for the people of Westeros. Aemond responded with a noncommittal hum, turning his attention back to the page as he started writing again.

As the conversation about the upcoming wedding continued, Queen Helaena chimed in, her voice carrying a light and amiable tone. She engaged in the topic with a sense of enthusiasm, her words adding to the lively chatter surrounding the event. However, as the discussion progressed, Helaena's words began to trail off into soft, happy murmurs that didn't quite make sense to those around her. Her mind seemed to wander, lost in a world of her own making.

“The Evenstar lays claim to a dragon at the union of Fire and Water,” Helaena added gleefully to the conversation. Maera, seated nearby, observed her friend's mumbling with a mix of affection and understanding. Although Helaena's words were not making sense, it was clear that the Queen was lost in a moment of happiness, and Maera cherished the sight of her friend finding solace and joy in her own way, even if the words didn't quite align.

In response to Helaena’s words, Maera's smile grew, her eyes reflecting her friend’s joy. She also couldn't resist shooting a glance at Aemond, silently conveying her happiness regarding the forthcoming event. Aemond returned her look with a subtle, affectionate grin, all while continuing to focus on his meticulous record-keeping. The room resonated with a sense of shared anticipation and the promise of better times ahead.

On the final day before her union, the sun's soft glow painted the sky with delicate hues of pinks and oranges, casting a warm light that filled Maera's chambers. Waking with the sunrise, her heart was a whirlwind of emotions. Nervousness and excitement danced together within her, creating a unique blend of anticipation that set her heart aflutter. She thought of Aemond, the one who vexed her, the one whom she had a shared history with, the one who saw her the way nobody else did, was to be her husband upon the next sunrise.

To distract herself and regain some sense of tranquility, she turned her attention to the half-finished dragon egg painting she had been working on as a gift for Helaena's upcoming child. She sat before the canvas, her slender fingers clutching the paintbrush with a sense of purpose. The dragon egg's surface was a mesmerizing canvas of purples and blacks, an intricate dance of shadows and highlights. Maera painted each scale with utmost care, her strokes deliberate and precise.

In the midst of her artistic reverie, the door creaked open, and her loyal handmaiden, Thena, entered the room. With a respectful nod, she reported, “My Lady, carriages have been spotted on the roads outside the keep bearing the sigil of House Wylde.”

A surge of joy filled Maera as she realized her brothers and sisters had arrived for the momentous occasion. Unable to contain her excitement, Maera squealed with delight, setting aside her painting materials. She turned to Thena, her eyes shining, and asked her to prepare her. The prospect of seeing her family on the eve of her wedding filled her heart with warmth and happiness, balancing the nervous excitement that had been building within her as the big day approached.

In the small hall, Lady Maera awaited the arrival of her siblings with her loyal protector standing to her left. The day before her union already had her heart racing, and the prospect of reuniting with her kin only added to the emotions that surged within her. As she pondered the reunion, Maera couldn't help but wonder how much her brothers and sisters had changed since she had last seen them. It had been a considerable span of time, over six moons, and the uncertainty of what to expect left her both curious and anxious.

Dressed in a brown and turquoise leather hunting dress, her attire was not only a nod to her affinity for outdoor pursuits but also a deliberate choice. She had her dark, curly hair braided back, a practical hairstyle that signaled her readiness for the hunt, something her elder brothers would definitely wish to participate in during their visit to the Capital.

As Lady Maera looked down at her beloved attire, her heart weighed heavy with a poignant sadness. For as long as she could remember, she had worn the traditional colors of House Wylde, turquoise and gold. It had been a part of her identity, a reminder of her heritage and the family she cherished. Yet, now, on the precipice of marrying into House Targaryen, her attire would undergo a profound change.

The vibrant turquoise would give way to shades of black and gold, marking the transition from her Wylde origins to the legacy of her Targaryen future. This transformation was bittersweet for Maera, as she knew it was a step toward a new chapter in her life. The colors of House Targaryen were already a constant reminder of her late mother, a presence she held dear in her heart. It was a change she found strange yet welcoming, as it signified her journey into a new family while keeping the memory of her roots close.

By her side, Ser Arryk, her unwavering protector, exuded an aura of calm strength. His hazel eyes watched over her with the protective diligence of a loyal guardian, and his presence provided her with a sense of reassurance that she treasured deeply. When the grand doors finally swung open, Maera's heart leaped in joy, but the sight that greeted her was unexpected. It wasn't her brothers or sisters who emerged from the doorway but Prince Aemond, a striking figure as he strode purposefully toward her. Climbing the few steps, he took his place beside her, his nearness sparking a mixture of emotions within her, from excitement to curiosity.

Ser Arryk's greeting to the Prince, while courteous, bore a hint of underlying tension as he acknowledged Prince Aemond with a nod. The air around them felt charged, carrying the weight of their last uncomfortable encounter. In an attempt to dispel the heavy atmosphere, Maera turned her attention to Aemond, a faint smile on her lips as she asked, "What brings you here, my prince?"

His response carried a touch of humor, "Is it not natural for a man to want to meet his future wife's family?"

Maera, smirking playfully, replied, "I suppose not, but I had no idea you were so interested in my family."

Aemond regarded her with a serious expression, his gaze unwavering as he stated, "We are to be wed. And I know we have had our history but I wish to know you better, through your brothers and sisters." His words held a sincerity that couldn't be denied, expressing his genuine commitment to their union. There was a vulnerability in his eye that she hadn't expected, and it made her pause, contemplating the depth of his feelings and the sincerity behind his words.

As the grand doors to the hall swung open once more, Lady Maera's heart quickened with anticipation. Her siblings were about to step into the room, and the emotions swirling within her were a tumultuous mix of excitement and apprehension.

She couldn't help but wonder what her brothers and sisters would think of her betrothed. The history she shared with him was fraught with complexities and layers that only a few understood. The times she had returned to Rain House from the Capital, Maera had been crushed by the hurt and rejection Aemond had caused her, and her brothers and sisters had seen the turmoil it had taken on her. But now all of a sudden, the pair were to be married. She knew that her family would hold a range of feelings about him, from curiosity to skepticism.

As the moment of introduction drew near, Maera prayed to the Gods for a smooth encounter, awaiting the meeting with bated breath, eager to see how her siblings would receive the man who from tomorrow would be bound to her in Fire and Blood.

Notes: I thought we’d have a lil family reunion for Maera before she gets married 😊

Tags: @blue-serendipity @manipulatixe @marvelescvpe @watercolorskyy @grungegrrrl @shesjustanothergeek

Thank you so much for reading! Comments, feedback, likes, and reblogs are greatly appreciated 🖤

#maera wylde #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #aemond x oc #chapters #hotd aemond #hotd fanfic #hotd helaena #house targaryen #house wylde #smut #aemond smut

[hiraethhh-h]

day 11 - cute

fandom: the arcana

paring: lucio morgasson x OC

warnings: suggestive content

wc: 242

12 day writing challenge

“it’s cute, it would suit you.”

lucio’s head snapped to maera, his eyes wide at her deadpan tone. he sputtered for a moment before gathering himself. “cute?! i am way better than cute!” he exclaimed incredulously. “you hardly sound like you mean it, and i so would not look cute in that… that thing!”

maera ignored lucio’s outburst, turning to the shopkeep. “we’ll take it.” she dropped a small pouch of golden coins onto the counter, “and that dragon one there.” maera pointed to the said onesie hanging from a rack. “maera!” lucio gasped. the woman took the pair of pajamas, looking to lucio with a faint smile.

“you can tell when i’m being sincere.” she cooed. the demoness interlocked their arms, lucio rolling his eyes. “of course i can. i can read you like an open book.” a soft snort left the woman, the two making their way back to the inn.

maera laid out the onesies on the bed, humming at the sight. she chucked the white one at lucio, the male barely catching it in time with a grunt. “i’m not wearing this-” lucio blinked at the sight of maera sliding her dress off, her back facing him. “mmm, what a shame then. perhaps i can bathe alone.” now clad in her undergarments, the woman headed into the bathroom where a wooden basin awaited her.

lucio gaped for a moment longer before he tossed the goat onesie aside. “hey, hey, wait for me!”

#bee's writing #the arcana original character #the arcana game #arcana game #the arcana lucio #lucio arcana #the arcana #count lucio #lucio morgasson #lucio the arcana

[christowhore]

Eye For An Eye

pairing: mob!bucky barnes x barnes!wife!reader // mob!bucky barnes x mistress!dolores // mob!thor odinson x barnes!wife!reader

summary: you come home one night to find bucky in bed with another woman. after threatening divorce, he begs for your forgiveness and tells you he'll do anything. he should’ve known to always be careful with what you wish for.

word count: 6.6k

warnings: angst, bucky is a scumbag, infidelity, use of pet names, daddy kink, mentions of divorce, mentions of murder, smut, use of restraints, forced cuckholding, sub!bucky?, oral (m/f receiving), fingering, choking, spanking, unprotected sex, cream pie, happy endings for some !!! 18+ MINORS DNI !!!

notes: this is my submission for @ambrosiase 'the hotel indigo' writing challenge. it starts off really angsty, but it turns very smutty. hope you enjoy ! 💗

join my taglist !

MAIN MASTERLIST

room: the honeymoon suite ❦ room service: mobster

You weren’t supposed to witness this. You were never supposed to see your husband of 7 years, laying in your marital bed, fucking another woman. Hearing him call her the pet name that you thought was reserved only for you, while he drove his hips into her. The way ‘sweet plum’ rolled off his tongue with unwavering ease made you nauseous at the revelation.

You should’ve immediately known something was up when you entered your Manhattan townhouse that evening. The apprehensive looks you picked up on from the assigned security details should’ve alerted you that something was wrong, but you ignored it, desperately trying to reconnect with your other half.

Being away from your husband for 2 weeks, while on vacation with you sister, made you stir crazy due to not having Bucky near you. It was with unfortunate, yet fortunate luck that landed you here due to your sibling getting sick with food poisoning; the event resulting in your month-long planned trip being cut short.

Loading into the elevator and clicking on the master floor, glee filled your body as you ascended the 3 flights up. But the second those doors opened up, dread took its place.

The first thing you noticed was the stray high heel; the item was 6-inches and hot pink, a stark difference to your usual choices. The shoe started the trail of strewn articles of clothing that led to your shared bedroom.

Following the string of garments, taking steady steps, you heard the familiar moans of your husband. His deep grunts were distinct, rich and gruff, the acclimated sounds were already implanted in your hippocampus.

Pairing his groans of pleasure were the squeaks of a woman. Hers were shrill, the piercing yelps already causing a headache to form. All you heard were the over exaggerated pleas of a wanna-be pornstar escaping the confines of your bedroom.

Though you had heard the infidelity, nothing could have prepared you for the sight of it unfolding before your eyes.

Bucky had the long haired redhead bent at his will. His large palms pressed her thighs back to where her knees touched the sheets, no doubt causing a burn to run through her legs.

His hips proceeded to rut into her, the sounds of slapping skin bouncing off the walls. You watched as their eyes were trained on each other, a slight smile adorned both faces as they moaned out.

“Fuck sweets, you feel so good taking my cock,” Bucky swore at the woman underneath him, “You like Daddy’s dick tearing you apart, don’t you?” Her yelps of desire were an acceptable response to the brunette.

You stood there for a while, not able to tear your eyes away from their motions. 7 years of marriage down the drain, 7 years of love and tenderness thrown out the window. So caught up with misery, you didn’t realize you had started crying; but the pair did.

“Shit.”

Removing himself, Bucky jumped up and grabbed his crumpled boxers off the floor and quickly pulled the material up his legs. “Sweetheart, this isn’t what it looks like, I swear.”

A dry chuckle boomed in your stream of consciousness. It was honestly amusing to think that a idiotic line like that would excuse his actions, yet he said it anyway as if you didn’t just watch him be balls deep in someone other than you, his wife. You continued to stand there, mute, as your thoughts ran wild.

“(Y/N), baby please,” the man pleaded, staring deep into your eyes, “Just hear me out.”

Not wanting to listen to any lame excuse he could try and conjure up, you brushed past him and towards the walk in closet, avoiding his insisting eye contact. Following in tow, he watched as you grabbed a suitcase and started stuffing as much of your wardrobe in the travel bag.

“Wait- wait hey, (Y/N). What are you doing? Where are you going?”

You filled your bag with your clothes and grabbed a carry on, side stepping your husband yet again and heading into your combined bathroom.

“Please, baby, I’m sorry. It didn’t mean anything, just look at me and let me explain.”

Bucky stared at your rigid frame. You did everything in your power to not pay him any mind and it broke him.

He knows he shouldn’t feel bad, he brought this upon himself.

Being the leader of the Barnes Family Syndicate, it was always expected of him to have a wife and a mistress. His father had one, as did his grandfather and so on and so forth.

When he met you, he realized he didn’t want to follow in his family’s footsteps of infidelity so he maintained his devotion to you. But dealing with constant teasing from fellow heads of families of how whipped he was, and how he wasn’t a ‘real man’, made his resolve slowly weaken.

So the day you left for Tahiti with your sister, he thought what better time than then.

He had gone to his best friend’s, Sam, nightclub and that’s where he met Dolores. A pretty little thing, with flowing red hair. She had caught his eye as she danced on the crowded floor. Bucky watched as her hips glided to the beat. The skirt of her dress rose due to her actions, enticing him even more.

An hour later, he had her pinned down in the backseat of his town car. His motions caused the vehicle to rock back and forth as it stayed parked on the sidewalk.

After the moment, he was filled with a tremendous amount of pride. He had lived up to the family name, following in his fathers footsteps. But once his driver, Peter, climbed into the front seat and looked at him through the partition with shame, his bones were riddled with mortification.

He had broken his sacred vows. ‘To love and to cherish’ were burned away as the sweaty redhead laid next to him, stroking the damp hair away from his forehead.

But the ridiculing words from the other syndicate leaders flowed back into his mind, pushing the guilt he felt away. So he ordered Peter to drive him back to your shared home and rolled the barrier up, avoiding the young man's piercing gaze.

Bucky should’ve never acted on the words of his colleagues, because he knew how much they loathed that he got someone as beautiful as you.

It was no secret that you were out of his league. The moment he saw you enter the crime disguised butcher shop, he knew he had to have you.

Your beauty made everyone stop and stare, it caused him to lose friends and colleagues due to their own lustful desires directed towards you. That’s why he married you only after 6 months of dating, to make sure that he could never lose you.

Yet here he was, wearing only a pair of boxers while you packed up your belongings after watching him have an affair, his nightmare coming to life.

You continued with your actions, making sure you had every item of your beauty regime packed away. Collecting your belongings, you began to make your way out of the room before Bucky’s booming voice rang out.

“Jesus Christ (Y/N), just look at me! Talk to me! Say something!”

Frozen in spot, you felt 2 pairs of eyes on your back. One from the redhead who stayed tucked under the covers, and the other from your husband.

You cleared your throat, removing the bile that had built up there upon your revelation. With your back still towards the pair, you found the courage to speak. “How long?”

“Listen sweet plum-” he began, but was quickly cut off by your sharp voice.

“I asked you, how long?”

With a sigh, he revealed to you the horrible truth, “Since the night that you left with your sister.”

A broken sob shot through your being. He couldn’t even wait a day without your presence for him to go and find someone else.

Wiping away the stray tears that escaped your eyes, you picked up your suitcase, slung the carryon over your shoulder and made your way out of the home, making sure to grab the luggage you had forgotten when you first arrived.

You didn’t bother taking the elevator, not wanting to be stuck in the small space with the cheater so you descended the stairs, bags in tow.

Bucky’s apologetic pleas followed you down the steps and out the front door, the security that were posted avoided the unfolding scene like the plague.

Stepping out onto the city sidewalk, you raised your hand to hail a taxi, desperately trying to escape the begging man standing only in his underwear.

“Please baby, she means nothing to me. I got so caught up in the guy's words that I felt like I had to do it. But it meant nothing, it won’t happen again. I promise you.”

You ignored his sorrow-filled confession as you watched the yellow cab pull in front of you. The driver could sense the tense energy and popped the trunk, staying in the safety of his vehicle and not wanting to mess with the well-known mobster.

Lugging the heavy cases into the trunk, you closed the lid and entered the backseat.

Before the driver could pull away, you rolled down the window and finally locked eyes with the brunette.

Bucky watched as a smile found your lips, and he began to feel hopeful. But the words that left your lips next shattered his aspirations.

“The next time you hear from me will be from my lawyer. I’m filing for divorce.”

And with that, Bucky watched as the cab drove away along with his self-sabotaged marriage.

It had been 3 weeks of radio silence from you and Bucky was an absolute mess. He tried to call you, visit your family and friends, and even used his connections with the NYPD. He did everything in his power to talk to you but you had ignored all efforts of communication.

His empire was slowly collapsing, due to his queen running away. He never admitted it, but the reason he had become so powerful over the years was due to you.

The effect you had on business partners and clientele gave him a leg up in the competition; everyone desperate to be in your presence, in any way shape or form.

Now with you not by his side, he was crumbling. His usual attire of 3 piece tailored suits were replaced with stained t-shirts and baggy sweats. Bucky’s hair was typically kept neat, not a strand out of place, but now it had become unruly, matching the scraggly beard he had developed.

During those 3 weeks, the brunette managed to drink through a plethora of liquor bottles. Finishing off every glass in hopes that it would somehow bring you back, but to no avail.

That night when you left, he threw Dolores onto the street, treating her like the trash that he should’ve when she started flirting with him that night at the club; ignoring the obvious wedding band on his left hand.

Unfortunately he couldn’t escape the sex-filled odor of his actions that soaked the bedroom, so he had it deep cleaned. The action was supposed to make him feel better, but it only made it worse when he realized that the sweet smell of your usual vanilla and caramel perfume was gone.

Bucky spent most days crying on your side of the bed, grasping onto a forgotten sweater of yours that had traces of your scent ingrained in the fabric.

Meanwhile, a few miles south in Greenwich Village, you sat in the office of Stephen Strange, a reputable divorce attorney.

It took a while before you were able to conjure up the courage to step foot into his office. But today you felt better than the days prior, finally wanting to get it all over with.

“So you don’t want any of the houses or the cars. You’re fine with just alimony?” he questioned, his coiffed hair bounced as he turned his head to the side watching you.

“Yes, just alimony, he can keep everything else. I don’t want anything else tied to him.”

He nodded along to your answer. He knew who your soon-to-be ex-husband was, but wasn’t scared of him. The Strange family had their own notoriety that made them a formidable opponent so he wasn’t worried about any backlash.

“So did you want to fi-,” his question cut short at the ring of your cell phone, the 17th time ever since you sat down less than an hour ago.

Growing tired of the nuisance ringing, you angrily picked up the phone, “Did I not say that the next time you’d hear from me would be from a lawyer? Or were you too busy thinking about your side pieces cunt to listen to what I had to say?”

You heard the sounds of a broken man wailing into your ear, the noise making your eyes roll.

“Please baby, I can’t do this without you. I’m so goddamn sorry. Just please give me one more chance.”

Your chest rose as you took a deep sigh, rubbing your temples in the process. “James, you couldn’t even wait 24 hours until I left the country for you to fuck somebody else. How the hell am I supposed to trust you? How do I know this was just a one time thing and you haven’t been making me look stupid for years?”

Stephen slyly listened as you yelled into your device, half-focusing on the papers in front of him.

Bucky had never heard you call him by his first name the entirety of your relationship, only addressing him with pet names. The government name sounded foreign, your tone filled with rage, as it ran off your tongue.

“Please sweetheart, it was only the one. I promise you. I can’t tell you how sorry I am, I feel like shit. I can’t sleep knowing that you’re not here anymore.”

You looked up at the ceiling, trying to maintain composure so that you didn’t cause a scene in the office space. “It’s kind of hard to believe you, considering the fact that I probably would’ve never found out if I didn’t come home early from my vacation.”

Bucky’s tears started to flow freely, he felt like he was in a nightmare that he couldn’t wake up from. “Please (Y/N). I’ll do anything. Anything you want I’ll do, just please give me one more chance.”

The LED lights hanging from overhead, caught the pear cut diamond of your engagement ring. The unplanned action gathering your attention to the 40 carat jewel.

You sat there as your mind raced, pondering all possibilities when one particular thought came to the forefront of your mind. “Anything, huh? You’ll do anything I say?”

Bucky sat up from the plush bed, hopefulness rushing through him like a tidal wave. “Yes doll, anything. You name it, it’s done.”

A smile decorated your face, “Alright. Remember our first anniversary, we stayed in the honeymoon suite at The Hotel Indigo? Meet me there tomorrow night, 8:45.”

You ended the call before you could hear his response. Pulling up your text messages, you scrolled until you found the desired contact. You typed in a message, detailing your plan before sending it off.

Once you were finished, you met the questioning eyes of your lawyer.

“Well, as I was saying,” his voice laced with interest, “Did you want to file the papers or did you want to hold off on them?”

Bucky had arrived at the hotel ahead of schedule, but waited in the car, not wanting to arrive earlier than expected and ruin his chance of gaining you back.

He made sure to look his best. Getting his haircut and beard shaved, dressing in that black sleek suit with the red floral patterned shirt that he knew you loved so much.

It was 5 minutes until the designated time when he climbed out the vehicle and made his way into the lobby and towards the elevator. His intimidating presence alone made the hotel's occupants stop in their tracks and shy away from the mobster.

Once he climbed up the appropriate level, he nervously walked down the hall and towards the honeymoon suite. The sight of the door bringing back a flood of memories of the night they shared all those years ago.

His ringed hand knocked on the hardwood door, the sound echoing throughout the empty hall. When you opened it, he was met with a sight he never expected to see that evening.

You had donned a red lingerie set. The cups of your bra elevated your breasts, your ass was accentuated with a lace thong. There was a matching garter on your waist, the straps of it leading and connecting to a pair of mesh stockings; the feature allowed your freshly painted white toes to shine through.

You looked absolutely delectable and Bucky could’ve came in his pants right then and there if he didn’t control himself.

“Come on in,” you stated, your voice seemed devoid of emotion as you walked back into the room.

Bucky followed as he watched you sit down on the creme colored silk sheets, your manicured hand pointing to the placed chair in front of the bed. “Sit.”

Listening to your orders, he immediately sat down in the seat directly across from you.

“(Y/N), baby I can explain. I-”

His pleas were instantly cut short at the raise of your index finger, the simple action shutting him up.

“I’m not here to listen to your excuses. You said that you would do anything, right? Anything, and you’d do it without question?”

Bucky nodded along, not even noticing the smirk on your face or the honeyed tone from your lips. He was beyond desperate to get you back. “Yes sweetheart. I can’t lose you.”

You smiled at him, content with his answer. A few seconds later there was a knock at the door. “Oh, that must be room service.”

You sauntered to the door, trying not to seem too excited at the expected guest. Once you unlocked the door, you were met with the 6’6” Adonis himself.

“What the fuck are you doing here Thor?” Bucky yelled, furious that he was interrupting his personal moment and also due to the fact that he has now seen you in such an intimate way.

The blonde chuckled, the noise was guttural and mocking, as he made his way into the suite carrying a plastic bag. It’s evident contents pierced through the plastic. “Hello James. Lovely weather we are having tonight.”

Bucky stood up, getting into the blondes face, “I don’t know what you’re doing here, but you need to get the fuck out now. You’re not welcomed here.”

“Actually he is. I invited him.”

Your confession had his eyes darting back and forth between you two, disbelief overwhelmed him. “Wh- what are you talking about (Y/N)?”

You made your way back to the bed, kneeling as the silk fabric caressed your legs. “Well, you said anything. And well, I realized that you won’t experience true pain, true heartbreak unless you feel what I felt that evening. So, you’re going to sit in that chair and watch as I let Thor fuck me.”

You couldn’t deny the fact that you found the blonde attractive. From his massive stature to his raucous and smokey voice that only accentuated his deep accent. You would always catch his wandering blue eyes whenever he came to visit for the weekly syndicate meetings. And though the thought of actually acting upon the urges never crossed your mind, you did always wonder what it would be like to lay with the Norse god-like man.

So when Bucky informed you yesterday that he would act on anything you desired, your first thought went to him. After scheduling the meet, you found Thor’s saved contact and told him about your plan. How you wanted to get back at your cheating, scumbag husband in the worst way possible.

You weren’t expecting him to agree so suddenly, his accepting response sent in not even 2 minutes after. He even said he would bring a special something to make sure everything went according to plan.

Which brings you back to this unfolding moment.

Bucky’s lips sputtered like a fish out of water, trying to form a sentence but was completely flabbergasted. “W- why him? Why this? Isn’t there anything else, something else I can do to prove how sorry I am?”

“The only way you’ll know what it feels like to watch your spouse fuck somebody else, is to actually watch them fuck somebody else. So it’s this way or the highway, take your pick.”

Bucky stood there and weighed his options. The thought of another man touching what was his made bile rise in his throat. But if letting Thor fuck you just this once would guarantee that he wouldn’t lose you, then that’s the price he would have to pay for his actions.

With a heavy sigh, he nodded his head. “Fine, if this is what I have to sit through I’ll do it. I’ll do anything to get you back, doll.”

Thor clapped his hands together, the mighty sound rang in your ears. “Perfect, now we will just need one more thing before we get this party started.”

Reaching into the hardware store bag, the man produced a lengthy amount of rope.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing with that?” screeched the brunette.

Thor looked at you, silently asking for approval, and was grateful that you nodded to his request.

“This is to make sure you do not get up and try to stop me. Or punch me. It’s for both actually.”

Bucky looked at you, silently pleading to stop this madness but you looked at him with daring eyes, trying to see if he actually wanted you as much as he cried out.

Knowing that his efforts were going nowhere, he sighed and made his way to the chair, sitting down and resting his arms on the wooden rests.

You watched as Thor securely tied him to the chair, tightly restraining every part of Buckys’ body, making sure there was no chance of a sudden escape.

Satisfied with his handiwork, he made his way to the bed, staring down at you. “Oh my dove, I have wanted to do so many things to you the second I met you. He is a fucking imbecile to stray away from a goddess like you.”

His intense gaze and pet name had you giggling, you felt heat rise up your body and warm your face.

“You better not even think about cumming inside of her!” Bucky interjected, his arms testing out the durability of the knots.

The two of you, lost in each other’s embraces, ignored the pleas of the restrained man.

“I am going to make you feel like a queen amongst men when I’m finished with you little one.”

And with that, the blondes hand latched onto your throat, dragging you to your feet to stand in front of Bucky.

With your back pressed against his front, Thor’s hands glided across your body. His rough and large hands were a stark contrast to the soft, suppleness of your frame.

A breathy sigh left you at the stimulation as he continued to massage your body. His warm palms cupped your breasts through your bra, fondling the fleshy mounds while his thumbs stroked your covered nipples. “Oh, Thor.”

All the blonde could do was smile at his dream come true unfolding. He had a crush on you the moment he saw you enter the meeting room of your shared home with Bucky years ago. Dressed in a pair of tight leggings and a crop top, he could barely contain the desire that flooded his being at the sight of you.

So he did everything in his power to break the two of you up, even joining in on the other leader's tirades of convincing the brunette to cheat.

When he heard that you had uncovered the truth he was overjoyed, even more so when he got that glorious text from you yesterday.

So he here was, groping and fondling your body with the grace that you deserved.

“That’s it love, just relax,” he purred in your ear.

Reaching behind and unclasping your bra, he removed the lace material to unveil you to him. Turning you to the side, he bent down a tad to take your left nipple into his mouth. His taut tongue swirling around your hardening peak made you press your chest deeper into the man as your back arched.

With your tit in his mouth, he occupied his hands by grabbing handfuls of your ass, relishing in the soft feel of them. Bringing a hand up, he collided his palm with your flesh, a loud spanking noise ringing out. The feeling of the metal rings he wore imprinting your ass made you lewdly moan into the air.

Your hands grasped the sides of his face, pulling him up to tower back over you. With his suit jacket in your hands, you began to strip him of his attire; starting with his jacket, unbuttoning his dress shirt, and finally removing his belt out of the metal clasp and pulling the leather out of the belt loops.

Looking deep into his eyes, you sank to your knees, tugging his slacks down in the process. Thor’s bulge was prominent through the thin pair of black briefs he wore, his hard on pleading to be free from its confines.

With your hands in the waistband of his briefs, you tugged them down his long legs, only stopping until you heard the thunderous noise of his heavy cock smacking against his abdomen.

You looked up at his manhood with your mouth agape and eyes bulged. Buckys’ cock was big, but Thors’ was huge.

The red mushroom tip was heavily leaking precum, the secretion already sliding down his stomach. His length was thick and veiny and his balls were heavy, the sight making you salivate.

Reaching up, grasping the base of him, his girth only allowing you to circle half of it. Thor sighed in relief at the feel of your soft hand easing his ache. “Ahh, you see what you do to me my love?”

Thor watched you look up at him as you took his head into your mouth, sucking and lapping up his precum.

You knew due to his girth it was going to be tough to take it down your throat, but you were determined to consume as much of him as possible.

Pulling away, you spit on his cock and begin rubbing to get it slick before shoving it back into your mouth.

“Oh yes, little one. Such a perfect mouth of yours.”

You could only take a third of him but you stroked what you couldn’t with your hands.

Bucky sat and watched as you pleasured the blonde, his heart breaking in the process. He knew that his punishment had only just begun but he didn’t know if he could handle watching anymore of it.

Thor grabbed onto the top of your head so that way you could look your husband in the eyes. He bucked into your mouth, the tip of him poking into your cheek and extending the fleshy muscle. “How in the world could you ever stray from a perfect little mouth like this one James? Feels like fucking heaven.”

His taunting words had the brunette tug at the binds, desperate to remove him from you.

“Now as much as I am enjoying your tongue,” the blonde began as he removed you from him, “I need a taste of your sweet cunt.”

Pulling you up by under your shoulders, he lifted you onto the bed. He wasted no time in ripping your thong to shreds before diving in tongue first.

“Oh fuck yes!”

You felt his tongue dart through your slick lips, tasting every crevice of your core before sucking on your clit. The action made your back arch and your cunt press more into his mouth.

Thor placed his left hand on your stomach, pushing down to restrain you. With his right, he pushed his middle and ring finger into your sopping heat. Every push and pull of his digits caused the fire to bloom in your core. Your juices leaked out and soaked his face and ringed hand, making the metal glisten under the light.

He felt your walls tighten and spasm, your impending orgasm evident. Thor sped up his motions with his hand and applied more pressure to your mound with his tongue until he felt your juices squirt out and a loud moan ring in the air. “God- fuck!”

The blonde finger fucked you through your release, until you were a panting mess. Removing his fingers he placed them in his mouth, sucking off your essence and making sure to be loud enough for the tied man to hear him. “You taste absolutely divine, my dove.”

Thor’s cock bobbed at the sight before him; your body spread out as your eyes were hooded, rising chest, and swollen cunt. You were a sight for sore eyes.

Even though you had just experienced an orgasm, you desperately wanted more so you reached out to him with grabby hands directed towards his cock. The action caused a booming laugh to escape him.

“Needy little thing I see,” Thor taunted, “I guess you needed a real man to show you how it’s done.”

All that flashed through Bucky's mind were thoughts of murdering the blonde with his bare hands. “You’re lucky you tied me to this fucking chair otherwise you’d be dead on the floor already.”

Thor ignored his threats as he pulled you up and into him, your legs wrapped around his waist. He carried you until he was right in front of the brunette. Placing you down on the floor, he manhandled your body until you were bent down, your hands holding onto Bucky’s forearms with your face directly in front of his.

He held the base of his cock, using it to run through your folds and getting it slick with your essence.

“Here little one. Let me show you how it feels to actually be fucked.”

A sharp yelp turned moan ripped through you at the sudden intrusion. Thor's cock filled you up in crevices of your cunt that you didn't know you had. He wasn't even fully sheathed inside of you and yet you felt so full. “Ahh- oh god.”

“Fucking hell princess, such a tight cunt,” spoke Thor through battered breaths.

With the compromising position you were in, Bucky felt every sharp breath leave your lips and waft over his face. Every buck of the blonde's hips pushed your frame into his. He watched your eyes roll back into your skull due to ecstasy. Ecstasy that, for the first time in your marriage, he wasn’t the cause of.

“Yes Thor, fuck, just like that.”

You felt the man behind grab onto your hips and pummel inside of you. You felt every ridge of his cock drag against your spasming walls.

The pace he had set was brutal, making you feel how badly he wanted- needed this.

Thor needed to show you what true bliss felt like. He needed to show you how you didn’t need the pathetic excuse of a man in front of you. And more importantly, he needed to show Bucky how much of a dumbass he was for thinking he needed anyone else but you.

He pulled out of you, much to your dismay, before trudging you back to the bed. He sat down on the edge and maneuvered your body to where your back was pressed against him once again while your legs were spread out on either side of his thighs. The position left you bare to the restrained man, allowing him to watch everything that was about to be performed to your soaked cunt.

Thor moved your right arm to sling across his shoulders, allowing the two of you to watch your victim. With both hands on your waist, he raised your body up and sunk you down on his shaft. A content sigh came from you both.

“You feel so warm my dove,” he cooed only loud enough for you to hear, “I could get used to this pussy wrapped around my cock for the rest of my days.”

You moaned at his statement while locking eyes with Bucky.

He unwillingly sat there and watched Thor piston into you. His sharp thrusts continuously impaled you as he matched them by bringing your hips down, creating a sweet tempo.

By the feel of your channel tightening around his cock, he could tell your second orgasm of the night was imminent.

Moving a hand down to your cunt, he rubbed taut circles to your numb, drawing a frenzied cry from you. “Oh yes! Fuck yes, please don’t stop!”

He laughed at your unadulterated request, “Would not dream of such a thing.”

Your head flew back in ecstasy as he continued fucking into you while rubbing on your clit, the pleasure becoming all-consuming.

“Look up,” Thor ordered you, “Look at your husband. Look how pathetic he looks as he watches his wife getting properly fucked. He cannot tear his eyes away from your delicious cunt. Poor bastard even has a hardon at the glorious sight of you taking every inch of me.”

And it was true. Even though Bucky hated the scene in front of him, he couldn’t deny the fact that it had him hot and bothered. The way your breasts bounced and the sounds of his- your squelching pussy had him in a daze.

Thor proceeded with his actions until he heard a mighty shout from you. “Yes- yes I’m cumming!”

He felt your cunt squeeze the life out of him as your juices soaked his cock and thighs. His thrusts began to dwindle down, trying to stave off his own release.

You felt like jelly against the mass of muscle pressed into your back. The two orgasms you experienced felt better than anything Bucky had ever given you in your 7 years of marriage.

Sensing your exhaustion, Thor slung his arm around your torso, keeping you upright. With you secure in his arm, he stood up and walked you around the side of the bed, then crawling onto the mattress. He flipped you onto your back causing you to stare back at him.

He maneuvered his hips until his dick caught onto your hole before slowly sinking in, your warmth engulfing him yet again. “Princess, you're going to be the death of me,” Thor spoke through clenched teeth, making you giggle.

With this new position came a new pace. What began as brutal and quick thrusts turned into slow and deep ones. He made sure to make you feel every ridge and every inch of him. The curve of his dick made your walls flutter around him, the stimulation driving the you two wild.

The both of your foreheads were pressed against each other, your eyes locked in as you savored the moment together.

So lost in the moment, you forgot all about Bucky sitting there watching. So far gone that you didn't register him crying.

Bucky had never thought he could feel true heartbreak until then. When he first got with Dolores, he thought about the off chance of you finding out, but he thought the revelation would be something you would be able to get over.

But sitting there, watching the love of his life being pleasured beyond belief by another man, he finally knew what you felt that evening when you walked in on him.

His chest was hot and heavy as agony filled it, tears fell down his face, and his whole body shook due to quiet sobs. “Please, please (Y/N). I get it. Just please stop.”

The pleas of the broken man fell on deaf ears as you and Thor were lost in your own world. The heavy weight of his large frame was comforting as he slowly drove into you. His hot breath warmed up your face as he looked down at you, his eyes filled with both lust and admiration.

“Who does this pussy belong to, my love?” He quietly questioned, directed only to you.

“It's yours Thor. It's all yours.”

With a content smile, he leant down and connected his lips with yours. His kisses were hungry, desperate even. Thor etched the comforting feel of your lips against his own in his mind.

Your mouth opened, giving the blonde the chance to slither his tongue into you. The wet feel of his tongue massaging your own, paired with his leisurely thrusts brought you to a blissful stupor.

You were both close, your breathy moans signaling your impending third orgasm were swallowed by the man above you.

Though his thrusts were still languid, Thor added a bit more power to them. His soft head repeatedly nudging your g-spot. Every impact from his cock made you lose a bit of reality as your core began to bloom.

“Cum in me,” you breathed into his mouth, “Cum in me and I’m all yours.”

With your blissful words filling his head, he delivered a few more passionate thrusts into your heat until you both came with a shout.

“Fuck!”

“Shit!”

Even though you were blissed out beyond belief, you felt Thor’s cock pump and coat your walls with his cum. Heavy amounts of his seed spilled out from your battered cunt, sliding down and staining the sheets below.

His thrusts continued but were slowed, all of his focus still on molding his lips to yours, drinking in the heavenly taste of you.

Once he had completely emptied himself inside of you, he removed his lips from yours and smiled. “You are mine forever, little dove. I’m not letting anyone take you away from me.”

You looked up at him with a dopey smile and eyelids heavy with lust. It was at that moment that you heard the sobs coming from Bucky.

Looking to the side, you watched as the brunettes head was down as he cried out, but quickly returned your attention to the man above.

“Take me home Thor.”

The blonde removed himself from you to search for his clothes. Picking up the stray material of his dress shirt, he waited for you to sit up before dressing you in it.

“Wait,” Bucky interjected, “What are you doing?”

With shaky legs, you got up from the mattress and went to the bedside table where a manila folder had been sitting; your cum dripping down your thighs and onto the bedroom carpet. Picking up the packet, you walked in front of Bucky and placed it, as well as your wedding ring, on his lap.

“Here are the divorce papers,” you avowed, “Make sure to sign them right away.”

Once he had put back on the remainder of his clothes, Thor went and picked you up bridal style and headed towards the door, leaving your now ex-husband to reflect by his lonesome.

“B-but you said-” the brunette bewailed, his eyes bloodshot and full of tears.

Looking over at the man, you laughed, “Did you really think you could have your cake and eat it too? That’s not how it works James. Have a nice life, I hope she was worth it.”

And with that, Thor whisked you away, down the hotel and towards the awaiting car, leaving the broken man tied to the chair.

Bucky was now a shattered being. Though part of him felt pure rage, his emotions were more consumed with grief. He had lost the greatest thing to ever happen to him, all because of his stupid desires.

So he unwillingly sat there, tears flowing uncontrollably as he wallowed in his self pity, regretting all of his choices knowing that he had now just lost you forever.

A/N: whew, this was a hot concept. i absolutely love cheating fics for some reason but i hate it when they make reader get back together with them, so decided to change that.

If you enjoyed this fic, please make sure to reblog and comment. feedback is much appreciated !

i do not allow the reposting, rewriting or translating of my fics. these are works of my own and i do not give permission for any of the acts stated above.

#the hotel indigo writing challenge #maeras writing challenge #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes #mafia!bucky #mob!bucky #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x fem!reader #sub!bucky #sub!bucky barnes #thor odinson #thor odinson smut #thor smut #thor x fem!reader #thor odinson x reader #thor x reader #thor #mafia!thor #mob!thor #thor fluff #dom!thor #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan angst #sebastian stan #chris hemsworth #chris hemsworth smut #mafia au #writing challenge

[atlaese]

before sunset, i fell - b.b.

summary: apparently, when you stay in the honeymoon suite, the husband and the ring on your left hand come with the package. *terms and conditions apply. refunds are not issued. pairing: modern!bucky x fem!reader tw: modern AU, cursing, allusions to smut, implied smut, alcohol, fluff, food, tell me if i missed something! words: 4.5K a/n: hi lovelies!! this is my entry for @ambrosiase indigo hotel writing challenge :) i chose the prompts honeymoon suite & vacation with bucky, but added a few little twists. also idk why but the blue suit on seb makes me go feral...😵‍💫 i worked on this for... the longest time i have ever worked on a fic, so i hope you like it!! p.s. Thank you to my loves @buckycuddlebuddy & @midnightf for helping me out 💞 i love y’all!!

p.p.s. i now have a library blog! go follow @aeristhotle and turn on notifs to get notified when i update!

reblogs and comments are appreciated ✨💗

BUCKY BARNES MASTERLIST | MARVEL MASTERLIST

A soft breeze was coming through the half-shut curtains, softly caressing your bare back as you inhaled lightly, pressing your face deeper in the soft pillow. It was such a nice morning. There were fresh sheets on the bed and they smelled like a washing product you didn’t immediately recognize as your own, a slight floral hint in them as you stretched out your arms. Everything felt good and the sound of waves crashing against rocks a few miles away, made it feel like you were on holiday in some far-away country.

You strained your eyes against the harsh morning light as you blinked a few times, trying to get the sleep out of your eyes. Something felt off though, maybe it was the pounding headache that made you screw your eyes back shut or perhaps it was the fact that these white sheets weren’t yours at all.

What is going on, you thought to yourself, scrunching the white sheets in your fists as you turned on your back, cold air hitting your bare skin as you looked down at your body in horror. Why were you naked? Even on the hottest summer nights you at least wore a pair of panties and an old tank top, so where were they now?

Quickly pulling up the sheets over your bare chest, you looked up at the ceiling again. Your sight was met with a fancy chandelier that you definitely didn’t own, just like the headboard that was way too big to fit your queen-sized bed.

What in the cliché movie is this. Did you just drink too much and book a hotel room for once, instead of relying on your friends to get you safely home in an overpriced cab?

Slightly sitting up and clutching onto the sheets, you scanned around the room you were in, looking at all the modern art that was hung up, as well as the small sliver of the sea you could spot through the curtains.

Your gaze ended up at the other side of the king-sized bed.

Underneath the white sheets, there was a man lying on his stomach, sheets barely covering his naked ass as he was breathing at a slow and steady pace, tufts of air making little noises that you would’ve found cute if you at least knew who this fucking man was.

As your heart battered in your chest, you silently stepped out of the bed, taking the sheets with you and leaving the man buck ass naked and you snuck over to the nearby door, hoping it was the bathroom and that it had a robe you could use.

Exhaling a breath you didn’t know you were holding, you closed the door behind you, thanking your guardian angel that it was indeed a bathroom. Two fluffy robes were neatly folded on the counter and you switched out the sheets for one.

Staring into the mirror, you had to take a moment to calm down and collect your thoughts. For some reason, you were staying in a hotel with a man you didn’t know. On top of that, both of you were naked, sleeping in the same bed, which said a lot and at the same time still left you confused.

You turned on the tap to splash some water in your face, to get rid of the foggy feeling that was inhibiting your head like a bank of mist that hung over the street, unable to see through unless you ventured further into it.

That’s when another piece of the puzzle fell into place. The cold metal of a ring rubbed against your cheek and you stilled in your movements - please, please don’t let me be married to a random guy. Please.

It was a simple gold band with a small diamond attached to it, that was resting on your left ring finger, signaling that you were now probably married to the man that was snoring away in the bed.

Pressing your face into a towel, you lightly screamed out of frustration into the plush cotton. It all felt like some sort of bad dream you couldn’t wake up from, a mixture of beauty and pain that was making your head spin. The only plus in this situation was the hotel suite you were in - it was large , spacious and more luxurious than you’d ever seen. This guy better pays for it.

Slipping out of the room without disturbing the man was the plan of action - and hopefully, your stuff was within reach to assure a swift and quiet exit.

“You’re not thinking about leaving me already, right, wifey?” the man chuckled from his place in the bed as you tried to silently close the bathroom door. You turned around quickly, eyes big in horror as you watched him.

He was still naked, but his head was turned your way now, still pressed into the pillow and blue eyes shining with an emotion you couldn’t quite place yet. Was he... happy?

“You’re less vocal today than yesterday, huh,” he snickered and sat up, his arms spread out as if expecting a hug. Being naked in front of a stranger wasn’t a big deal to him apparently. Flirting with one and making crude jokes wasn’t either.

“Uhm- I’m sorry,” you choked out, eyes straining to keep the eye contact and not lower to the rest of his physique - a physique that most definitely didn’t hurt your eyes.

Watching his face brought back a few flashes of memories you didn’t know you had. Blue eyes shining as you ran hand in hand through a venue, his soft touches that lingered on the open back of your dress and the soft rubbing of his scruff against your face as you were dancing slowly along with booming music in a club, lost in your bubble for two.

“C’mere,” he beckoned, a soft smile on his face as he watched your stoic expression. By some sort of gravitational pull - or his overall alluring charisma, you sat down on the bed next to him and he immediately pulled you into his body, his head buried in your neck as you tried not to freak out - again.

“What should we do today, maybe take that surfing lesson you talked about yesterday?” he mumbled against the skin of your neck, leaving a light kiss in the wake of his words. “It looks like a good day to go surfing.”

“Uh, sure,” you blinked rapidly, sifting through all the memories that were finding their way back to the surface like a whale swimming many feet below the water, ready to breach in an exhilarating moment of pure power.

“Okay,” he groaned, dragging his face away from your neck and standing upright, stretching out every limb as you averted your eyes from a certain body part, conveniently right in front of your face.

“Let’s go have breakfast and then we can figure out what to do,” he suggested, going to the bathroom.

The man quickly turned around again, facing you with a knowing smirk on his face. “If you can figure out my name, of course. You do remember that huh, wife of mine?”

The glint in his eyes betrayed that he knew exactly what was going on in the depths of your head. The way your eyes glossed over when you were thinking hard, sifting through the countless memories, trying to pinpoint who he was and what had happened in the last 24 hours.

It was odd to see a stranger know you so well, even after presumably spending little time together.

“It’s Bucky. Put on that blue dress and meet me for breakfast in 15,” he said with pursed lips, nodding his head to your open suitcase where a summery blue dress was laying on top, then disappearing in the bathroom, leaving just his scent lingering in the sheets you were previously wrapped up in.

“Fuck,” the words softly left your mouth as you fell on your back, staring up at the beautiful chandelier again. “What have I done now?”

* * *

True to his word, Bucky was sitting at a table for two, browsing through a local paper as another hand held a mug of coffee, just refilled by one of the many waiters bustling around. The staff were wearing goddamn white gloves. What kind of establishment is this?

After Bucky had disappeared into the bathroom, you had quickly thrown on the blue dress and a pair of espadrilles, before opening the door to the hallway and being swallowed whole into the maze that was this hotel.

The hotel had a magnificent garden too, overlooking the blue ocean that was softly lapping against the pearly white beach. The air that left your lungs slowly started to match the calm rhythm of the water coming up to you and backing away again, a natural element of calm providing you with the necessary support.

You had needed to get away from the whole pompous honeymoon suite and the strange but alluring man in it. Memories were still flitting through your head at lightspeed, too quick to understand what they were and in what order they were supposed to be put in. It felt like you were flipping through a photo album, the pictures shuffled around to make the timeline incomprehensible.

And there he was, looking all soft in a light blue t-shirt, a white chino and some flip flops on his feet. He didn’t seem dangerous. He looked like any other guy you could fall for, his smile a little too reckless to be good, his charm overwhelming you in the best way. This man was going to be trouble, for sure.

He looked tanned, little freckles dotted over his arms, his tanned cheeks pulling into a smile when he noticed you standing a few feet away, looking a little dishevelled from the wind blowing in your hair, your eyes wide and cautious.

“Ah, there you are,” Bucky stood up, leaving his napkin on the table as he pulled back the chair opposite of his, gesturing that it was yours to sit in.

“Uh, thank you,” you mumbled as he pushed the chair closer to the table before sitting down again. “Sorry, needed a breather.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he snickered, finally taking a bite from the croissant he had grabbed from the buffet. “I got you a pain au chocolat, hope you like that.”

“Yeah, thanks,” you mumbled, pulling a piece of buttery dough and stuffing your mouth. Just like everything else in this hotel, it was perfect and luxurious. Goddamn, this isn’t making it any easier to just bolt and leave this fever dream behind.

“So, tell me, has it always been a dream of yours to surf with dolphins,” he genuinely asked, a certain spark in his eyes as he put down his mug and leaned his chin on a fist.

“Uhm, well, you see up until 30 minutes ago it wasn’t,” you wrung your hands together in your lap, peering around the room and effectively avoiding his azure eyes. “It does sound very fun.”

Bucky gripped the armrests of his chair and shuffled closer towards you, the chair making a screeching noise over the marble floors as other patrons shot looks at the odd couple that was disturbing their peaceful breakfast.

“What do you remember from, say yesterday morning?” Bucky asked, his eyes narrowed as he watched you attempt to remember what had happened after your breakfast.

“I got breakfast in the hostel, which by the way, is nowhere near as fancy as this place, drove around with a scooter on the island and met a friend for margaritas in the bar on the town square.”

“Then, it’s blank,” you admitted, “or not really. I have these- these memories of us walking hand in hand through a venue and other stuff, but I can’t seem to put them in the right order.”

“Still a bit foggy up there, huh,” he tapped his temple, azure eyes awash with concern. “I can retell my part of our story, maybe that gives your brain a jumpstart?”

You nodded, eyes now focused on him as you wrapped your hands around the mug with steaming coffee as Bucky looked up at the ceiling, mouth pulled into a pout.

“Okay, you and your friend… I don’t remember their name-”

“Alex.”

“Right, Alex,” he scraped his throat, “we were next to each other at the bar and we got to talking and there were a lot of drinks.”

“Like a lot,” he stressed, his hand sifting through his hair, remembering the bill he paid and the number of times he had to try to get the code of his credit card right.

“Still doesn’t explain this,” you lifted up your left hand, the ring catching the rays of the sun and a small rainbow crossed your face. Bucky had to try his best not to pull out his phone and snap a picture of you, the combination of your soft skin, the small rainbow and your lips that were pulled into a small pout making it hard.

“Well, that was your idea, actually,” he bit his lip, scrunching his nose as your mouth dropped open in shock. “You were pretty convincing, I gotta add.”

“I- are you sure?” you asked, just to be sure you heard it right. Why would you ever ask a random man you met just that day to marry you?

Bucky just nodded, a tinge of cockiness present on his face as he resumed to tell the story of how you two met and how exactly this whole thing happened.

“So, your friend found this chapel thingy? They flagged down a cab, found a store with simple wedding dresses and found someone to officiate it,” Bucky said, with an impressed look on his face. “All while they were black-out drunk, I have to say that’s a talent.”

“Would it surprise you when I told you they are a professional party planner?” you said, scratching your forehead as you thought about how much money this must’ve cost. Weddings could easily go into the thousands and knowing your taste, you picked out an expensive dress.

“Am I bankrupt by now? It wasn’t your best idea to marry me if I spent all my cash on this little escapade.”

“No, I covered it, you’re fine,” he chuckled as you exhaled a breath, happy you didn’t splurge on a stupid wedding dress for a wedding you can’t even remember.

“But, now I feel bad. How much was it?” you asked, your hand landing on his forearm, sending an electric wave through the both of you, as you tried your best to not show how much it affected you.

“It wasn’t that much, honestly,” he said, his cheeks showing a tinge of red as he tried to play it off as if it was normal to pay for a stranger’s stuff, let alone a wedding dress. “Really, don’t worry about it.”

Something about the way he said those words without much care, showed that even he wasn’t bothered to pay for anything at all. He must be comfortable, to talk about expensive hotel suites and wedding dresses as if they were groceries you got at the supermarket.

“Enough talk about money. I hired a pair of surfboards and wetsuits for the day,” he stood up, reaching out his hand to pull you up. “You ready to go?”

You pondered for a second, before looking up at him, eyes shining brightly, “on one condition. We don’t talk about real-life depressing stuff while we’re here. No talking about jobs or family or other bullshit. Just us.”

The story he had told seemed to fit into the jumbled memories that were slowly assembling themselves in your mind and it didn't seem like he had any malicious attempts for you, looking at his face that seemed more trustworthy than the one of your ex.

A grin pulled on his lips as he nodded, his hand still outstretched as he wiggled his fingers, “it’s a deal.”

Taking his hand, he pulled you up, his other arm coming around your waist to hold you close, his grip a stronghold on you as his eyes looked between yours, trying to figure you out, an enigma right in front of his eyes that got more complex every time he blinked.

“Let’s go enjoy our honeymoon then, sweetheart.”

* * *

The surfing was way more fun than you expected it to be. Both clad in wetsuits, you tried your best to stand up on the board, the big waves knocking both of you off of it as you tried your best to contain your laughter.

Bucky was just as bad as you, probably even worse. The man had no balance whatsoever as the board just kept getting away from under his feet, even when the waves had calmed down after a while.

After a few hours of messing around together, Bucky took your hand and interlaced your fingers, as you both sat down on the boards and floated around, waiting for the sun to set in its thousands of pastel colours.

“Just so you don’t float away,” he said as an excuse, nodding down to your interlaced hands.

“Right,” you bit your lip, turning your head away to hide the smile that was gracing your face.

Both of you knew it wasn’t just about floating away anymore, it was about staying together, getting to know each other in other ways than normal people would. You had started where most stories ended and done it all in reverse.

It confused other people too.

When you were at a restaurant the following evening, an older couple came up, asking how long you too had known each other as they were so drawn in with the way you interacted with each other. When Bucky straight-facedly told them it had been a full 72 hours, they scurried off as the two of you buckled over in laughter.

Every night before you went to bed, there was still a tension to be found, like a current running between your digits as you turned your back to him in bed, trying your best not to let your stuttering breaths wake him.

It was hard for him, too. The bed was big enough for you to comfortably sleep in, but each morning you woke up with one of you on the other side, limbs tangled as heat rose to either of your cheeks before you scurried off to the bathroom for a cold shower, shaking the thoughts from your head.

On the sixth night, there was this unspoken agreement after you had spent the day driving around the island on a scooter, your arms wrapped around his waist and your cheeks squished against his shoulder. The whole day there had been a certain weight on the fleeting touches as if to try out where the limit was.

If there was even a limit.

Finally laying in bed, close to 1 am, he pulled your body towards him as he nestled his head in the crook of your neck, pressing a soft kiss against the delicate skin before you dozed off, the moon shining on the soft ripples of the ocean, illuminating the smile on your face Bucky couldn’t see.

It happened on the seventh day, the early morning breeze that was flowing through the windows making goosebumps rise on both of your skins as your bodies collided together.

He tried his best to leave your body unmarked, his fingers gently digging into your hips as his lips were on every inch of naked skin — seemingly all at once, like when the sun kissed your skin with its golden rays, warming you up. His touch made your body burn from the inside out, open and hot mouthed kisses making you beg for more of everything.

After a while, when the sun had finally risen just above the edge of the sea, when birds had started to chirp and when you both finally tumbled over the edge, he dropped down, his face nestling in the crook of your neck as one hand caressed his spine and the other sifted through his long hair.

It couldn’t have been a better morning to wake up to, especially as he happily sighed in comfort when you scratched his scalp, his full body weight on you providing a certain comfort no one else ever could.

The last few days started and ended just like that, wrapped up in each other, basking in the loving company of your newfound lover. The sun followed you everywhere you went, gracing you with its rays bouncing off of Bucky’s tanned skin, his pearly teeth standing out as his hands grabbed ahold of your body at all times.

The moments in between were filled with bare-foot beach walks, surfing on the Hawaiian waves - or trying to - and exploring the connection that you two stumbled upon.

This whole ordeal felt like a warm embrace, a hot cup of coffee on a cold morning where a snowstorm was ravaging outside.

It felt like a story from out of a cheesy fairy tale that should have some sort of plot twist somewhere, a witch coming to ruin all the plans, or a monster making the calm waves you were floating on ripple, causing the little boat of comfort you were in to capsize.

You could only hope the boat you two had built together was strong enough to withstand all the waves that still had to come your way, brewing somewhere in the future. How would your loved ones react to this one-of-a-kind story?

* * *

But alas, every fairy tale needs its ending. Yours was back home, back to your desk job that was nowhere near exciting as the recruiter made it out to be. Especially after this week where Bucky’s lips were never far from your face and other parts of your body. Working at your bleary office seemed like a drag all of a sudden, making you long for more exciting days where you and your now-husband were exploring new cities and each other.

“You got married?! Last week? to whom?” Florence, your colleague, whisper-shouted in your ear as you were typing up a final report, trying to get it finished before your new boss arrived.

“ Girl, I’ve known this man for like 10 days and I think he might be my soulmate,” you said, eyes not leaving the screen. “It started off kinda strange but we had so much fun, so we might just… stay married, you know? Plus, it’s easier to tell the family honestly.”

“Like how do I tell my mum that I’ve gone off and married a stranger, spent a week gallivanting around Hawai’i with him, only to then get a divorce?”

“Also, bonus, he’s so hot, like model hot Flo, sometimes I think he just stepped out of a catalogue,” you added, thinking about his blue eyes and brown hair, the slight scruff adding an edge to his face that made your heart pump the blood in your veins a tad faster.

“I don’t, but it sounds awesome,” she chortled, “what’s the hottie’s name?”

“Okay it’s kinda a weird name, so don’t judge,” you cringed, your mouth pulled in an awkward pout. “Bucky, it’s a nickname he likes.”

“Okay, but that’s kinda cute, no? Kinda childlike too, not gonna lie,” she lifted her brow as she stood up. “Anyway, the new boss should be here any sec now and his name is boring in comparison to your boo’s.”

“What’s that?” you saved the file and turned around in your chair, smoothing down your hands on the front of your blazer, trying to make it crease-free. Creases just made for a bad impression, especially when you need to make a good one for this new boss.

The consulting company you had been working for the last three years was in dire need of new management, so after countless headhunters had sifted through the best of the best, they finally had someone.

“James, bleh, imagine what an old white man that will be.”

Well, your boss didn’t need to be hot, he just needed to keep the company afloat and on track. It would have been fun though. A certain fifty shades of grey added to the dull company.

In the corner of your eye, you saw the secretary stand up, probably ready to greet the man as other co-workers eagerly raised their heads over their computers, wanting to have a first glance at the man.

“Oh, there he is!” Florence grabbed your upper arm, squeezing it lightly, “okay, he’s kinda cute from behind, no?”

The light blue suit gave you flashbacks - again - to the time in Hawai’i where Bucky and you went out for dinner and later strolled over the beaches without shoes, just enjoying the feeling of the sand sifting under your feet.

“Oh god,” you mumbled as he turned around, his eyes scanning the office and the people in it, big blue eyes landing on you. “Bucky.”

Guess this was the plot twist you had been expecting.

“What?” Flo aggressively whispered, her eyes rapidly flitting between you and your apparent new boss and new husband. “Are you kidding me?!”

Bucky didn’t waste a moment as he strode over to you, the shock on his face quickly replaced by a small smirk as he watched your expression change from shock to disbelief.

His hands landed on the side of your upper arms as he leaned in to press a kiss against your cheek, his scruff rubbing against your skin making the memories breach through the surface once again.

“Well hello, wifey, didn’t expect to see you here.”

Bucky left you standing there, eyes wide and shivers running through your body as he followed the secretary to the big meeting room, all set up for him to give a short presentation about his plans for the future of the company.

“Hello?” Florence took a hold of your shoulders, roughly shaking you from the frozen state you were in. “What in god’s name was that?!”

“That’s uh- that’s my husband,” you held onto her arms, afraid of losing your balance on the heels that felt too high all of a sudden, the natural light that was streaming into the building making you feel lightheaded.

“You- you never talked about your jobs?” she shrieked, shaking you again, trying to get you to realize what this would mean for your future at the company. “That’s like the first thing that you talk about on a date!”

“I don’t know if you noticed, but nothing about this situation is normal,” you said through your teeth, blinking rapidly.

“God, you snagged a hottie!” Florence babbled off, her focus no longer on your body that felt like it wanted to run away from here, run back to the safety of the Hawaiian hotel, where it felt you were in your own little universe.

Your eyes flit towards the glass walls of the conference room, where your husband was shaking hands of other employees, his eyes trained on you still, occasionally acknowledging the person he was speaking to.

“I think I want a refund from that Hawai’i package I got,” you said to yourself before the whole team was called into the room, where your husband was standing with a cocky smirk on his face.

#the hotel indigo writing challenge #maeras writing challenge #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes blurb #bucky x reader #bucky barnes drabble #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes #mcu #marvel #fatws fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes reader insert #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x you #bucky barnes one shot

[spookiekewchie]

Risk & Reward

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Characters: mobster!Sam x black!reader

Summary: Breaking up with a notorious mobster isn’t easy, especially when he refuses to accept the words “it’s over”. 

Word Count: 2.5k+

Warnings: kinda sorta dark!sam?, implied stalking, a little dubious consent, manipulative behavior,  fingering (f receiving), a lil exhibitionism (idk yall i think sam would be into it no matter the au), language, mention of calling sam daddy (as you should)

A/N: One of my entries for @ritesofreverie​‘s hotel indigo challenge. I hoooope I fulfilled the prompt I chose okay and hopefully you enjoy. If there’s any errors or typos my bad, I gave it a look over before posting but I probably missed something knowing me. Moodboard made by me, and the divider is by @firefly-graphics 

DO NOT repost or translate my work anywhere. Reblogs are always welcome, and let me know that you enjoy my fics.

Prompt: Where business meets pleasure + mobster with Sam Wilson

“Has anyone ever told you that you work too hard, darlin’?” Comes the smooth voice of Sam, notorious mob boss, owner of the hotel you were currently managing, and your ex boyfriend. You merely sigh, ignoring him as he steps into the manager’s office and shuts the door behind him. You resist the urge to look up at him, choosing instead to focus your attention on the emails you’re sifting through. The laptop screen is a less tempting sight than Sam, and you don’t need him distracting you while you’re trying to work. Your situation isn’t exactly standard, but you’ve put so much into running the legitimate side of Sam’s business that you refuse to simply walk away from it. In hindsight you realize that you probably should have. 

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re annoying?” You quip, and while you can’t see it you know he’s smirking at you. You can practically feel it as he walks further into the office and leans forward to press a hand against the smooth surface of the desk. “I’m working, what do you want Samuel?” His smirk drops, and again, you don’t need to look at him to know it. He hates when you call him that, it’s too formal for how familiar the two of you are. In his eyes it’s a sign of you trying to put distance between the two of you, and Sam refuses to allow that. 

He’s already allowed you to suffer under the delusion that he’s your ex and that you two are currently not in a relationship. Because as far as Sam is concerned you are still his, and you’re still together. You just needed a little break from the dangerous life that he lived. Sam figures a couple months is long enough, and he wants his woman back. He's been plenty patient, even entertained you going on a few dates. Dates that he made sure went nowhere because the moment you bid them goodnight he was there to make sure they never contacted you again. And the disappointment always sent you back into his arms for a night. It's manipulative, Sam's well aware, but it's the best way he knows to show you that you belong with him and no one else is good enough.

After all, how can they say they deserve you when they run at the first sign of a threat. Honestly he's doing you a favor. 

The truth is simply that you needed a break from Sam, from his intense need to possess you in every way imaginable.

"Is that anyway to talk to your boss?" Sam's query makes you scoff in disbelief, and finally you look up at him. 

Big mistake. He's wearing that suit he knows you love to see him in, and he's giving you that look that lets you know he's here for more than just business. You suck in a breath, ignoring the way heat slithers through your belly and settles between your thighs just at the sight of him. It’s been nearly a month since your last slip up with him and you’re trying to stay strong. It’s not easy when you can practically read his mind as he eyes you like he wants to devour you. You already know he’s thinking that you’re wearing too many clothes, and that he wants to see you in nothing but the pretty brown skin that he wants to kiss and touch every inch of. "Samuel—." You cut off the statement as soon you clock the almost imperceptible way his eyes narrow slightly. 

“Darlin’, you know I hate it when you call me that.” He sighs out, smoothly moving his way behind the desk as his long fingers drag against your desk. You try to focus on his words, and not his fingers, knowing that if you do your mind will wander to the thoughts of how easily he can take you apart with them. You can’t have that, not after the last time you woke up in his bed after a moment of weakness that you swore will never happen again. “Call me Sam or…” He trails off, and you know exactly what he wants to hear you say and the name is on the tip of your tongue before you clamp down on it with your teeth. Daddy. God just thinking about calling him that makes your pussy throb.

Sam tsks, shaking his head as he reaches to shut your laptop and push it aside so he can maneuver himself in front of you and lean against your desk. This is not what you need today, all you want to do is manage the hotel, deal with a few upset customers, and maybe have a drink at the hotel bar later before you call it a day and go home. Dealing with Sam and his need to work his way back into your life is not on your list of things that you want to deal with. “You really gon’ make me drag it out of you, huh? Just a few weeks ago it’s the only thing you wanted to call me.” 

His cockiness makes you push away from him in your rolling chair, only for him to immediately reach out and pull you right back in until you're sitting between his spread thighs and forcing yourself to meet his gaze and not stare at his crotch. “Sam I can’t keep doing this with you, I told you already. It’s over. We’re done.” 

“We aren’t done, and you’re smart enough to know that I ain’t about to accept that breakup shit you talkin'.” He lifts a hand from the armrest of your chair and catches your jaw with a firm grip. “In fact, I think it’s about time you came back home. Missed having you in our bed.” He murmurs, and you can feel the knot twisting in your stomach at how adamant he’s being about you coming back to him. It’s a mix of want and worry as you peer into his deep brown eyes. He was taking a risk being so adamant with you right now, he knew how much of a fight you could put up and for a moment he expects you to try and cut him down to size with your words. 

Risk and reward, that was the story of his life and he had a knack for getting what he wanted in the end. 

You open your mouth to speak, to offer up a rebuttal but the moment your soft pillowy lips part he’s taking the moment to slip the tip of his tongue past them. The digit brushes over your tongue, and for the briefest of moments you let yourself fall back into old habits and let your tongue tease against the man’s thumb. It’s his soft groan that brings you back to yourself and all the insistence that you’re done with Sam and his possessive nonsense. You make an attempt to jerk your head away, and the effort is met with frustration as he moves faster to bring his hands to the sides of your face and force you to look at him. The flash of frustration is clear as it flickers over his features, and it makes your stomach flip. 

“Stop fuckin’ tryin’ta run away from this.” He utters the words softly, keeping the growl from his voice but you can feel how tense he is as he holds your face carefully in his big hands. “Stop acting like you don’t want me, like you don’t still love me.” And you can’t deny that you don’t. That’s what makes this so frustrating. You do still want him, and you do still love him, and you know he loves you. It’s just that his love has a body count and it’s intense. Far more intense than anything you’ve ever had directed at you from a lover. You don’t know how to deal with it, part of you wants to simply give into it, but that stubborn side of you wants to fight against how much control you’ll be giving up to let him have you the way he wants to. But what choice do you really have when you both know that he’ll continue going out of his way to make sure he’s the one you end up going back to every time. 

“Sam, I can’t keep having this conversation with you.” Your resolve is breaking and you know he can see it. 

“Then stop fighting the inevitable because I’m not letting you go, darlin’.”  You can’t even process that before you feel his lips pressing insistently to yours. It takes you all of a second to fall into it, hands sliding against Sam’s strong thighs as you press into the kiss. For all his faults no man feels as right as he does, even his kisses are intoxicating to you and it’s yet another reason why you can’t bring yourself to cut him off completely. He’s your bad habit and you both know it. Kissing him is draining all of the fight out of you, and it’s like your body is on autopilot as your hands go to his belt to fumble with it until you have it undone. Seconds away from working his pants open the sound of the office door swinging open brings you to a screeching halt as it snatches you back to your senses. 

Sam all but growls, frustration etched on his handsome features as he throws a dark look over his shoulder at the poor hotel employee that dares to interrupt. “Get. Out.” Two simple words, spoken quietly and through clenched teeth but that’s enough. The weight of his reputation makes the notorious mobster’s words carry a threat that is heard loud and clear. Your head knows better than to find that attractive, but your pussy is a traitor and clenches pathetically around nothing. You need to put some distance between you and Sam before your pussy takes over and has you giving in to whatever Sam wants right then and there. 

Using the distraction you push away from Sam and stand from the office chair to make an attempt to reach your office door. Of course you find yourself pressed up against the closed door as Sam’s fingers reach down to twist the lock into place before his strong arms cage you in. “What did I say? Stop trying to run from me, because I’m not lettin’ you go, darlin’.” There are those words again, possessive and definitive as Sam presses you harder into the office door. 

Your protests die on your tongue when you feel one of his hands squeezing against your breasts through the thin button up blouse that you wear. The traitor between your thighs pulses with arousal, body craving the man’s touch as his free hand rucks your tight skirt up. There’s no silencing the mewl of pleasure that sneaks its way out of you when he presses his thigh between your parted legs. “See, how the hell you gonna tell me you don’t want us to be together when you can’t even keep your legs closed around me.” His words have heat rushing through you, and you know you should be angry at him for the crude words but how can you when you aren’t even trying to fight him off. You’re past that, all your arguments for why you can’t keep going down this road with him and why you can’t be with him fizzling out until the only thing your mind can comprehend is the need to feel him. 

“Sam, please…” You hate how desperate you sound, but the way he has you aching for him when he’s barely touched you is enough for your pride to take a backseat for the moment. His dark chuckle tells you that he is aware that he has you right where he wants you as he drops his hands to push your soaked panties down your legs until they’re dangling uselessly around one of your ankles before he’s hitching your leg around his waist. Fingers prod at your slick sex, your hands gripping against his shoulders as his teases and explores your folds with a satisfied hum on his lips before finally sinking two digits into your tight heat. The moan that leaves your lips is wanton, and needy, your walls squeezing greedily at his digits as he slowly works them in and out of you at an agonizingly slow pace. It takes him no time at all to have you dripping down his fingers, and you can hear how wet you are, somehow that only sets you further on edge as your hips begin to rock against Sam’s fingers before a strong hand slams your hips back against the door. 

“You’ve been so difficult, running around with these other guys as if they could ever compare to me. Trying to give away what you know is mine.” His words are a near growl, and you can hear the frustration in his voice as his words are pressed into your hair. “I’ve been so patient with you, so benevolent, so fucking understanding.” He hisses that last one as you clamp down on his fingers with a wobbly moan on your lips. “Now I wanna hear you say it, darlin’.” He pulls back just enough to let you see his face. “Wanna hear you beg me to remind you who you belong to.” His fingers curl inside you and it takes him no time at all to find that patch of nerves inside you that nearly causes your knees to buckle. 

This isn’t like the other times when he’d let you use him for a quick fuck to get out your frustration at another case of being ghosted, unknowingly because of him. This time Sam is intent on making you understand that he’s been serious this whole time about not letting you go or letting you move on from him. It’s hard to deny when he’s literally holding you by the pussy, and you want nothing more than to feel him pounding an orgasm or several out of you. 

Maybe you should just accept it, he’s never hurt you. He’s just a little possessive, you can deal with that. Is what that dark little voice in your mind tells you, despite knowing that it's more than just a little. It's hard to think up a pros and cons list when Sam's fingers are stroking against that spot inside you and all reason leaves you as you crumble under the weight of your desires. Your hands grip against the collar of his suit jacket as you tug him forward. 

“Remind me yourself.” You breathe in between gasping moans, managing to salvage a little bit of your pride by playing on his. 

There’s a pause, his fingers stilling inside you for just a second before you see the all too familiar smirk on his face. Sam pushes in a third finger, and you hiss but he doesn’t bother letting your body adjust before he’s roughly plunging them in and out of you. “Now you know better, darlin’. Did you forget about all the times I’ve broken you down to tears before I even let you look at my cock?” His filthy words have you clamping down harder on his fingers, and he chuckles at the strained whine that’s fighting to free itself from your mouth. He’s so cocky, and you know it’s with good reason. Sam isn’t lying and now that you’ve put the challenge out there you know he’s going to spend the rest of his day taking you part again and again. 

“I—” Your attempt at a smart comment is cut off by the sound of someone knocking on your office door, and to your surprise Sam doesn’t bother stopping his fingers as they thrust noisily into your dripping core. He merely opens the door enough for him to stick his head through. Whatever the hotel employee has come to say is forgotten when they hear the muffled moans from you and the wet squelch of fingers in your cunt. 

“Do me a favor and have a bottle of champagne delivered to the presidential suite, I’ll be staying the weekend.” 

You can barely make out the stammering reply that Sam receives from the staff member, everything sounds like background noise as the blood rushes in your ears. Sam closes the door again, pressing you back against it with a grin before lifting his free hand to let it wrap lazily around your throat. 

“Now where were we…”

#sam wilson x woc!reader #sam wilson x black!reader #sam wilson x reader #sam wilson x woc #sam wilson x you #sam wilson reader #sam wilson fic #sam wilson fanfic #sam wilson fanfiction #woc!reader #black!reader #trilla writes #the hotel indigo writing challenge #maeras writing challenge

[shieldedreams]

home is wherever i’m with you (f.a.)

summary ⇾ when you move into the house across from frank adler’s, it’s like he’s falling in love with you all over again. details ⇾ this is for @ritesofreverie​‘s the hotel indigo writing challenge! [the modern muse + neighbour] 5,635 words (+ end cut: 543 words) / frank adler x reader / 🌸🔥a bunch of fluff and emotions (friends-to-lovers-ish) + a lil’ steamy in between notes ⇾ reader is an art teacher, previously worked in the same uni as frank / reader calls frank ‘frankie’ and frank calls reader ‘lovie’ / takes place some time after the movie’s timeline

[mentions of suicide / minors dni! mentions of certain explicit details of sex + suggestive themes]

frank’s morning began a bit different today when he noticed across the street there’s a truck along with a new car he hadn’t seen before. well, not exactly new new but he hasn’t seen it in the neighbourhood once; which was odd. he picks up his morning paper, and just as he’s about to head in, a familiar voice greets him: “good mornin’, frank,”

he turns to the side, nodding, “roberta,”

“i see you’ve noticed your new neighbour,” she comments, sipping on her cup of tea that she probably made from his house considering that’s his cup. he snorts, using his eyes to point ahead of him, “yeah, it’s only a sixteen feet vehicle you can see from a mile away,”

“don’t get sassy with me,” she smacks his arm with a tut, earning a chuckle from him as he shakes his head, “who is it, anyway?”

frank watches as roberta debates on telling him or to let him find out on his own. he raises a brow at her silence, now turning to face her as he squints his eyes. she gives in with a sigh, pushing him by the shoulder to get him to move away, “name’s y/n y/l/n,” she starts off, “and if i’m not wrong, she said something about being a boston university alumni. art teacher, i think? decided to settle down here for a bit, wanted a change of scenery,”

roberta spares a glance at frank and notices how the cogwheels in his mind are already turning. not for the reasons she’s thinking of but it sure looks like it when a small smile stretches on his face. 

“don’t go scaring her off, frank. i actually like her.”

“yes ma’am,” frank gives a firm nod, making slow moves back into his house just as roberta walks away. when she’s gone from the vicinity, frank lingers by the door just a little while as he stares at the house across from his. the name rings a couple of bells, yet a few he can’t quite recollect it at the moment. he doesn’t have time to wallow in his thoughts when mary’s yell echoes into his ears: “where’s my left sock?!”

//

when the day stretches out to the night, frank has mary tucked in bed with fred before he heads out (only after he texts roberta to keep an eye out while he’s gone). the memories come flooding in when frank allows himself to wander down memory lane. he tries to have a memory boost by going through the papers stashed in the glove compartment of his truck; to no avail when he doesn’t find what he wants. 

he scoffs and defeatedly leans back on his seat, flicking the sun visor down in frustration only to get a glimpse of what he’s actually looking for. with shaky fingers, he reaches for the tucked polaroid picture. the white ink scribbled on the back clear to him in the dark: cranky frankie & artsy lovie.

he flips it over and he’s taken back to the years of his youth in boston–mornings of having his coffee in the pantry as he talks to you about a game you absentmindedly humor him with nodding every now and then. afternoons of him walking you to your classes and impromptu extended lunch breaks. nights of wanting to hold you in his arms to sleep but resorts to settle for a kiss on the cheek as the day ends. the cycle repeating and staying that way for the sake of your jobs and professionalism, along with the friendship frank couldn’t bear to jeopardize... that was, until frank moved away to florida when he took mary under his care.

he shoves the key into the ignition and drives off, constantly glancing at the polaroid.

//

frank heaves out a deep breath the second his foot steps into the bar. it’s rowdy and a bit crowded as usual, but not too bad considering it’s a weekday. despite being at a place that was like a second home to him, he grows nervous as he rubs his hands together, half-uncertain with what he’s really doing here other than a tempting pint of beer. he decides it’s the first thing to do, heading to the counter and already a pint swings his way. that’s when he spots you.

sitting in a secluded corner as you took in the atmosphere, scribbling something on your book. a piece of frank’s memory replaces the imagery with–”lovie, whatcha got there?” he tries taking a peek at your sketchbook, only to be turned down with the swipe of your finger on his cheek, nudging him away even though he’s well-aware his face is on there. “you said you’d wait until it’s done,”

he scoffs, his ankle nudging yours under the table, “but you’re not paying attention to me. i didn’t say i want that.”

“in life, we can’t always have what we want, frankie,”

as frank stares at you with parted lips and wanting eyes, he wonders if you know how much your words puncture his heart every time he looks at you–”frankie?”

frank visibly blinks out of his daze, eyes refocusing on the person now in front of him that had been a mere distance away. he sucks in a breath at the proximity, hating himself for holding a beer because now he can’t reach out to you with both arms. “lovie,” it sounded so foreign coming out of his mouth, but it feels right, “is that really you?”

“wow,” you say, clicking your tongue at him, “even after all these years, seems like my decision-making can’t ever run far away from you,” your giggle is innocent, yet charting into dangerous territories when frank feels his heart stopping. he can’t function right, only processing the lack of distance between your bodies when you’re already putting your arms around him. 

he tries his best despite one hand gripping onto the glass, the other tightly banding around your waist to reel you in. his eyes flutter shut at the feeling of being in your embrace; warm and welcoming, like home. it felt like home. your arms squeeze his torso with your face pressed to the column of his neck. he feels you chuckling when you try to pull back but he refuses with a huff, determined to keep you close, “not so fast... it’s been too long,”

the moment spans out to be longer than you imagined yet not enough when he allows you to retract from him. wordlessly, he uses a hand on your lower back to guide you back to your table. as you two take a seat, the conversation starts flowing automatically; like two puzzle pieces connected after ages of being separated. 

frank fills you in about... well, everything. since he came here, since diane... which he doesn’t linger too much on. you know that’s a conversation for another time when he’s not ready to talk about it yet. only clarifying the few of what happened to the navier-stokes equation after evelyn took over to publishing it, the day-to-day with mary, and what he does for a living.

then the coin flips and frank has his chance to ask the questions he wants. understanding how you ended up in florida when you had a teaching position in the same university he had been working at. a change of scenery and a new environment as pre-empted from roberta but now more detailed. the timing was perfect when a friend had an opening position as a part-time art teacher and freelance designer that fit well with what you wanted. so that fast-forwards you to packing things up and moving hundreds of miles away from one city to another.

a couple of drinks down and reminiscing on old times, the settling quietness in the bar gets both of you to quiet down as well. frank has a moment to admire your beauty polished over you through the years. how a simple button-up t-shirt with jeans could look on you effortlessly. you’re doing the same to frank; drinking in his fashion sense that hasn’t changed but you don’t expect anything else other than the faded dark blue t-shirt and cargo pants. he’s still the same frank you come to love from years ago; the only difference now is that the two of you weren’t bound under the same institution. 

frank meets with your gaze with a small smile, his hand slowly approaching yours on the table. when he sees you don’t move away and instead turn your hand over, he gladly fills the spaces of it with his own. your eyes glance from your hands back to his eyes, he locks eye contact with you; refusing to look away. eyes that are usually bright, now dark; swimming with desire. it makes your heart swell, wondering what’s going on in that mind of his. yet you don’t need to guess when he lifts your hand up to his lips where he presses a soft kiss.

in absolute contrast with the way he kisses you the moment he has you against his truck. after giddily running out of ferg’s with your bag messily slinging over your shoulder and him half-dragging you towards the direction of his truck, his patience runs thin as he cups your chin with a hoarse can i kiss you? without missing a beat, you nod with a soft please and he desperately presses his lips to yours. it’s rushed and thrilling; adrenaline flushing through your veins as you feel the ruffle of his beard, the secure grip of his hand on your hip, the warmth of his tongue brushing against yours in delight. frank almost forgets he’s in public when you gently push him back by the shoulders with a shy smile, breathless as you look up to him. 

it’s a sight that grants him his last wish to die as a happy man: your swollen lips after he’s kissed them, parted to breathe. your eyes– dazed–hardly focusing on him with your hands lightly fliddling with the strands of his hair.

“usually, you’d have to buy me dinner first,” you have him wrapped around your finger, barely even trying and he’s hooked. “how ‘bout this saturday? mary’ll be at roberta’s,”

your smile mirrors frank’s, even more when he leans in to sneak in one more kiss that makes you sigh into his mouth. “sounds great,” you clear your throat, sneaking a hand away from his body to tap it onto the truck behind you, “drive me home?”

"how can i say no when you ask me like that?”

//

the drive back was calming, you humming the songs on the radio with frank accompanying you sparingly. his hand in yours, fingers interlocked. halfway your eyes spot an image slotted in his sun visor and it makes you smile. mainly because you remember that exact moment your friends tried to get a good picture of you and frank (well-aware of the hidden mutual feelings brewing you had for one another). it ultimately ends up with frank huffing in annoyance as you press a kiss to his cheek that somehow garners a small smile in the last second before the picture was taken. 

the same man is trying to follow where you’re looking at, only to have you chastise him to keep his eyes on the road. he complains that it’s not his fault you’re so distracting that he gives in with alright, alright! i’m gonna crash this truck if you don’t stop hitting me! 

when the truck comes to a stop, your brows furrow when you’re across the street from your home. blinking at your front porch, you turn to frank who grins, using his head to point over his shoulder to the house he parked at, ”figured it’d be easier to park in front of my place. an excuse to walk you to yours,”

the way your eyes widen in surprise as your hand clamps down on his makes frank laugh. it’s like you’re frozen in real-time, unmoving, not even blinking, jaw remaining unhinged. “lovie? you there?”

“...we’re neighbours?!” he lets you take a moment to let it sink in, the same time he stretches out to the back seat to retrieve your bag of belongings. he chuckles when you’re still silent, looking back and forth between your houses. it gives frank the time to get out from his side of the truck to open the door for you on your end. he looks down at you with a cheeky grin, “are you gonna stay in there all night? not that i have a problem with, but it’s gonna suck in the morning,”

you sneer at him as you step out of the truck. a hand ready to take your bag from him but he motions it to the side, grabbing your hand instead as he starts the walk towards your front door. all while you keep your eyes on him, feeling like this is a dream. a dream you don’t want to wake up from. when you reach the door, you give frank’s hand a shake and he frowns at you. it’s not until he processes that your keys are in the bag he’s holding captive that he passes it to you with a chuckle, “sorry, didn’t notice,”

“if you wanted me to go home with you, all you needed to do was ask,” you wink at him, lightly shaking your hand out of his hold to start fishing for your keys. when you’re a little occupied, you feel frank’s arms sliding around your waist, his chin hooked to your shoulder as his warm chest radiates against your back. your body tenses at the contact, which soon relaxes in his hold. you relish in the feeling before looking over your shoulder to catch a glimpse of a sad smile lingering on his face.

you can tell there’s something he has to say but he seems to reconsider. opting to offer you a kiss to the cheek instead before he lets you go. when you undo the locks, the door opens for you to step in. you then turn around to grab ahold of both his hands; directing his gaze there as he smiles at how your hands fit in his. almost perfect-fitting.

“f-frankie?” at your voice, frank looks up to you with sparks in his eyes, that waters down with worry. he feels his gut drop when you–“i... i’m sorry,” frank already anticipates the worst. that you’re seeing someone else for god knows how long, or you’re engaged, married–“a-about diane,” oh. oh... frank tries to look into your eyes when you lower your head, meekly fiddling with his hands that feel rougher than they used to but you love it because they’re his. 

"i heard what happened when b.u. held a tribute for her and... it must’ve been so difficult on your own and–”you could feel yourself rambling on and on, something that frank notices you haven’t changed in, making his heart go soft with endearment as he patiently waits for you to finish. “i just want you to know that you’re doing great,”

you build up the courage to look into his eyes this time, offering a small smile, “you always do, frankie,”

even though he knows you mean it, sincerity lacing your every word, he squeezes your hands, “i quit my full-time job as a professor to be a boat repairman who doesn’t even have health insurance,” he tilts his head down with his eyebrows slightly raised, “still think i’m doing great?”

“the best choice yet,” you sheepishly admit, with a smile that melts his heart, “how else was i supposed to meet you again?” 

when you bite your lip to stop yourself from smiling too much is when frank can’t resist the urge to pull you closer. he frees one of his hands from your hold to brush the hair from your face, then proceeding to pillow his hand against your cheek. he sighs at how you nuzzle into his touch, eyes fluttering shut when he presses his forehead onto yours. 

“how is it that i haven’t seen you in forever and it still feels like things haven’t changed?” he whispers, thumb stroking your cheek. “depends on what you’re talking about, frankie,” 

his eyes widen a bit, lips pursued. 

“i’m pretty sure position-wise and pay check-wise, it’s so much more different,”

he scoffs a laugh, scrunching his nose at you. it easily fades away when you continue to speak.

“but... what i feel for you, i don’t think they’ve gone away. even after you left boston, i...” you take in a breath, only to exhale shakily when the words you had intended to say don’t come out. your mind going black at the initial thought that frank notices the sadness pooling your eyes; feeling the thorns pricking his heart the more he thinks about how he left without a goodbye. how he managed all these years to block you out of his memory for the sake of giving you the peace you deserved, that he didn’t deserve you. he frowns, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, “‘m sorry i left without a word, lovie,”

“you had your reasons, i get it,” you quietly respond, resting towards his hand as he supports your head up, tilting your eyes to meet his. “you need to know that... if i saw you before i left,” he leans in, noses brushing, “i wouldn’t be able to leave,”

frank gulps at your silence, knowing that it’s a lot to take in for one night. he’s about to pull away but he remains still when one of your hands leave his to lap over the back of his hand. the curve of your smile setting everything straight back in his life: “what matters is we’re here now... and i’m excited to meet mary,” his heart rests easy at your words, more so when you mention: “plus, i’ve had a history of making the adlers’ fall in love with me,”

you watch as frank’s worried eyes disappear, replaced with the hint of affection that was always there for you. “you sure have a way of wiggling your way into the family,”

“even evelyn said i was good for you,” you tap his chest, “says a lot coming from her,”

he nods in agreement with a snort, “that’s one of the few times i’ll give her credit for,”

when the hilarity subsides, you’re doing all the things you don’t want to but have to. your hand peels the one he has on your face to lower it down, giving his hands a light shake. “i should probably head in now, i’ve got work tomorrow,” as much as frank doesn’t want to let you go, he does. reluctantly withdrawing from you after placing a kiss to your forehead. “goodnight lovie,”

“g’night, frankie,”

the door closes soon after that... only to reopen and frank’s turning around to see you taking two long strides before you put your arms around him to kiss him. he’s startled, but soon melts into your arms, strong hands anchoring you down and he tilts his head to deepen the kiss with a muzzled groan. your hands rake through his hair, whimpering at the way one of his hands sneak down into the back pockets of your jeans to give your ass a squeeze. to draw you closer, to feel you against him greedily, eliminating all space between your bodies. you feel him tensing when one of your hands run down his chest, sliding around his waist. then both of his hands come up to frame your face in his hands, lightly nudging you back to gather your breaths together with tired smiles.

"i thought you have work tomorrow?” he raises a brow, yet his tone gives away that he likes this just as much. “just... wanted to kiss you, that’s all,”

“always full of surprises,” frank murmurs, a thumb swiping on your bottom lip. you can feel your cheeks heating up at both the gesture and his words. what happens next is too quick for frank to comprehend: you lean forward to press a quick kiss to his lips before darting away from his arms. he only chuckles at the way you stumble past the door and wave a hand without looking back, the door shutting soon after.

frank walks back to his front porch and turns around to let his eyes stare at your door for a moment. he can’t quite wrap his head around all of this happening but when he stares long enough until it affirms to him it’s real.

a text chimes in his pocket before he’s able to go inside.

[is that how you greet all your new neighbours?] – roberta t. | 12:02AM

frank scoffs a laugh, typing away on his phone.

[no, just her] – frank a. | 12:03AM

roberta’s usually slow on her replies but now she’s faster than she could ever be.

[elaborate, frank. don’t let me catch her wanting to move away..] – roberta t. | 12:04AM

frank shakes his head, fingers swiftly structuring his reply and hits send. he lifts a hand up, knowing very well roberta’s looking. roberta shakes her head as she reads frank’s reply, muttering a soft well i’ll be damned.

[liked her since boston uni. still do now.] – frank a. | 12:06AM

roberta takes in her cup of warm water, enjoying a few more minutes of silence. until another ping from frank has her scoffing at his text... texts.

[could i get her number? :)] – frank a. | 12:10AM

[please?] – frank a. | 12:14AM

[i’ll even mow your lawn for the next two weeks.] – frank a. | 12:17AM

when roberta decides it’s enough tormenting, she decides to reply before heading to bed.

[you were too busy kissing her face off to ask, huh? – roberta t. | 12:20AM

[xxx-xxxx-xxxx] – roberta t. | 12:21AM

[mow the lawn tomorrow morning :)] – roberta t. | 12:21AM

//

saturday came around the corner quicker than you had imagined. initially, your mind conjured up a thought that saturday was far away but when you’re busy, boy does time sure fly. unpacking, starting a new job, adjusting to the environment; it’s a bumpy ride of figuring out what works and what doesn’t but that’s the exciting part of it all.

in between the days leading up to saturday, you managed to see frank throughout certain times. in the morning before you drove off, even waving at mary before leaving. him texting you randomly whenever he thought of you (you came to know that sneaky little thing got your new number from roberta). even leaving you packed food hanging on your door when you got home past dinner time. 

it was merely an hour before the agreed time to meet up with frank but a class seemed to overrun just a bit. frank had managed to enter the studio when he rang the bell and a colleague of yours answered. that allows him to stand outside the room where you were teaching a small class of teenagers who had their easels in front of them. he easily spots you going around one by one, brushing up on their techniques and encouraging them with words of praise. the glint of pride you have on your face, even though it’s not directed at him, makes him feel warm inside.

frank remains hidden as the class ends with the door opening and people start filing out. he takes a peek and sees you’re a little preoccupied with cleaning up that the knocking on the door doesn’t faze you in the slightest. you humming in response in effort to acknowledge whoever was there.

“i’m here for the art class,” he watches as you straighten your back and tilt your head to the side in confusion, visibly thinking. you turn around to politely respond with: ”sorry but we’re–”your mouth that was parted to continue speaking, stops. you ball up the rag in your hands and toss it at–”frankie! what’re you doing here?”

“is this how you treat all your potential students?” frank huffs, catching the cloth with ease. he chuckles at you poking your tongue at him, striding towards you and chucking the cloth aside to put his hands on your waist, luring you in for a hug that you give in almost too willingly. “usually, my students make a booking for a class beforehand,” you grumble, though your actions prove otherwise when your arms are already tight around him. inhaling the soft scent of sandalwood and oranges, smiling into his blue flannel overlay.

"aw, you must’ve forgotten then,” he leans back, smirking, “i already made a booking days ago.”

he doesn’t let you digest his words when he’s already ushering you out the door to follow him. you try to complain that your car is parked here but he waves it off and says he’ll drop you back to work on monday if you needed a ride. more reasons to be with you, he says as he straps your seatbelt and soon he’s taking off before you can object, giddily holding onto his hand as he drives you two to dinner. 

you can barely remember what happened prior when dinner went by in a flash. he brought you to a restaurant near the pier where the fairy lights and bokeh effect made it feel like a scene from a movie being out with frank. he remembers what you like, ordering it for you when you seemed uncertain of what to order. along the way, downing a few drinks because what would life be if you didn’t live a little and it’s a saturday.

the next thing you know, you’re trying to keep up with frank’s neediness to drag you into his humble abode. hands desperately touching you everywhere and his muffled words against your neck of how good you looked tonight. you retort to him that you probably have paint stained somewhere on your clothes and he suggests taking everything off. which, you would agree if you could even see where you were headed because you keep stepping into toys that make your feet hurt. he senses this and hoists you up in his arms, easily striding towards the bedroom as he carries you there.

he places you down and makes quick work to strip his shirt off, the same time you grip onto the hem of your sweater, dragging it over your head and tossing it to the floor. frank’s mouth waters at the sight as you giggle at him, beckoning him over with a finger. he mutters a soft fucking hell before pouncing on you, settling between your legs as he reconnects your lips together. your thighs welcome him, legs wrapped around his waist with one of your hands carding through his hair, the other running down his side to reach the line of his jeans.

you feel his arousal growing as he grinds down on you, earning himself a quiet moan that sends the shivers down his spine delightfully. he smirks when you whine at him, a hand miserably tugging at his jeans through one of the belt loops.

“someone’s a little impatient,” he lowly murmurs, moving his kisses down to your jaw and settling on your neck, sucking on a spot that makes you whimper. “i’ve been waiting years for this, frankie,” you muster up the words to the best of your ability, sneaking a hand past your bodies to palm his cock through the denim. he moans into your ear, sharply pulling back to undo his jeans, giving you time to do the same. when he’s just in his boxers, he pushes himself up from the bed to shove his clothes to the side. soon coming to aid you in stripping your pants off, leaving you in the matching lingerie set that has frank’s jaw dropping.

“i’m taking it as you like it?” 

he licks his lips, nodding as he crawls back onto you as if he’s enchanted. “love it,” he goes back to kissing your lips, capturing it between his own. his voice overlaps yours as you let out sounds of pleasure when he slides his hand past the lacy material of your panties, feeling the wetness coating his fingers as he strokes your slit with light movements, just teasingly brushing against your clit. it makes you eager to touch him and you go as far as rubbing him through his boxers, feeling him harden even more with his hips bucking into your palm.

you can feel yourself getting lost in pleasure, your airy moans intertwine with frank’s deep grunts; both bodies moving in sync and fit together perfectly after so many years of yearning and want. sifting through others who affirmed this is what you were missing; this was truly what you wanted. frank adler was the man your heart has been desperately begging for the longest time. these thoughts cloud your mind, making you draw back your hands from his body, directed to his face to push him back when everything felt overwhelming to comprehend.

immediately his face contorts into confusion and worry as he pulls his hand out from between your legs. he swallows thickly, gazing into your eyes, “s-sorry, too much?”

you shake your head as your eyes snap shut, unable to look at him as you take in deep breaths. despite the fact this is exactly what you wanted, you couldn’t seem to bring yourself to pull through. “don’t get me wrong, frankie. i want this so much,” your words soothe his erratic heartbeat, yet he still feels on edge, afraid he’s doing something wrong. he watches as you lick your lips, eyes opening past the trembling, “i’ve liked you for so long, wanted this for so long and... it’s happening once we reconnect after years of not seeing each other and i just–i don’t wanna ruin it by rushing into it,”

the silence is deafening as you hold your breath, unaware you had been until frank speaks. 

“...i’d be lying if i said i didn’t feel the same,” 

your hands move to rest by his shoulders as one of his hands rest on your waist, the other gripping onto your arm loosely, his thumb rubbing mindless shapes.

“i don’t wanna ruin this by rushing into it, either,” he gently rests his forehead on yours, noses lightly touching, “i’ve wanted to be with you for as long as i can remember and i wanna do this right,”

your heart feels at ease, the same as frank’s knowing the both of you were on the same page. yet, there’s a hint of awkwardness in the air considering the two of you are stripped down to nothing, only to agree not to have sex. you quietly laugh at the situation, frank following suit as his laugh drums against your ears.

“so what do we do now?” you ask, squeezing his shoulders.

“we could just... lay down together?” he suggests with a small smile, that grows wider when he knows what your answer is as you shift down to get comfortable. frank reaches over for the blanket, covering both of your bodies in warmth. his arms spread open for you to enter, snuggling into his chest as he presses a kiss to your head. your arms nimbly find their way around his torso as he tucks you in his arms, eyes closing in relief.

“i kinda like this more,” your words are muffled against his chest and frank likes the feeling. he leans back a little to look down on you looking up to him with a cheeky grin. “me too, lovie,”

a finger of yours starts stroking his chin, feeling his beard threading through your skin. your eyes trail from his jaw to his lips where your finger follows to outline. up to his nose, and then to his eyes where your fingertip drags across his forehead before you rest your palm against his cheek. his cheek follows your palm, comfortably leaning into your touch.

“i could definitely see myself living here if it means being with you,” frank’s eyes soften at your confession. that’s one of the many things he admired about you; being able to be open with your feelings, that seemed to flow naturally when you were around him. his heart swells at the sight of you dazedly falling into slumber in his arms. the act of your thumb caressing the under of his eye is slowly coming to a stop when your eyelids grow heavy. “even after so long, you still effortlessly make me feel like i’m worth loving,”

that sentence alone awakens you and frank’s eyes widen at the sight of yours flaring up at him. how fiery they’ve gotten in the timespan of a few seconds. you look like you’re about to square him up when you lean closer towards him, tipping your chin up, pressed to his chest as your words hit his lips. “don’t you go around saying that when i’m around,”

his raised brows lowers in amusement, exhaling the breath he sucked in, “guess that means you’ve got to stick around, then,” frank murmurs, craning his neck down to cover your lips with his; a soft and slow kiss that makes you feel all the emotions bubbling from within, exploding into mini-like fireworks. your heart is beating so fast, yet it’s calm. safe in frank’s arms, warm and comforting. just like what home feels like.

“don’t you worry, frankie,” you whisper, a promise lining your lips, “i‘m not going anywhere,”

“good,” the smile frank has on his face is different; relieved and reassured. the love brewing from within that stretches out on his face, “neither am i.”

((your tuesday afternoon class for two turns out to be a familiar face you never get tired of seeing, along with another you’ve been anticipating meeting. frank’s tense, unsure what mary will think of you and he gets her to greet you like any normal parent would. it makes you chuckle as you kneel to get to mary’s height, reaching out with a hand, “hi mary. i’m y/n. i’m a friend of frank’s–”said man clears his throat and you gaze up to him. his face expression shows that he probably gave mary a head’s up that you weren’t just a friend. with a sheepish smile, you correct yourself–”girlfriend. but i’ll be your art teacher for the day,”

both of mary’s brow raises as she stares at you, then back at frank, then back at you, jaw dropping, “you’re dating frank?”

you chuckle as she reaches out to shake your hand, in utmost disbelief.

“is that a bad thing?” you ask, letting go of her hand. she shrugs, eyeing you skeptically, “you’re pretty. almost too pretty...”

“what’s that supposed to mean?” frank nudges mary with a knee against her back, causing you to stifle a laugh threatening to surface. you’ve heard that mary could get sassy, but you weren’t expecting this level of sass. “and what are you laughing for?!” frank now squints his eyes at you.

mary leans forward, whispering into your ear, “do you mess with frank a lot?”

you scoff a laugh, whispering back: “too much. wanna throw paint at him after class?”

you lean back to watch as sparks fill her eyes, her nodding in excitement. rising up, you turn to look at her and hold your hand out, which mary hesitates at the kind gesture but soon reaches up with her smaller hand to put in yours. it makes you smile as you lead her to the room, leaving–”hey, this is real nice and all but what about me?”

“hush up and walk, you big baby,” you sing-song, a couple of steps away from him as you let mary walk into the room, advising her to get comfortable and take whichever seat she likes. she opts for the one near the window, already animatedly fascinated, touching all the paintbrushes and tubs of paint. not long after frank comes to the door, a hand on your waist as he leans in to press a kiss to your cheek with a grumble, “’m glad you two are getting along real fast, lovie,”

you tap his cheek softly, “you don’t sound too happy, frankie,” 

“frankie?” mary giggles at the nickname, her tilting her head at the pair of you by the door. “why frankie?”

frankie groans as moves away from you, lightly giving your thigh a squeeze before he walks into the room. you follow behind him, smiling at mary’s curious eyes over frank’s shoulders as you close the door behind you, “because frankie rhymes with cranky,”

mary claps her hands, like a tiny adorable seal: “i love it!”

“...this is a mistake. a big mistake.” frank mumbles as he takes a seat next to mary, burying his face in his hands. already he feels the incoming teases brewing from not one of the most important ladies in his life but two.))

#the hotel indigo writing challenge #maeras writing challenge #frank adler #frank adler fanfic #frank adler fics #frank adler x reader #frank adler x you #chris evans #chris evans fanfiction

[constancelaufeydottir]

𝐎𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐝

Pairing: Neighbour!Bucky x reader

Warnings: Mentions of knife, blood, cursing, murder, mention of cannibalism, dark!Bucky(?), major character death, slight smut, fluff.

Summary: Bucky set his eyes on his sweet and cute neighbour who had suffered from a loss recently, determined to make her his.

Word count: 4.3k

a/n: This is my entry for @ambrosiase hotel indigo writing challenge. It’s my first ever writing challenge, and I had a lot of fun writing this! Honestly, I'm really grateful for this challenge because it motivates me to finish this wip that has been sitting in the draft for too long. Thank you for this lovely challenge mae ♡♡

Not beta’d, all mistakes are my own. If you see any mistakes, do let me know!

Room ⥤ Modern muse

Room service ⥤ neighbour + criminal

“Oh that poor thing.”

Bucky whipped his head in the direction of the voice. It was Mrs. Lockwood, his neighbour on the right.

“Huh?” He didn’t mean to voice out his confusion, but his brain was somewhat short-circuited, barely able to function when his sight was filled with you, and you only.

“That sweet girl over there,” Mrs. Lockwood was referring to you, his sweet neighbour to the left he was staring at, before the old lady came interrupting.

He had been staring for 5, 10 minutes maybe? He swore he wasn’t a pervert, you were just a sight for sore eyes, the healer of the wounds in his soul.

“What about y/n?” He asked, curious to listen to what his neighbour would say about the other neighbour. Also, he was fairly new to the neighbourhood, having just moved in last month, he ought to catch up with the gossip.

“Her boyfriend went missing a few months back, poor girl was devastated. Police suspected it was murder, even suspected y/n!” The old lady shook her head, casting pitying glances at the oblivious girl in the sundress, bathing under the sun with a book in her hand. “She’s such a sweet girl, how could they have suspected her?”

Bucky glanced at you, heart racing when you caught him looking. You shyly waved at him, a small smile plastered on your face hiding the underlying sadness of the loss of your loved one. His hand felt clammy when he raised one of them to wave back, his usual flirty self vanished whenever you were involved in the equation.

“Boy, you are in love aren’t ya,” Mrs. Lockwood teased, “I say go for it. Our lovely y/n definitely needs some lovin’ after what she’d been through and young man, I think you are the right person.” Her eyes crinkled as she patted Bucky encouragingly on the shoulder, like a loving mother cheering up her son.

Bucky, who was usually composed, blushed furiously. That big brain of his still hadn’t regained its functions thus he found himself unable to stop Mrs. Lockwood when she hollered at you.

Clearly immersed in your book, you jumped a little when you heard your name being called.

“Y/n, this young man would love to take you out on a date, what d’ya say?” His eyes widened at the accusation, though it was true that he wanted to date you, he just needed time to gather the guts to ask you out.

He saw you put down your book, walking towards him and Mrs. Lockwood. You were a front yard away from him, shielding the harsh sunlight from your eyes with your hands while leaning onto the fence.

“I’d love to,” you had to speak louder, and Bucky loved your voice as he only heard it only a handful of times now, often you were shy and quiet when you saw him.

“U-uhm, how about Saturday then,” He stuttered like a teenage boy who first received a love letter, suddenly forgetting how to speak, speech lost in the sea of disbelief and excitement, and affection.

You said nothing, only nodding and smiling at him, flashing those pearly whites.

“Great. 6pm. I’ll pick you up,”

“See you soon, James.” He watched as you walked away, a teasing smile on your face before you disappeared into the door. Gosh how he loved the way his name sounded on your lips, and he’d give anything to hear it again, and again.

Saturday came too soon, Bucky was not prepared at all. Well, he had done the reservations for the restaurant he’d planned to bring you to tonight, ironed out the creases and wiped off the non-existent dust on the dress shirt he would be wearing, so why was he nervous?

5:50 pm.

Call him old-fashioned or whatever, he’d prefer early to late and would love to escort you to his car. He stood in front of your porch, palm sweating and if his metal arm could secrete sweats, he was pretty sure it would end up like its counterpart.

You opened the door as soon as he rapped his knuckles on the wooden door, seeming eagerly waiting for him as he was for you.

He took in your outfit, the moderately revealing dress he liked, the one he saw you undress from, through his window countless times.

If it was possible to fall into a deeper love, he would.

The date couldn’t possibly be better than he imagined, it was perfect. Everything was great; the atmosphere of the restaurant, the quality of the food, and most importantly, you.

You were shy at first but opened up fairly quickly, telling him stories about you, and vice versa. You sympathized with him when he told you how he got the metal arm, your fingers grazing the delicate and intricate loops and lines on the metal surface.

His fingers were woven into yours halfway into the dinner, the cool metal fingers of his absently caressing your knuckles as you shared the story about your family, who disappeared mysteriously, then your ex-boyfriend, who went missing 5 months ago, like your family.

It was hard, talking about missing loved ones. Bucky could tell, by the way your hand unconsciously tightened, the lingering sadness in your eyes as you mentioned how happy you were before him. The way your tears were brimming in your eyes, threatening to glide down your face, it wrenched his heart, seeing how broken you were. He would try to pick up every broken piece of you in a heartbeat, mending them back together, fixing you until you were happy again if you would let him in.

He was kind of glad your ex-boyfriend was out of the picture, though it was a selfish thing to say. He desperately wanted to claim you, wanted to be your last and only boyfriend.

He’d been going on dates with you for a few months now. You were perfect, almost too perfect if he would say. You were practically his dream girl, so kind and generous. So sweet and loving. Pretty much everybody in this neighbourhood would agree with him and he sometimes wondered if he really deserved you. A beauty mingling with a beast. No one would ever want to see that, after all, even the beast turned into a handsome prince at the end of the fairytale.

Bucky wondered, if you found out what he did every night after you were asleep or what he took from your closet when you were away, would you still want him? If you found out the beast within him, would you still love him the same?

His thoughts were occupied and it wasn’t until the sharp pain in his fingers that he snapped out of his trance.

“Fuck!” You heard him cursing and went to him, gasping when you saw the streams of blood flowing from the deep cut from two of his fingers.

Hastily reaching out for the clean cloth from one of the drawers, you placed it over the wound, applying pressure on them.

The red quickly seeped through the pristine white cloth, two colours clashing as the red engulfed the white.

Bucky noticed you wincing at the red, gulping at the sight, head slightly turned away. It was obvious you were uncomfortable at the sight of blood, so he took the cloth himself and nudged you to wash the faint hint of blood on your palms.

“Sorry, now you might have to do this alone,” Bucky gestured at the ingredients on the counter, “and sorry for the cloth, blood stains are quite hard to get rid off.”

“Don’t you worry, a little hydrogen peroxide and the cloth will be as good as new,” Bucky let you tend to his wounds and pushed him towards the living room where he would sit at the couch for the next hour while you were busy at the kitchen preparing dinner.

While he was in the living room, he took in the interior of your house. He never got to take a close look, as he always had to sneak in when it was dark. The beige colour walls, cream coloured furnitures, books arranged perfectly on the floating shelves. The pictures and art hung on the clean walls, not one of them is crooked. The square coffee table with only the remote and a display plant on it, and when he shifted himself to sit at the center of the couch, did he realize the coffee table was lined up perfectly in the middle of the TV and the couch.

Bucky’s eyebrows raised, he didn’t depict you as a meticulous person. No wait, whenever he went out with you, you’d arrange the plates to sit between the utensils perfectly. When you get boba, the straws must precisely be in the center of the cup, and if you missed it, your eyebrows would furrow in annoyance subconsciously.

His eyes wandered over to your figure in the kitchen and was not surprised to find you wiping and hanging the cutting board on the ceramic wall, adjusting it with your fingers so it wouldn’t be crooked while waiting for the stew to simmer.

You caught him looking at you and threw a smile at him in which he reciprocated, then continued to let his eyes wander through your living room. This could easily be an IKEA showroom, he thought.

Another week went by, Bucky found himself more and more in love with you, if that was possible in the first place as if he didn’t already dedicate all the space in his heart for you.

You were both in the kitchen again. This time however, he was busy mixing the sugar, flour, and cocoa powder mixture, with you snuggling behind him, arms circling his waist as you watched him do the magic.

He felt sorry for not helping last time so he was making up to you by baking some brownies.

As you both were cleaning up, brownies baking in the oven, Bucky turned to you.

“Hey, I never asked, but what do you do for a living?” He questioned nonchalantly while wiping the huge plastic bowl.

The wet spatula fell from your grip, dropping into the sink of water, droplets of soapy liquid flecked on your shirt.

“O-oh, i’m an artist!” You let out a laugh to conceal your flustered state, “Aspiring artist to be exact.”

“An artist,” he hummed, as if chewing onto the meaning of the word, “could you show me your works?”

Your head whipped towards his direction, mouth parted in surprise. Nobody has ever appreciated your dream. Your family, your friends, your ex-boyfriends, all of them claimed that being an artist would lead you to being unsuccessful, and you deemed to prove them wrong.

“Yes, yes, of course,” you were overjoyed. Abandoning the half-washed utensils, you clasped your hand around his wrist and dragged him to follow you towards the second floor, into a room hidden behind another beige coloured door, where you kept all your works.

Rows of headless mannequins clothed in white dresses painted with red blossoms appeared before him as you pushed open the door.

He was utterly mesmerized. He trailed his gaze across the display, a smile painted his lips as he deduced that every piece of them was unique. No two dresses had the same pattern.

Some had plain red blossoms splattered on it, some had dark red waves littering on the bottom hem; some with brush strokes of red. There was also a different tone of red, bright and dark or somewhat in between.

“Wow, this is just … amazing!” He found himself at a loss for words, “are those blood?”

“Yes, they are.”

“I thought you don’t like blood?” Bucky teased.

“These are animal blood. I’m fine with it as long as it’s not coming out from a human,” you retorted.

He chuckled. Once again admiring the intricate patterns of your works, marvelling at how talented and perfect you were. His heart sank at the thought of the question he frequently found himself asking, how can someone so perfect like you end up with someone less than perfect like him.

You apparently noticed his changed demeanor as you inched yourself closer to pull him into an embrace, placing your chin on his chest, eyes searching for his sad blue ones.

“Are you okay?” He hugged you tighter, sighing.

“I’m fine. I just … I think you’re perfect and you’re everything I've ever wanted. But I'm not sure if I'm perfect enough for you.”

“Oh James, you’re more than enough. I assure you, you’re everything I’ve ever wanted too.”

Bucky felt like his heart was filled to the brim with adoration, butterflies erupted from his stomach. Your assurance was everything to him, keeping his wandering soul anchored and he was grateful for it, grateful for your existence. The more the reason to cage you by his side so you couldn’t ever leave him.

His lips were on yours the next second, his grip on your waist tightened as you deepened the kiss, tongue finding his; busy hands sliding from his stomach to his shoulder.

Both of you were drowning in this ecstasy, unwilling to part away from each other’s touch.

The loud ding of the oven startled the both of you. Momentarily parting from each other, you stared at him with a heated glance. His eyes were hooded, filled with lust, desire.

“Fuck the brownies,” you whispered, molding your soft lips on him once again, the hunger for each other far greater than the stupid brownies, “need you now.”

Bucky didn’t need to be told twice, large hands cupping your bottom as you hopped and hooked your legs behind him, arms instinctively went to his shoulders for support.

He brought the both of you to your room, the one he was all too familiar with, the one with the same cream coloured theme which could definitely pass as another IKEA showroom judging by how perfect the layout was.

The only odd thing that stood out in this far too perfect room was the trail of scratch marks extending from the door frame to the wall outside of the room.

The deep scratch marks were somehow etched deep in his brain, he couldn’t let it go. It felt as if there was a dot of blank ink on a piece of white paper, and even though there was more white than black, you’d only be fixated on the dot of black.

He would ask you about the haunting marks on the wall and your fingers that were tracing patterns on his skin would falter, you’d give him the warm smile he loved while brushing it off saying it was the huge Dobermann your aunt owned which did that.

Even when he was balls deep in you, the vivid image of the scratch marks were there in his head, though you were quick to draw back his attention with a grind on his hips, both of your bodies covered with sheen of perspiration. Strands of your hair sticking to your body, but you pay no care to them as you rocked your hips, chanting his name over and over again like a mantra, like a prayer.

His eyes were on your fucked out state, his grip on you like steel. The cool surface of his metal arm contrasted with your hot flushed body as you chase your high like a traveller chasing the oasis in a desert, desperate for a quench of thirst.

Even when he was chasing the same high, vision blinding with bliss, the marks were still there and this time they were accompanied by the white dresses painted with red, and red only.

Bucky was always a doubtful person. Doubting every single decision he’d ever made. Doubting himself, doubting others. But there was one thing he was certain of, there was something less than innocent lurking underneath your skin. Of course, he was still head over heels for you but he was pretty adamant to find out the sinister in you, hoping it would answer his questions, mainly the recurring image of a certain mark.

Bucky was a lot of things, dumbass , dork, clumsy(per sam), but he was not stupid. Hell, he was far from stupid. Those scratch marks, definitely not the Dobermann.

You were a perfectionist, you couldn’t possibly leave the mark there and acted like nothing happened in the first place. He’d imagine if it was the dog, you’d probably have someone fix the dent the same day, unwilling to allow even a speck of blemish in your flawless house.

Bucky was a lot of things, and being a dumbass was definitely one of them as he was showing up on your porch in the evening unannounced.

He’d considered sneaking in like he used to do but he knew, he saw that you were still in the house. He couldn’t and wouldn’t jeopardize your relationship with him knowing he’d get caught.

He knocked on your door, hearing footsteps paddling, rushing to him.

As you opened the door, your eyes widened at the sight of an awkward Bucky. Although you were quick to throw him an unalarming smile, he still caught the nervousness in you.

There was something off with you. The disheveled hair, thin layer of sweat adorning the crown of your head, unknown wet liquid staining your shirt.

He caught a whiff of the strong smell of chemicals wafting through the door, it smelled a lot like bleach.

“I’m sorry,” he scratched at the back of his neck, “is this not a good time?”

“It’s fine, come on in.”

The smell of bleach invaded his nose the moment he stepped into your house, flooding and overwhelming his senses causing him to wince.

“Were you deep cleaning?”

“Yeah, I accidentally spilled some of the animal blood this morning. Had to use hell lots of hydrogen peroxide to get rid of them. Sorry for the smell.”

“No no, it’s okay. Let me just open the windows and door, okay?” He was getting a little light-headed now, desperately needing some fresh air. “Doll, you need to ventilate every time you use bleach, it’s harmful for your health to inhale all these fumes.”

You blushed at the term of endearment, yet wanting to blame him for not calling you that earlier.

He went over to open the windows, sighing contentedly at the waves of fresh air hitting his face as the wind blew in.

He felt your arms snaking around him, head leaning against his broad back.

“I love you, James. Wouldn’t know what to do without you.”

“I love you too.” He turned around and hugged you, his chin propped on your head, not knowing you had a solemn expression on your face.

He’d spent the evening with you, watching TV on the couch with you in his lap. It was so mundane yet he’d never got bored of this, wanting to do this with you for the rest of his life.

Outside the window, the orange and yellow sky faded into darkness.

“Let’s order take out, how about Thai food?”

“I’ll cook,” you kissed him on the lips and got up from his lap before he could reply anything.

“Ok, you need help?” He heard a faint ‘no, it’s fine’ coming out of the kitchen followed by the clanking of pots and utensils.

His neck stretched to peek at your figure in the kitchen, too busy chopping up ingredients to notice he was no longer at the living room.

He made his way down the basement, where the pungent smell of the bleach was still lingering.

The wood creaked as he stepped on the stairs, announcing his arrival to the darkness surrounding the basement. The soft glow of light illuminated the large space, a wall of tins stacking on each other revealed to him. A few easels of different sizes were propped on the wall with several grey aprons hanging beside them.

He walked closer to examine the insane amount of tins. A small label that said Pig blood was stickered on the body of the white tin.

His eyebrows scrunched up in confusion. Do people really sell animal blood in metal tins, wouldn’t they go bad?

There were loads of questions in Bucky’s head, questions with answers only you could provide.

He noticed a chest freezer sitting in the corner of the basement and his legs brought him to it before he came to realize. The whole basement was so quiet he could hear the soft ringing in his ears, the racing of his heartbeat amplified as his hand inched towards the lid.

There was nothing in the freezer, to his surprise.

The empty freezer stared back at him, as if mocking his fruitless attempt. He was relieved, or disappointed, he couldn’t tell the difference and there was no point in distinguishing them now since you had nothing to hide. He wasn’t even sure what he was expecting to find in the freezer.

“Babe?” You stood behind him with an apron on, a knife in your hand, a second after he closed the door to the basement.

He leaned against the door frame, hand went to his head, eyes squeezed shut as he pretended he was having a headache.

“Felt dizzy all of a sudden, I was just making my way to the bathroom.”

“Oh, okay. I was just about to tell you dinner's almost ready,” a tooth-rotting smile was plastered on your face.

“I’ll be there in a minute,” he watched as you walked away, letting out the breath he’d been holding. His palm was clammy, heart beating rapidly.

“I love you,” You placed your hand on his arm, eyes meeting his.

“I know, doll. I love you too.”

This was seconds before dinner.

“James, I love you.” You whispered, watching him giving you a grin before he stuffed the meatball into his mouth.

“Wow, I'm so loved today. It’s the secon- no, third time you’ve said ‘I love you’ to me today.” He grinned, heart bursting with love. “You know I love you too.”

This was mid-dinner.

“I love you so much, James.”

Bucky was getting suspicious of you. Were you hiding something, perhaps cheating on him? For there were no reasons for you to keep telling him you loved him even though he knew how much you loved him and vice versa.

“I love you,” you kissed his knuckles, “this might be the last time I get to say I love you, James.”

His eyebrows furrowed at your statement, mouth parting to question what you meant. Before he could voice out something, the world faded into nothingness.

A thin film of blurriness clouded his eyes when he opened them, Bucky had this feeling like he was drowning in a swamp and his whole body was bound.

Blinking furiously, he regained his vision. You were sitting on a chair leaning forwards while looking at him endearingly, your elbows propped on your knees, palms supporting your chin.

“Hello, my love,” you were smiling oh so sweetly. The same smile that got him mesmerized and head over heels, except this time he didn’t feel the warm fuzzy feeling exploding in his chest, this time it was the goosebumps crawling on his arms and the chill creeping up his spine.

Now everything made sense, every single of his questions was answered.

You looked down at his body, the one that was once full of life, full of love. You watched as his glassy blue eyes etched with fear quickly reduced into this grey lifeless orbs, still pretty but lacking the element of a beautiful soul.

You weep for him, mourn for him. Mourning the short duration of love shared between the both of you. Mourning for yourself, for falling too hard. Mourning for him who kept you always in his heart.

To be honest, you were a little hesitant to end his life, he was better than the last one. He was perfect, warm, kind, loving, gentle, but not perfect enough. He simply did not reach your expectations, and you, could not bear imperfections, even the slightest. The answer to his downfall was pretty easy, he was too close to the ugly truth. And despite you knowing his love for you outweighs his doubt and fear in you, you simply couldn’t risk it.

Your love for perfection exceeds your love for him.

The melodious music of your ringtone echoed in the ample space of the basement, you brought up your phone to your ears as you answered the call.

“Mrs. Lockwood? Yes. Of course. I did. No no no, I’ll do it for you this time. He would definitely taste delicious I assure you.”

Time to get to work, you sighed as you stood there with a white dress splattered with blood. How artistic, you thought.

You always loved this part of the process, you’d wear the whitest piece of dress you own whenever you work with your projects.

You loved how the blood peppered your clothes, forming blossoms of dark red flowers on the fabric.

You kept every single piece of them, because no two are the same. Every one of them tells a story, of men and women who loved you and who you loved, of those who were once a body with a soul.

Wiping away the tears rolling down your cheeks, you gave Bucky one last loving look and the blade of your butcher knife came in contact with his once pink but now pale skin as you hummed, the sound bouncing off the walls of the basement, forming echoes.

A few blocks away, a baby cried, body covered in mucus. The tiny infant cried, each time louder than the previous, wailing his lungs out, as if mourning. For one soul born, another reaped.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky imagine #bucky barnes #bucky x y/n #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes x you #james bucky barnes #neighbour bucky #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes fic #the hotel indigo writing challenge #maeras writing challenge

[starbuckie]

𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐟𝐥𝐚𝐠𝐬 𝐮𝐩

challenge: the hotel indigo by @ambrosiase

prompt: room-modern muse, room service-business meets pleasure

pairing: campcounselor!bucky x reader

words: 5.8k words

warnings: SMUT 18+ (oral m, bucky’s lowkey a lil subby in this), grumpy!bucky, being emotionally stunted, fluff, friends to lovers, pining, two idiots deliriously in love, tw children, and summer camp shit

summary: the three stages of bucky’s realization of love for his best friend and the one time he gets the girl.

a/n: *giggles in this was purely self-indulgement as a camp counselor myself* but in all reallness mae, i really hope you enjoy this piece, because i know i adored writing for this challenge. the hotel indigo was such a pleasure to stay at and write for. this au, once again, is super duper indulgent of me, but i found that it fit into my choices and i’m very proud of it. congratulations on your amazingly takented brain of yours, maera, and once again thank you for this oppurtunity. please enjoy <3

main masterlist || sebastian stan characters masterlist

“Alright, campers, I need everyone to make a straight line in front of me!” Y/N yelled. A young girl, around six years old, clung to her hand like a lifeline, drying tears on her cheeks and a small teddy in her free arm. She had just tripped and fallen down on the wood chips by the tire swing and when she started to cry, Bucky suggested that it was time to pack up and head back to the cabins. “We are going to grab our hats, snacks, sunscreens, and water bottles, pack them in our day bags, and walk back to the grounds. I’m giving everyone ten seconds, nine seconds…”

Bucky watched as his best friend shouted for the children with a huge smile on her face. She’d always been a natural with them, even when they were that young. The kids adored her to no end, viewing her as an older sister because they were so fucking pathetic that they couldn’t go a few weeks with a guiding figure in their lives (“Bucky, that’s being mean, they’re just little kids”). Being a camp counselor wasn’t his ideal summer job, but he was in college and nearly broke, and hey, Camp Indigo didn’t pay half bad. He also had a group of his closest friends working with him, so he couldn’t complain either. Many had it worse.

Quiet mumbling surrounded him from where he sat on a tree stump, a group of young boys chattering amongst themselves and completely ignoring Y/N. He could let them keep fooling around and be the laid-back counselor they all loved, or he could actually help his best friend out, as she was tiredly trying to get the small kids into a single file line with a completely fake smile on her face. He chose the latter. 

With a gentle sigh, Bucky pushed himself off the wood, gently thwacking a few of the boys on the head with his water bottle as they shouted in protest. “C’mon guys, help a guy out. Y/N is gonna beat my ass if I don’t help her out soon enough and I really wanna live long enough to get a s'more at campfire on Friday.”

The group giggled as they ran past their counselor, sure enough going to repeat what Bucky had told them to his partner in crime. One kid tugged on her sleeve, pulling her down to their height and from the way that she squinted her eyes and stuck her tongue out at him, he could tell what the little one had told her. 

“Damn right, I’m gonna kick your ass, Buck.” Y/N grinned. She skipped past him with a sloppy kiss to the cheek, and she walked away before she could notice the wildfire of a blush that covered his cheeks and nose. He completely stopped his movements and turned to watch her grab the youngest kids with a dumbstruck smile on his face. When did he start doing that?

Y/N was affectionate. More so with him than with Sam or Steve or even Natasha, one of closest friends from birth. Since the third grade when she’d offered him a book on constellations, she’d always given him a peck or two on the cheek or a bone-crushing hug, because it was part of the L/N Friendship-For-Life guarantee. Not once could he remember feeling so blushy when she did anything of that sort, and it scared him. 

So he studied her. Really studied her. Not how they did with the kids, observing the veins in leaves and the birds in the high redwood trees, but taking his time, each quick second, to see what it was about her that really made his skin heat up under her touch.

The scene was set. Her chin was raised defiantly as she looked over their campers. A subtle wink was thrown his way before she turned around and started leading them away. Three backpacks were wrapped around her shoulder and a flannel was tied around her waist, and while it was a very unflattering look, in all honesty, he couldn’t look away from her body. 

And then he watched how her hips swayed as she walked, the curve of her ass in those tight, really goddamn tight leggings. Now that was definitely a bit more than platonic.

He had to snap himself out of, well, whatever that revelation he had was. 

Because it was Y/N. Y/N who had patched him up after fights during lunch when he got bloody noses, and who had given him some of those as well. She’d stuck with him through shitty high school relationships and he’d offered her a place to stay when her house gave her too much to think about. There was a simple peck on the lips, once, maybe twice throughout their college years, and absolutely nothing more. 

Still, Bucky worried if he was holding back. From his emotions, what he “really felt”, he found that he never was really capable of communicating nor expressing his feelings efficiently. Y/N did always say he had a problem with that. She was always able to read his mind.

He trusted her with his life more than he did himself. She was his confidant, his number one supporter and safe haven, not someone he was supposed to fall in love with. It had to be against the best friend code, or whatever shitty book teens made up about their bond, that they, under no circumstances, could be together. It would ruin their friendship in its entirety and then Bucky would have to become best friends with Sam. Or maybe it was just his stupid brain talking.

Stupid fucking emotionless dumbfuck brain.

“Barnes!” Y/N’s cheery, fake-serious yell caught him off guard, and he stumbled back when the sound reached his ears. There was a whole line of campers giggling at his dumb expression and agape mouth and when he looked up, he saw how his best friend was laughing too. He missed it a lot at university, but during the summers he got to witness her genuine smiles when the world wasn’t weighing on her shoulders.

Just a glimpse of her upturned lips had the breath knocked out of his lungs.

Maybe he liked her romantically. Just a bit. But he would never tell her even if he did.

“‘M gonna shove you in the lake if you don’t start walking.”

Truly a woman after his own heart.

-

The first thing one has to be prepared for before going to a sleepaway camp is the mosquitoes. The little bugs are always around, popping up at the most inconvenient times, nearly undiscovered. You can barely feel them, but then they suck out your blood, your soul, every piece of silence you once had, your will to live-

Wait no, that’s children. Gross, annoying, disgusting children.

Speaking of the bratty, dirty little things, Bucky had one sat perched on his lap against the fence of the pool area, a sweat towel slung across the back of his neck. It was hot. The temperature had to have been at least above a solid ninety-five, and out in nature, there were no fans. The little boy had been crying because he was afraid of the water in the pool, and the grumpy camp counselor allowed the snotty kid to sit in his lap as he calmed down and while he waited for Y/N to finish changing so they could go in the water. 

Other campers splashed around and screamed in the water and Sam, who had lifeguard duty for the day, watched over them with a wide grin. Unlike Bucky, he let the kids know he enjoyed his job, always playing along with them and engaging in conversation. But Wilson did make it look easy. 

The tired brunette sighed and adjusted his swim trunks, the khaki-looking ones with waterproof pockets that were getting a bit too small from the way it hugged his thighs a little tightly. He grabbed his water bottle, taking a swig from the low-running- ew, warm water. It wasn’t a lot, but it was all he had left. The humid, muggy weather just made for even more exhaustion and fuck, Bucky really just wanted to get in the pool, what the hell was taking his best friend so long-

“Bucky, are you and Y/N boyfriend and girlfriend?” 

Bucky choked on his water. The kid, Cason, his eyes were filled with confusion and hundreds upon millions of questions that needed to be answered. His seemingly harmless probing had a lot more effect on the blue-eyed brunette he was sitting on. 

That same blush that appeared whenever Y/N was brought up spread across his face, dusting the freckles on the tip of his nose and blending into his sunkissed cheekbones. “Uh, no, she and I are just friends,” he reassured. But he wasn’t even sure of that anymore. “Very good friends. The best even. Since we were in elementary school, just like you! You’re going into what- second grade? First?”

His attempt at changing the topic was absolutely fruitless. 

“You guys are like my mommy and daddy,” Bucky tried very hard to not roll his eyes as the little kid continued to blubber on. “They said they were high school sweethearts and did you know t-that they have known each other since they were babies? Like you and Y/N. You guys are best friends and you love each other a lot!” Then, the brightest and most hopeful look came into Cason’s eye as he gave a little gasp (which Bucky refused to admit was kinda adorable). “Will you guys get married-”

“What are you boys talking about?” Y/N sauntered out from the girls changing area, donning what had to be the goddamn skimpiest bathing suit he’d ever seen her wear. It was a one-piece, per camp “modesty” rules, but it dipped low between her breasts and in the back, showcasing the dip of her spine. Navy blue and everything he could have ever wanted, he had to keep his jaw from dropping straight to the concrete. Sweat dripped between the valley of her tits and down her sternum, and all Bucky could do was gulp back the millions of questions he had, such as when she suddenly became so appealing to him. Her hair was pulled away from her face, probably easier to swim that way, but to him, it just showed more skin that he was dying to get a taste of. A towel was draped in the crook of her arm, her hip popped out just a bit and she was the sexiest thing Bucky had ever seen.

Even the sun came out to frame her body, rays of light popping out from behind her like she was an angel. From behind Sam wolf-whistled at her for some fun, but seeing as he could barely register that he was ignoring the kid speaking to him in his lap, he barely heard his friend either. 

No, he was not attracted to his best friend. Not romantically, not sexually, Bucky wanted anything but to have her mouth around his cock or squeezed right between those sweet tits of hers. Oh, God, the mere thought of kissing her made him woozy. 

“N-nothing,” Bucky stammered out. Y/N reached her arms out towards Cason and leaned down- shit, did she really have to do that then? He could see straight down her suit and he was having trouble breathing right already. “Do you wanna go?”

She took his hand in hers, her ice-cold hand chilling his warm one, and started walking to the submerged stairs with a little kid on her hip. Cason looked more than thrilled to be walking with two of the most popular counselors. As campers in the pool marveled at the way Y/N carried the kid so effortlessly, he saw the older ones staring at her a little bit differently. Were they literal fifteen-year-olds? Yes. Was Bucky a possessive man?

Well, were there twenty-four hours in a day?

At her touch, goosebumps, fucking goosebumps in ninety-degree weather, spread across his skin and he could feel each individual hair raise across it too. There was no better feeling than their skin-to-skin contact, her dragging him along the hot concrete path. He could practically feel Steve and Nat’s smirk on the back of his neck from a mile away. He could hear their voices in his ear, the she’s the fuckin’ one, Buck, and the I’m glad you’re finally realizing it now because his heart was pounding harder and louder than it ever had before and the fact that he finally knew terrified him. 

Bucky let himself weigh out what loving Y/N really meant. On one side, he knew he had found the one. If he had to choose someone to pick out from a crowd to be the one, his one, he knew it’d be her. Maybe it had taken him an odd thirteen or so years to figure that out, but he wasn’t complaining anymore. She was the one who had given him nothing but endless affection and adoration from the moment they met, spilling nothing but sweet words in his ears, and at that point he knew that she was his soulmate. She was on the forefront of his mind always, even when he didn’t want to admit it to himself. 

But on the contrary, loving her could also end with his heart trampled over and laying in a ditch. Just thinking about the sheer possibility of her not loving him back, the harsh I’m sorry, I just don’t feel that way for you had his mind screeching at a halt. What if he lost everything he had ever known with just a few simple words? No, he couldn’t bear the ache that’d be left in his heart. 

So, he bore the ache of the love he had for her instead. By taking the kid off her hip, picking him up, and throwing him in the pool. By pushing her in the water, listening to her giggles and squeals, and clutching those sounds close to his chest. His chest hurt, it hurt a lot, but then his ankle was being pulled and his body was submerged in freezing chlorine water. Arms wrapped around his midsection and he found his way to the surface. Met by Y/N’s face, her features highlighted with a sheen of water, her smile a mile wide because she was with him. 

He had barely noticed, but she always smiled more when she was with him, and he did the same too. 

-

A drop of blood rolled down Y/N’s finger as she scowled at the offending object, a pointy roasting stick. A bit of marshmallow stuck to the metal but the rest of the sugary treat had hit the dirt floor, tanbark and bugs already covering it. It was a goddamn travesty- she had roasted the marshmallow to perfection, sticking it in the fire and watching it burn until she was able to remove the burnt crust and eat the gooey insides.

But instead, her perfect, glorious marshmallow had fallen to the ground when she tried to stick it between two graham crackers, and she was beyond devastated.

When she was done groveling over the poor thing, she brought her eyes up to where Bucky stood, leaning against Steve. By the looks of it, he was begging the blonde counselor for a marshmallow, waving around with the stick at Steve’s annoyed face. He mouthed something to the brunette that made him stop and shoved a marshmallow in his hand and he cheered. 

“Y/N, sweetheart, look!” He yelled across the campfire. She met his eyes, squinting a bit because of the smoke. “Steve gave me a marshmallow!”

A literal child. “Good job, Buck, I’m real happy for you.” With a sweet smile, he made his way back to his best friend, scooching next to her on the cut-down log with a peck to her cheek. She sunk into his body, resting her head on his shoulder when he noticed her more somber tone.

“Darlin’?” She hummed. “You okay? You’re supposed to be the excited one here, sweetheart.”

She over-exaggerated her pout and stuck her finger out to show him where she was bleeding (and barely so). “I tried to make my s’more and the mean stick poked me, an’ now look at me! I’m bleeding! I’ve been violated by a stupid piece of metal.”

Bucky chuckled at her infuriated tone, his eyes dropping a bit lower from her eyes to stare at her pouty lips. She had mastered the bratty, upset look over the years and he knew exactly what she wanted. “Y’want me to kiss it better, sweetheart?”

She nodded with a suddenly widened smile, offering the poor, damaged finger to his lips. He couldn’t help his own from curling the same way and grabbed her hand, leaving a simple kiss to the inside of her wrist, trailing those sinful, invisible marks up her palm and to her finger. Her breath hitched in her throat. Her eyes glazed over as they followed his own, deep azure eyes tracing every centimeter of skin his lips did. Everywhere he touched lit Y/N’s skin on fire, a burning, passionate kind of blaze that really sent her heart lurching violently in her chest.

When he let go of her finger, there wasn’t much to say. Bucky could see the tenseness of her body; her shoulders weren’t slumped like usual and she had an abnormally good posture. It wasn’t her and he knew that. But he also saw the smaller details. How her breath had seemed to catch in her throat and those tiny, tiny whimpers she let out. He hadn’t missed those either. 

His eyes lingered on hers a bit and there was more than enough tension filling the small space between them. His eyes dropped to her lips, firelight flickering across the supple skin that he needed to taste so bad. “Do you feel better now, sweetheart?”

Those words seemed to knock Y/N out of whatever daze she was having. She blinked twice stupidly before answering with a grin as sweet as the marshmallow on his tongue. “Yeah, Buck, I feel just fine.”

“In that case,” he nudged her hand with the marshmallow he’d gotten from Steve, opening her palm and placing the treat inside, “go make yourself another one but do not burn your tongue again like last week.”

She rolled her eyes at his warning, dropping a kiss to his cheek before running off to the smoking fire pit. “You could've told me that the underside of the marshmallow was still on fire that time, Buck, my burnt tongue was your fault.”

He jokingly scoffed and she brushed it off with a giggle, kneeling down with her hands and feet in a triangle, just like their training had taught her. A hand clapped his back, a little bit harshly, and he knew it was Y/N’s other best friend. “Hey, Nat, it’s a lovely night. What brings you over to my little, lonesome corner of the fire circle?”

“Hardly lonesome with that one around,” Natasha retorted. Her perfectly manicured finger pointed over to their best friend, who at the moment, was trying to blow out her flaming marshmallow as Steve helped in a hurry. “She's in love with you too, y’know, we’ve all been waiting this whole summer for you to realize it.”

Bucky’s eyes followed her finger, and with a fond smile at the scene, he responded. “Nat, I think I finally did.”

“Atta boy,” she hit his back once more before scurrying off to Wanda and Sam, right after whispering a few parting words. “I know you’ll take good care of her, Bucky, you always do.”

If he hadn’t been such a fucking coward, he could’ve been kissing Y/N for years. Throughout high school, throughout the first two shitty years of college, he could’ve had her, not just as a best friend but as his one and only. 

I am such a fucking idiot.

“I know you are, Buck, but what’d you do this time?” Y/N questioned. Oh shit, he’d spoken aloud.

He had to keep himself from jumping back and falling off the log, barely having registered she’d come back. In her hand, she held her arch-enemy, the roasting stick, and a really good-looking s’more in the other. 

“Nothin’, nothin’,” Bucky assured her. “You got your s’more already? No pokes and injuries? No more fingers that need to be kissed?”

“Nope,” she smiled and offered him the treat. “You wanna bite before I demolish it?”

He chuckled and nodded, leaning forward to bite half of the s’more out of her hand. It was really good. The sticky marshmallow insides really did make it all better. “Never thought I’d live to see the day that Y/N L/N shared her food with me,” he commented through chewing.

She slumped down next to him on the log again, resting her head against him as she finished the s’more. “Yeah, yeah, don’t get used to it, Buck, it’s gonna be another ten years 'till I get kind enough to do it again.”

They both shared a laugh as treacly warm as the s’more they had just eaten. Her arm had snuck its way around his, intertwining his metal hand with her warm flesh one. She played with the bands of gold that shined against the light and she was smiling up at him and laying her head on his shoulder and suddenly the words I love you didn’t seem so scary anymore. They seemed to creep their way up his throat, laying on the tip of his tongue and ready to jump out at the girl sitting next to him. Nothing seemed scary when all he could see was his future flickering back into his eyes. 

And that was the moment James Barnes accepted his love for Y/N L/N. By a campfire pit, gooey marshmallow sweet on his lips, he didn’t know why he had been so scared of his love for her before. He was done denying it. Thirteen years of lost words and unsaid feelings gave him strength, and he tightened his hold on her hand before speaking. 

“I love you, Y/N.”

-

Bucky and Y/N. Y/N and Bucky. Best friends since the third grade, lovers since a little over an hour before time found them making out against the front wall of Bucky’s cabin. Shoes and socks kicked off, of course.

The tall, lean brunette stood nearly rigid, caged against the wall by Y/N’s arms. He had been the one to initiate the kiss, yes, but he also hadn’t expected her to be so dominant. Her lips moved against his with fervor, hot, labored breath mixing with his. He was happy to report that he now knew what she tasted like; vanilla bean and smoke, because of her strange yet lovable urge to eat burnt marshmallows.

He tested the waters, grabbing her hips and rocking them against his through his shorts. Shit, Y/N had not planned to tell him that she loved him too like this, but at the same time, she was not upset with the pleasure coursing through her body. His mouth swallowed her noises like their favorite cheap wine and she kicked open his legs with her own.

At the loss of her contact, Bucky sighed, but then her hand traced the lines of muscle and- oh, yeah, she really knew him well. “We’re gonna do this,” Bucky stammered out, “r-right now? Like, here and right now?”

Y/N snuck a hand under his shirt, feeling up the tight, smooth muscle he’d built up in the gym throughout college. “What can I say, emotional intimacy turns me on.”

“All emotional intimacy or just mine?” Bucky questioned.

There was a long pause. An on-the-verge-of-worrying pause. “Just yours, probably ‘cause I don’t get to see it as often.”

It worked well enough for him.

Bucky shrugged and placed his lips back onto hers, right where they should’ve been all along. With nimble, quick-moving fingers, Y/N fisting his shirt, mumbling a barely audible “off” and he complied to her every whim. When she begged for him to work his pants down he did and though she wanted to make the night about him, he still palmed at her tits with both hands through their messy makeout. She moaned at the way he pinched her hardening nipples through his thin tee shirt and her lacy bralette, but attention was quickly pulled away when she noticed his hardened length, his thick, hardened length against the inside of her thigh. So she did what any good person would do, and dropped down to her knees in front of him.

“God, you are so fucking horny right now,” Y/N simpered from below him, “I bet you’ve been waiting a real long time to get off, haven’t you, baby?”

Bucky could do nothing but moan and whine, with her lashes tickling his Adonis belt and her hand resting still over the bulge in his shorts. He was so close to coming right there on the spot because it was Y/N. Y/N who had patched him up after fights during lunch when he got bloody noses, and who had given him some of those as well. She’d stuck with him through shitty high school relationships and he’d offered her a place to stay when her house gave her too much to think about. There was a simple peck on the lips in a drunken haze, once, maybe twice throughout their college years, and absolutely nothing more. 

And now it was- 

“Y/N.” Bucky nearly choked on his own spit when she squeezed his length. Her on her knees, her fingers scrambling for his waistband like a madman. The elastic slapped once, twice against his taut skin as she fought to get it off, and with each short sting of pain, he found that he was struggling to breathe properly. 

It must’ve been a sight, him with his growing chestnut hair in a mess atop his head, cheeks red, and jaw dropped because his best friend was his. Y/N laid hot, open-mouthed kisses across his bare abdomen as she worked his underwear off, just pulling it down far enough for his cock to spring up and hit his stomach. He was needy. Precome dribbled down the shaft of his girthy dick, the thick head almost a purplish shade from nothing but pure lust. Unfortunately, he hadn’t been able to get off without thinking of her praises, and it was finally payback time.

Y/N didn’t even realize it, but she was drooling for his cock. She kneeled between his legs, absolutely transfixed on what stood between them, and immediately she got to work, licking up his mess.

Fuck.

Bucky hissed, his metal hand instinctively palming the back of her head. He reeled in the filthy sounds she made sucking his cock, her little gurgles and gags just turning him on even more. Her hot breath fanned out over his bare skin, and there and then Bucky decided: there was nothing better than the girl he loved sucking his cock.

“Oh shit, sweetheart, feel so fucking good, takin’ me so well too.” Bucky thrusted his hips into her throat, watching tears spring to her eyes at how deep he was. He smoothed down the baby hairs framing her face and rubbed her cheekbone soothingly. “Baby, say that I’m yours, please, I need to hear you.’

Y/N pulled off of his cock for a moment, watching a strand of saliva thin between the two of them. “All mine, Buck,” she kissed the tip of his cock, relishing the sweet noises that got caught in his throat, “and ‘m all yours. You’re doing so well, baby, taking my mouth so well. I know you wanna come, but just wait a little while, won’t you? I know you can be a good boy, Jamie.”

Her praise made him wild with climbing desire and though it hurt, how could deny a thing to his pretty girl?

As she took his dick back in he had to hold in a breath. He could feel each muscle in his body clench as he tried to dull the pleasure that ran rampant through his veins. The surroundings around him became a little hazy with each inch of him she took in her throat, the picture of his arm around her on the nightstand barely visible with the hot white ecstasy taking over his mind. 

Bucky was still too flustered to realize he had never had a chance like this- especially with someone he was so in love with.

He was putty in her hands. Fully and wholly he melted into her, barely able to stand up straight against the wall when she started massaging his tight balls. Y/N owned his body, whether she was planning on it or not, just with a couple of sweet (and filthy) words and her award-winning smile. 

One of her heavenly hands journeyed from his heavy sac to his left thigh and caressed the clenched muscle there. She enjoyed feeling him relax into her arms as she bobbed her head along his thick length, her lips nearly stretching at the seams from his girth. The coil at the pit of his tummy began to tighten, almost painfully so and he knew that he couldn’t stave off his orgasm much longer.

One warm palm grabbed the wall behind him, the other moving Y/N on his cock quicker as he grew closer. “Baby, baby, baby, ‘m gonna come so soon. Shit, I- please, I need to come, sweetheart, please.”

She nodded and hummed around his dick, and that sent him over the edge. 

“F-fuck, sweetheart. Love you so much, ‘m comin’, oh God-” He whimpered loudly as he spilled down her throat, coating it with ropes of his thick come. Y/N could only hum around his dick as he fucked her throat raw through his orgasm, the head of his cock bumping against her constricting walls. “You feel so good wrapped ‘round my cock, baby, no one’s as good as you. My pretty girl.”

When he finished releasing all his spend down her throat and she swallowed, he pulled her up to his mouth, getting another taste of her lips. She tasted like him and marshmallow and salt and he was addicted to her, her mouth, her body and everything that made her her. His mind was an endless daze of confusion and barely coherent after receiving the best blowjob he’d ever gotten, but he knew that he had her. Not wanting to be apart for any longer, he grabbed her close, pushing his tongue past her lips and her face in his hands, one hot and the other cold. Her hands grappled at anything to ground her from that forceful kiss, finding purchase on his bare shoulders, fingers digging into his skin. 

“Love you, Buck,” she whimpered into his mouth, “always have, baby.”

She finally found it in her to pull away from him and when she did, she was met with his pretty fluttering eyes, a bashful flush spread across his face and chest. Her hands soothed his shoulders and her eyes- he saw everything in them. The pretty shade erupted with color, love, and care, just as they always had when she looked at him. Just one of the many reasons his heart beat for her and her only.

With gentle hands she planted one more kiss to his soft lips, tucking his softened cock back into his briefs before walking over to his twin-sized bed.

“Y-you-” Bucky gulped with wide eyes, watching as Y/N started to make her way under his covers. She motioned for him to get the lamplight and he did with a confused stare. Waddling over to where she laid, he asked, “you don’t wanna do anything else?”

As she grabbed his arm to pull him down, she answered him. “Do you wanna do anything else right now?”

“I mean,” he blushed and scratched the back of his head, “only if you want to. I didn’t just wanna get off, y’know? I meant what I said earlier.”

“I know you did, Buck,” she kissed the heel of his palm above her heart. “Meant it too when I said you’re all mine. Never wanted anyone else.”

“Huh,” he let Y/N turn around in his hold, listening to the sheets rustle around them until their noses were brushing. She planted a kiss on his lips, but when she pulled away, he was the one to reel her back in for another. His tongue slipped into her mouth and they traded breath, whispers of adoration laced in her taste. But then Bucky stopped. “But y-you- you didn’t get to-”

“There will be plenty of time for you to get me off later, Buck, but please for the love of God and everything holy, go to sleep.” She kissed him once more before burrowing her head into the warmth of his bare chest. “It’s nearly midnight, baby, and you’re really grumpy with the kids when you don’t get enough sleep.”

His metal hand tightened his hold against her tee-shirt covered back. “‘M not grumpy, you lie. I am a beam of sunshine with the kids.” 

She didn’t respond to his joke, but he could feel her huff out a laugh against his chest. It was late. Outside his window, he could see that they had killed the fire, only smoke swirling up into the moonlit sky as blackness surrounded the rest of the night. So he closed his eyes, trying to tame his heart that was beating only for the sleepy girl he held in his arms. 

But of course, he couldn’t help but say it again.

“I love you, sweetheart.”

In the silence of their kindling love, they could hear the crickets. Truly they were rather loud at night, with their nature symphony, the rustling redwood trees, and occasional coyote howls illuminating the music. Inside of an old wood cabin, two college lovers laid, wrapped in each other’s embrace. Their hearts finally full entwined with each other's burning love for the other, they were in for a peaceful night. 

“Love you too, Buck.”

A peaceful night indeed.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #buckybarnes #bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #sebastian stan x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky smut #campcounselor!bucky #the hotel indigo writing challenge #𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐟𝐥𝐚𝐠'𝐬 𝐮𝐩

[allyouneedisbuck]

i don’t wanna do this (i don’t wanna lose this)

eighteen plus blog minors dni

summary -> it’s all fake, every piece of it scripted and perfected for the camera, even the upcoming break-up you pretend doesn’t break your heart.

words -> 2.5k

warnings -> fake relationship, use of name (bucky calls the reader by her character’s name, lucia, once) nickname uses (baby, sweetheart) co-workers/friends to lovers, no smut, not beta’d

notes -> this is for the lovely maera’s ( @ambrosiase ) hotel indigo writing challenge i absolutely love this idea mae and am so appreciative that you created this challenge, it really pushed me out of my comfort zone and i got to explore an entirely new au.  

room & service -> business meets pleasure with celebrity bucky barnes -> bucky and reader are co-stars in a fake relationship in a hotel for their final comic-con together.

— ➶ —

Bucky has been doing interviews with Sam all day today. 

You’ve been working together for six seasons and have both been to too many comic-cons to count. Every single one of them you and Bucky had been paired up to do interviews and photo-ops together. 

A scripted piece of a scripted relationship. Agreed upon when your characters romance began to pick up popularity and designed to look perfect until the end.

Tomorrow an article with be released ‘leaking’ the details of your perfect break-up too. A source close to the both of you will comment that wrapping of the show and being forced to go long distance just wasn’t working for you two. The writer will supply photos of today, the two of you avoiding sitting near one another and not speaking. They’ll write that their source confirmed this convention is actually the first time you’ve seen each other in months. 

Even more articles have already been planted periodically questioning whether the two of you were still together, generating buzz around the show and what happens between your characters. It’s a brilliant job, honestly.

Except, you and Bucky had been in a fake relationship for so long, it had begun to feel real. This distance between you two felt purposeful in a way that hurt you more than it ever should have. 

Your assistant is supposed to go through your instagram soon and begin archiving posts and pieces of your fake life with Bucky. He’s been glaringly absent from your social media recently and it makes your heart ache at the idea of him being nonexistent.

Your fans have noticed too. You read comment after comment all asking the same thing; What happened to you and Bucky? 

“Oh, Lucia! My dear, Lucia.” You bite down a grin at the sound of Bucky’s voice through your door. His words were filtered by the wall between you and a little slurred from the drinks he had no doubt consumed at the hotel bar. “Open the door, please.” 

You lock your phone and lay it on the bed beside you. “I’m busy, Bucky! Go bother Sam.” You call back despite already walking towards the door. 

“Bother Sam? On our last night together?” You can see Bucky smile teasingly though the peephole. Despite his joking tone the words hurt. “Four years together and this is how things end? Through a hotel room door?” 

His fist comes up to bang against the door and a hand comes up to his heart. He’s putting on a show for you, fully away of your eye watching carefully through the peephole. “How much have you had to drink, Bucky Barnes?” You ask as the door remains closed. 

Bucky holds his fingers up in a pinch too small to be true. “Not much.” When his hand falls back to his side he smiles up at the peephole. “Let me in, sweetheart. I’ve missed you.” 

You melt, becoming putty in his hand as you quickly move to unlatch the door. “I’ve missed you too.” You admit to him, face to face, as you lean against the door jam. 

A smirk replaces Bucky’s sweet smile as his hands reach out to grip your hips. “This break-up is tough on me, baby.” He pushes you into the room, kicking the door shut behind him. “One more night. One last time. You and me.” 

“Shut up!” You force his hands off of you and turn towards the mini bar in your room. “You’re such a dweeb. I’m glad we’re breaking up.” You pull out the miniature bottle of wine and twist the top off. 

Bucky’s hand slams across his chest as he falls against the wall in dramatic fashion. “You’re… Glad? My frail heart can’t take it,” he falls to his knees, “Please. Tell my mother, I loved her.”

You watch, unamused, as Bucky falls to the floor in front of you. “You’re obnoxious.” A beaming smile breaks out onto Bucky’s face that makes you grin.

“I was serious, about missing you.” Bucky moves to sit up with his back against the edge of your bed. You move to sit beside him on the floor. “These junkets and photos just aren’t the same without you by my side, cracking jokes in my ear.”

You rest your head against his shoulder. “Me too. I love Wanda, but it’s just not the same.” You admit quietly.

There’s so much that you want to say to him. What if this wasn’t fake? What if we didn’t go through with the break-up plan? “Did they send you our social media plan?” Bucky asks quietly.

“Yeah,” You swallow thickly, “I have my assistant going through my account for me soon. We’re supposed to start untagging and deleting photos of each other this week.”

Bucky snorts. “How fucking sweet. Four years together and they have us untag each other to confirm a break up.” His fingers tap against his thigh as the two of you sit on the carpeted floor together.

“Has it really been four years?” You ask quietly. It’s more of a question to yourself, but Bucky answers it with a nod anyways.

“My longest relationship ever and it was fake.” Bucky’s awkward laugh makes the air tense as he stares down at his hands. “I’ve wasted so much of my life. So many chances gone.”

You know the words aren’t said with ill intent, but that doesn’t stop the crack from forming in your heart. You can’t fathom the idea of all your time together, fake or not, being a waste.

Your eyes cut away from him in embarrassment. “Was it really all a waste?” You ask quietly. The words are unintentional, but that doesn’t change the fact that they’re out in the air.

“What?” You can feel his eyes settle on you in an attempt to read your face or body language, but a career in acting comes in handy. Your back is ramrod straight and your face turned away perfectly to hide the emotions in your eyes. “It was fake when we could have had something real with people we actually cared about.”

It’s a knife to your broken heart. “People we actually care about?”

“You know, like, other girls and guys who we wanted to pursue but couldn’t because of the contract.” Bucky reaches out to wrap a hand around yours, but you pull away. “I don’t understand what’s wrong here.”

You shake your head, the regret of your words settling over you. “Nothing. I’m just… It’s been a long day.” You use the edge of the bed to help you stand while Bucky remains on the floor, watching you in confusion. “I’m tired, you should go.”

“Woah. What’s this one-eighty?” Bucky stands too and follows you as you move around to gather your toothbrush and skincare. “Two seconds ago we were joking about a fake break-up and now you’re all quiet and weird? You expect me to just leave?”

“Please.” You plead. The last thing you want to do is dump all your feelings out to Bucky, on the last day you two were officially contracted to each other, and make him feel guilty for feeling free. “I just need to be alone, Buck.”

You move to push past him towards your bathroom, but Bucky’s hand wraps around your wrist. “Come on, sweetheart. Don’t do this closing yourself off thing.”

“I’m not.” You say stubbornly. “I’m tired.” You try again to move past him, but his grip only tightens as he forces you to actually face him. “Buck-“

“You can tell me, you know?” He says quietly as his grip slackens. Your eyes meet his, pools of blue staring back at you with something akin to hurt. “You can trust me. We’re best friends, right? You’re my-“

“You don’t have to lie to me, Bucky. Pretend to care. You can go back to the bar and…” You pull your hand from him and cross your arms over your chest. “And tomorrow we can start being with people we actually care about.”

Bucky’s eyes squeeze shut as his own words are repeated back and left out in the open between you two. “That’s not what I…”

“What did you mean then?” You cut him off. You want to sound angry, but your tone is sad and tired. “Enlighten me, please.”

“I just meant… I meant we could date who we wanted to date, I didn’t mean for it to sound so awful.” He answers quietly. “I care about you a lot. We’ve been friends for over half a decade, of course I care about you.”

You swallow thickly. “What if I don’t want to date anyone else?” You force yourself to ask. If not now, then when? Ten years from now at a reunion of your show? You couldn’t live with this what if.

“What?” Bucky’s hand falls from your wrist as he takes a step back like your words have burned him.

You push through the thundering of your heart and ringing in your ears to ask, “haven’t you ever thought about it? I mean, four years of just us, all those dates and premieres, was it really all just work for you?”

“I don’t know… I mean…” Bucky rubs a hand over his jaw as you stare at him expectantly. “Have you?”

“I asked the question I think that would imply…” You trail off as his answer weighs down on your mind. It feels like a no. No. No. No. It’s on repeat in your mind as you move to sit down on your bed. “After a while the dates and photos and sappy posts didn’t feel all that forced anymore.” You admit quietly.

Bucky paces silently in front of you. You’re unsure of what’s going through his mind as he does it and it’s all you can do to not tap anxiously as you watch.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” He finally asks when he finally pauses in front of you. You look up at him unsure of what to say. “I mean… When did you start…” He trails off like he doesn’t want the answer.

You look down at your hands in your lap. Despite your worries in telling Bucky you guess you had never truly thought of this conversation ending up this way. All these questions felt like Bucky preparing for a gentle rejection.

“I don’t know. After our second anniversary?” You keep your answer to him vague despite you being fully aware of when you started seeing Bucky differently. “That post you wrote for me that day. All the ones after. All of those words were fake?”

Your mind drifts to his words that day. The sweet and short caption had made butterflies erupt as you scrolled through the photos he had posted with it. Despite you both being required to post something, the photos he had chosen had been entirely genuine.

Pictures the two of you had taken together on set, selfies during your fake dates, and even a sweet set of photo booth pictures from your first premiere together.

You had stared at the post far too long as emotions rushed through you. Your heart raced at the idea of Bucky taking his time to pick photos that meant something to the both of you.

“I think that..” You shake your head in an attempt to rid yourself of the painful reminders. “I think you should go.” You stand up suddenly, your hands pushing gently at his chest.

Bucky’s eyes widen as his hands come up grip your arms in an attempt to stop you. “Woah. Let’s talk about this. I’m just trying to figure everything out.”

“Figure it out? What is there to figure out, Bucky?” You cry out, shoving harder. “If you don’t know how you feel then you should figure it out on your own.” You move past him to open the door.

Bucky follows after you hastily. “Sweetheart, wait, please. I just need a moment.” You grip his forearms tightly using Bucky’s own momentum against him as you guide him to the hallway outside your room. “I wasn’t expecting this. We have articles and photos and interviews planned about a break-up tomorrow.”

“I shouldn’t have said anything, Bucky.” The two of you are back where your night began. Opposite sides of the door as you stare, unsure of what to say. “Let’s just pretend this never happened, okay? The article will be published and we’ll confirm it and life will move on.”

The door slams shut in his face without warning, not giving him a chance to say anything else. You stare blankly at the ugly, green shade its painted in silence as you remind yourself; It was all fake. A script you had been given and followed to a tee. One you had gotten too caught up in.

You’re feelings don’t change the ending.

There’s a slow knock on your door. You suck in a breath as you move to open it an apology on the tip of your tongue.

“Bucky.” You’re cut off as his hands come up to rest on your cheeks and he pulls you towards him. Anything you had to say dissipates as his lips meet yours in a bruising kiss.

Your hands come up to grip his t-shirt tightly as you kiss him back your tongue slipping into his mouth while he pulls you flush against his body.

An arm wraps around your waist and Bucky pushes you back into your room, his foot kicking your door closed harshly.

The back of your knees hit the edge of your bed and you finally pull away to look at Bucky, but he speaks before you can say anything.

“Of course I’ve thought about it.” He breathes out. His eyes are wide with nerves and his cheeks flushed red. The sight of it mixed with his kiss makes your heart pound. “I’ve thought about kissing you for real, not in a room filled with crew and cameras. About what it would be like to be on a date where paparazzi hasn’t been tipped off. Baby,” his hands rest on your cheeks again as he forces your eyes to meet his, “I’ve thought about it all. What it would be like to be with you, to really be with you in every way. Sometimes it’s all I think about when we’re together.”

You take pause, your eyes widening and hands freezing in place as you listen to what he’s saying. “Why didn’t you say anything then? Why’d you just pace and ask me all those questions?”

“Because I’m an idiot.” He smiles brightly when you giggle. “Because I couldn’t believe you actually felt the same way. I was in shock.” He presses a gentle kiss to your lips.

You smile up at him softly. “What do we do about the article tomorrow?” You whisper your question.

You feel giddy with excitement as Bucky’s hands land on your hips to hold you in place, flush against him. “We deny it.”

“What about our managers?” Your smile doesn’t fade even as stress over the situation arises. “And…And our separate interviews tomorrow?”

“What are they gonna do? Fire us?” Bucky smiles. “We’ll tell them all about how in love we still are. That the source in the article was a dud and we’ve just been private recently as the show wraps.”

“We will?” You ask quietly. Your heart racing at his words. “You want to say all that?”

Bucky nods his head. “I do.”

You don’t say anything else he leans in for another kiss, you could worry tomorrow.

Bonus -> The Next Day

liked by buckybarnes, samwilson and 134,759 others

yourinstagram the final season of our show premieres this weekend and we’re so excited for you all to see how it ends. the first photo is from tonight and the second from our first season! the past six years has brought me so much joy and i’m so grateful for everything this show has given me. most importantly though, i’m thankful for you, bucky barnes. my adrian to my lucia. my best friend. my lover. thanks for making this show so fun.

View all 15,398 comments

samwilson we made a great show. love you guys.

buckyfan thought y’all were a pr stunt lmao

yourinstagram apparently you’re not supposed to really fall in love for those to work…

buckybarnes i am most grateful for you. you made work worth it every god damn day.

yourfan my favorite couple on and off the screen.

— ➶ —

notes -> this is my first ever time joining a writing challenge, it really pushed me to work through block and focus on this instead of letting is die out like i have with other projects despite liking them so much!

(hoping you guys don’t hate the extra instagram idea, i just felt it fit in!)

hopefully you enjoyed and if you did, reblogs are greatly appreciated!

#the hotel indigo writing challenge #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #james bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x f!reader

[fanficapologist]

Of Dragons and Maelstroms

Themes and Warnings: slow burn, enemies to lovers, blood, violence, explicit language, sexual violence, period-typical misogyny, sexual themes, smut, tension, marriage, jealousy, pregnancy, childbirth, miscarriage, attempted sexual assault, breastfeeding, major character death, divergent timelines

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood/Game of Thrones characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Chapter Twenty

Maera's footsteps echoed softly in the corridors as she walked back to her room, her thoughts consumed by the letters she needed to write to her sisters, full of words of congratulation and encouragement, masking her own inner turmoil. She felt a mixture of concern, responsibility, and her own lingering sadness about the situation. But as she entered her chambers, her attention was abruptly diverted from her thoughts. A knot of unease formed in her stomach at the sight that greeted her.

There, cornered by King Aegon, stood her maid Thena, clearly uncomfortable and trapped. Her ginger braids tumbling out of her cap, her chest heaving in panic. Aegon wore a sly, lustful expression, the same one he wore during Maera’s encounter with him after the family dinner, and it set Maera's blood boiling. Her voice dripped with both irritation as she demanded, "Why are you in my chambers, Your Grace?"

Aegon's smirk remained firmly in place as he responded, his words dripping with arrogance, "It's my castle, my dear Lady. I can go where I please."

Not one to back down, Maera stepped forward, her eyes flashing with defiance. "Release my servant, Aegon" she demanded firmly, her eyes narrowing as she faced the king's brazen advances.

Aegon's gaze locked onto Maera, his tone carrying a weight of authority as he questioned, "Did you just dare to command your king?" There was a challenge in his voice, a dare for her to defy his power.

Maera's mind raced but she did not outwardly flinch. She suppressed the urge to roll her eyes at his arrogance, knowing that any further defiance would only worsen the situation. Instead, she quickly recalibrated her approach, sensing the potential for this situation to escalate dangerously. “I would never presume to command my king," she responded with a calm yet assertive tone. "I believe, Your Grace, that you were seeking my presence when you entered my chambers. Might I suggest that you allow Thena to continue her duties whilst I assist you?" She hoped her diplomatic approach would quell Aegon's temper.

Aegon turned to Maera, his eyes narrowing as he considered her words. After letting out an an exasperated scoff, the King slowly released one of his arms from the wall, allowing Thena to slip past him. There was a hint of irritation in his expression, but Maera forced herself to smile at him. Thena began to scurry towards the chamber doors, mouthing a desperate "thank you” to Maera, who then immediately thought of her own safety. She instructed Thena in a hushed whisper to find a guard and have him stationed outside her door, knowing that the situation could easily take a turn for the worse.

Aegon watched Thena go, his eyes lingering on her retreating figure before he turning his attention back to Maera. There's a smug, almost predatory grin on his face. "You're quite the protector of your servants, aren't you, Maera?"

She clenches her jaw, choosing her words carefully. "I treat those who serve me with respect, as they deserve.” Maera then gestured to a chair at the dining table, her voice still even, as if she were hosting any other guest in her chambers. "Please, Your Grace, have a seat. How can I be of service to you today?"

As Aegon sprawled in the chair, his wine-soaked breath wafting through the room. His figure was draped in resplendent deep green robes adorned with intricate golden embroidery of dragons, the unmistakeable sigil of the Targaryen dynasty. Surprisingly, he inquired about Maera's adjustment to life at court, which immediately sets Maera on edge. Wary of the conversation's direction, she replied courteously, "I've settled in well, Your Grace, thank you. I find great satisfaction in serving Queen Helaena, and I've had the pleasure of growing close to the royal children.”

Aegon leaned back with a satisfied grin, revealing his intentions. "Excellent," he said. "I wanted to discuss something with you. The Harvest Moon Ball is approaching, and I plan to go hunting a few days before it. I’ve invited some of the other Lords and Ladies to join me as well.” He reaches across the table and pours himself some wine, gulping it down and wiping his face on his sleeve before continuing. “I'd like you to join us on the hunt, Lady Maera. I'm sure the fresh air and excitement will do you good. And your King has not had the pleasure of your company since you first arrived here."

Maera hesitated, internally wrestling with her feelings of reluctance to spend any more time than necessary with the king. She chose her words carefully, aiming to maintain a façade of respect while trying to gauge his intentions. "Your Grace, I am deeply honored by your invitation, but I believe I should seek permission from Queen Helaena before making such a commitment. Her well-being, and that of her children, are my priority.”

Aegon's voice hardened as he replied, "I am the King, Maera. My authority supersedes Queen Helaena's in this matter." Aegon takes another drink from the goblet, some of the wine splashing onto his robes. “My mother will stay with my wife and children on the day of the hunt.”

Maera felt trapped. She knew that Aegon's pursuits on a hunt often involved excessive drinking and debauchery, and the thought of being there to witness such a site made her uncomfortable. Maera attempted to diplomatically voice her concern, "I am not certain if joining a hunt would be considered appropriate for a Lady of my station, Your Grace."

Aegon's laughter was almost mocking. "Oh, I assure you, Lady Maera, I won't be the one to inform your father of your unbecoming behavior. Consider it an exception for the sake of your King.”

Maera was uncertain whether Aegon was aware of her secret sparring sessions with Aemond, and she wisely chose not to press the matter. Reluctantly, she agreed to the king's request, unable to decline outright. "Very well, Your Grace. I shall do as my king commands and accompany you on the hunt."

Aegon grinned at her response before leaning back in the chair, studying her with a glint of curiosity in his eyes. "I’m curious, Maera. What does a Lady who is experienced with swordplay and hunting wear to such an event?" he mused, a subtle edge to his tone.

Maera knew that the King’s conversation was beginning to turn. so she responded with a forced smile, to end the conversation quickly. "I shall wear my riding leathers, Your Grace, as they are most suitable for a hunt."

Aegon's smile widened, and she could practically see the wheels turning in his mind. "Of course," he purred. "I do hope they cling to your figure so I may get a better look. Seven Hells, the Gods have blessed you with such curves. Although, I’m sure riding leathers won’t give me as good of a view of your breasts as this lovely dress does.”

Aegon's unwelcome lewd comments about her body sent shivers down Maera's spine, making her acutely aware of her vulnerability. Her instinctive reaction was to cover her chest, where the small white scar bore witness to her first sparring match with Aemond. As she moved to excuse herself, Aegon's demeanor suddenly darkened and he also rose from his seat.

“I do love a hunt, Maera. The anticipation of the chase is so thrilling.” Aegon took a step closer, and Maera instinctively took one back. She wouldn’t let him intimidate her, and spied around her chambers for the quickest way to the exit. She knew how unpredictable Aegon could be, especially when he'd been drinking.

As she tried to step away, Aegon gripped both of her arms with his hands, applying an enormous amount of pressure. Maera tried to shake them off but she could not. She then tried to step around him but could not. Maera's heart raced, but she maintained her composure.

Aegon backed her against the dining table, and Maera's eyes widened with fear as he continued to speak inappropriately.

“You’ve been avoiding me since that night, when you refused me. But I will not be refused again.” Aegon’s gaze wandered over her form with an almost predatory intent, his iron grip on her arms crushing.

Her voice trembled as she spoke, "You're hurting me." Ignoring Maera’s pleas, Aegon continued with his vile advances, her words only seemed to inflame his twisted desires. The King's intentions were becoming unmistakably sinister.

Fear gnawed at her as he threatened her modesty, reaching for the ribbons of her dress. Panic set in, and Maera attempted to push him away. Aegon responded with brute force, shoving her so that she tumbled to the floor, the corner of the table colliding painfully with the back of her neck as she hit the stone. He descended upon her like a predator, his hands clawing at her dress. Maera's mind raced with terror as she grappled to free herself, but Aegon's strength was overwhelming. Fear coursed through her veins as Aegon attempted to lift her skirts. Maera struggled, writhed, and fought against him as hard as she could, but to no avail.

"Get the fuck off me!" Desperation clawed at her throat, and she screamed for help, but her cries were stifled as Aegon covered her mouth with one of his hands.

In her darkest moment, as she feared the worst, salvation arrived. The door swung open, and Ser Arryk, the knight, burst into the room, his eyes narrowing as he quickly assessed the horrifying scene. Without hesitation, he intervened, pulling the crazed king away from her, potentially preventing a terrible violation. Maera remained on the floor, trembling and clutching the front of her dress, her breaths coming in ragged bursts and she felt an overwhelming urge to vomit from the sheer shock of the encounter. The world around her seemed to blur, her thoughts consumed by the harrowing ordeal.

Thena swiftly arrived, wrapping a shawl around Maera to preserve her modesty, offering the only comfort she could in such a horrifying moment. Maera's cheeks burned with embarrassment as she huddled beneath the fabric, grateful for the small sense of protection it provided.

Meanwhile, Aegon's fury erupted as he berated Ser Arryk with a venomous intensity, demanding an explanation for his interference. Maera could hear their voices, but their words seemed distant, as if she were underwater. Maera could still feel his grip on her, his foul intentions weighing on her like a nightmare. Ser Arryk's voice cut through the fog in her mind, explaining the urgency of his intrusion. “My King, the lord Hand has called a small council meeting urgently. There is news that Daemon has been spotted in the Vale on Caraxes.”

The news was unexpected, and the gravity of the situation managed to pull Maera partially back to reality. Aegon's demeanor shifted abruptly, his attention torn between the small council meeting and Maera on the floor. He looked down at her, his eyes narrowing, and a twisted smile curled his lips.

With a chillingly sly tone, he remarked “I look forward to see you on the hunt, my Lady,” a stark contrast to the horrifying incident that had just unfolded. Without another word, he exited the room with Ser Arryk in tow, the doors closing behind them.

Maera could no longer contain the emotions that engulfed her and let out a guttural scream, the sound echoing through the chambers, mixed with her cries of distress. Thena rushed to her side, holding her, trying to provide some form of comfort amidst the chaos. Maera screamed and screamed, as her thoughts raced around in her head. Maera grappled with the feelings of being trapped, violated, and weak, reduced to a mere plaything for the King’s amusement. The helplessness she experienced during Aegon's attempted assault haunted her, and her fists clenched involuntarily. Thena held her trembling form, rocking her gently in an attempt to provide some solace amid the storm that has enveloped her Lady.

Maera sat on her bed, parchment and quill in hand, but her thoughts were a turbulent whirlwind of anguish and anger. Her body bore the physical marks of Aegon's assault - bruises on her forearms and the back of her neck, grim reminders of the traumatic encounter. Tears continued to flow silently down her cheeks, her eyes unable to cease their stream. She wanted to write to her sisters, to offer them some comfort and guidance, but her thoughts were consumed by the horrors of what had transpired.

Beside her, Thena dutifully applied salve to the discolored bruises on Maera’s arms and neck, hoping to soothe the painful reminders etched into her lady's skin. Her touch was gentle, an attempt to bring some relief to the shades of black and purple that had now formed. Concern etched across Thena’s face, she wished desperately to comfort her lady.

"Perhaps some stew from the kitchen would do you good, Lady Maera," Thena suggested softly, placing a hand on Maera's trembling shoulder, causing the lady to flinch slightly. Maera shook her head, her appetite nonexistent. She could feel the nausea churning in her stomach, the mere thought of food making her stomach turn. Thena persisted, suggesting a slice of blackberry pie instead, perhaps a sweet treat to lift Maera's spirits, but the lady shook her head once more, staring blankly at the parchment in her hand.

Thena's eyes filled with concern as she continued her work. "My lady, you need sustenance. It's been hours since you've had a proper meal. You need to keep your strength up."

"I don't want to eat," Maera replied, her words a mixture of frustration and sadness. "I can't even think about food right now."

Tears welled in Thena's eyes as she looked upon her lady, her heart aching for the pain she saw. "I'm so sorry, my lady," she whispered. "It should've been me, not you."

Maera's eyes snapped to her maid, a fierce look of opposition flashing in her eyes. "Don't you dare say that," she retorted, her voice firm. "No one should endure such cruelty. It was not your fault."

Finally, the application of salve was complete, and Maera wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. She took a deep breath, her mind filled with a whirlwind of emotions. She looked at Thena and managed a small, appreciative smile.

"It’s been a challenging day for all of us. Take your leave and get some rest, I need to be left alone for a while," Maera requested. She also asked the maid to inform Queen Helaena that she had fallen ill and needed a few days to recuperate. The excuse would allow her the solitude she needed to come to terms with her pain.

Thena agreed to carry out Maera's wishes and as prepared to leave the chambers, Maera had one more request. "Find a knight, Thena, someone trustworthy, and have them stand guard outside my door. I… I worry Aegon might return to finish what he started.” The servant nodded in understanding and left the chamber.

Left alone in the dimly lit room, the tears still wet on her cheeks, Maera sat with the parchment before her. With trembling hands, she finally put quill to paper, writing words of congratulations to her sisters, words that masked her inner turmoil, words that would hide her pain. A bellowing roar was heard and Maera could see Ēbrion from her window, emerging from the immense cavern that served as his lair on the beach. Even from her chambers, Maera could see the moonlight reflecting off of the beasts’ scales, a mesmerizing blend of deep blues and inky blacks.

Flapping his wings sending the sand dancing across the shoreline, Ēbrion ascends into the heavens, his form silhouetted by the veiled moon. He pierces through the thick, grey clouds, and his majestic silhouette swallowed by the darkness.

#maera wylde #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #aemond x oc #chapters #hotd aemond #hotd fanfic #hotd helaena #house targaryen #house wylde

[hiraethhh-h]

day 9 - argument

fandom: the arcana

parings: julian devorak x OC

warnings: death, descriptions of dead bodies, spoilers for julian’s route/arcana lore.

notes: not something i’m very proud of, but fuck it we ball <3 this takes place during the red plague!

wc: 1.2k

12 day writing challenge

a stinging sensation shot throughout the woman’s body, drawing a sharp gasp from the woman. she shot up from her bed, eyes blown wide. maera gripped her left shoulder with a hiss, a faint pulse beating beneath the palm of her hand. pain from her mark was never a good sign.

the demoness shut her eyes with a shaky exhale, slowly drawing in her breath to calm her racing heart and quell her mind. she searched for who had caused such a feeling. a harsh tug at her chest snapped maera back to reality, the woman ‘tsk’ing indignantly. she tore the velvet covers off her body, quick to stand.

ilya is in trouble.

shadows snaked out from beneath maera’s bed, stretching out against the cold polished floor. they trailed after maera, wispy claws slipping robes onto her shoulders. she pushed through her bedroom doors, all but speed-walking into her teleportation chamber. she snapped her fingers, turning to grab some powder from a nearby pouch on a pedestal. curling her fingers, maera shut her eyes and envisioned the city of vesuvia, overrun by sickness, death looming in every shadow, the moon crying red beetles.

she unfurled her fist, blowing the powder from her palm. the glitter particles glistened in the air, maera’s hair standing on edge as a green wispy oval began to form before her. she didn’t hesitate in stepping through.

maera emerged with a soft woosh, the portal closing behind her. her heels clacked loudly as she trudged down the vast hall, the woman keeping an eye out for any workers or the countess. thankfully, the coast was clear. she entered the count’s room, her face steeled. “montag. why is the doctor in danger?”

she faltered for a moment upon seeing lucio in his bed, his skin clinging to his bones. he looked deathly pale, not to mention frail. there was barely a scrap of muscle left in his intact arm. “ah, the demoness has come to take my soul.” lucio rasped, his lips curled into a sneer-like smile.

maera narrowed her eyes, “if only i could i would’ve done it long ago. now answer me. where is the doctor?” a groan came from the count, “water… i need water…” he huffed, looking to maera with pleading eyes. maera scoffed, “do i look like a servant to you?” she turned to leave, heading back down the hall she came from. “i should have never accepted that deal with you.” maera spat over her shoulder.

making her way out of the room, she allowed her mark to guide her to julian. below. why, why is he below? maera furrowed her brows in thought, passing a few pillar-lined walls. she did her best to keep her senses open to any nearby magic, knowing the palace held secrets even she didn’t know, despite being close friends with nadia.

she stopped beside a wall, slowly turning her head to look at it. maera reached a hand out, her hand passing through the wall. she felt cold air on the palm of her hand, a soft huff leaving the woman. stepping through, maera was met with a desolate, worn stone stairway. the path down was dimly lit by torches mounted on the wall, but something else caught the demoness’ attention.

it reeked of death.

maera began to descend the winding stairway, eventually coming face-to-face with a large wooden door. she pushed through, her eyes widening at the sight before her. cages filled with dead, decaying bodies, people huddled in the corner as it was barely large enough to fit them. people, dead or alive maera couldn’t tell, were strapped to the wooden tables, their body cavities open and stretched to the stars. she swallowed thickly, knowing only one such mind was capable of creating such a hell.

“ah, the demoness. what a pleasure to see you. have you come to inspect my handiwork?” 

maera sighed upon hearing valdemar’s voice. she turned to look at the doctor (?), “valdemar. i’m in search of doctor devorak.” valdemar’s lips curled into a sneer-like smile, “ah, unfortunately the doctor was put away by the count. an incentive to work , he said.” maera raised a brow, “i see… if i may, then?”

valdemar eyed maera for a moment before gesturing to a door behind them, “you’ll find the doctor there. if you’re still around, feel free to inspect any and all of my handiwork. we do have plenty to go around after all.” they smiled sickly, gesturing to the bodies scattered about. maera nodded, silently turning away to head in julian’s direction.

she approached the large wooden door, going to open it but to no avail. maera resorted to pounding her fist on the door, “julian?” she called. faint shuffling was heard on the other side, a muffled voice sounding back to her. “... maera? is that you?” maera tried the door handle yet again, but it didn’t budge. she could sense a bit of magic imbued in the door, if only she could just-

“don’t open the door! please…” julian’s voice caused her to flinch, maera’s head snapping up. “i… can’t let you see me like this.”

“see you like what? we’ve laid together countless times, i doubt-” “i have the plague, maera.” the woman immediately fell silent, her heartbeat drumming in her ears. “what..?” she breathed out. “all the better to let me in, i cannot be effected by the plague.” maera insisted. she aimlessly wiggled the door handle, a deep frown etched onto her face. 

“why are you locked in your office, ilya? what is going on?” no response came from the doctor, only alarming maera more. “the count, he… fed me a plague beetle and locked me in my office, said it would incentivise me, no distractions.” julian’s strained voice finally reached her ears, the male forcing out a dry laugh as though what he said was the joke of the century.

“he what?” maera hissed. anger was quick to replace her fear, power now emanating off her being in almost nauseating waves. “that stupid count. i should’ve flayed him with my own hands when i was in his bedchambers.” she snarled. “but i’ve found the cure.” julian spoke after a few moments of silence, “i just need to gather myself. i can’t let you help me, not with so much at stake. i’m sorry…”

maera scowled, her eyes glaring through the door. she was sure julian could feel her gaze. “ilya. you bear my mark, it is within our contract for me to help you. all you need to do is say the words and i will go to the ends of the earth for you.” she anxiously awaited his response, her heartbeat only quickening by the second. 

“i want you… to go somewhere far away from here. somewhere safe.” julian murmured, his voice now closer to the door, albeit still muffled. “ilya.” maera gaped. “you’re a fool! i can help you, please, let me-!” maera gripped her shoulder with a hiss, shaking her head as she tried to bite back the pain.

“ilya, don’t you dare shoulder this on your own! don’t be a reckless idiot!” she shook her head, pounding her fist on the door as though it would magically open and she would tumble into julian’s arms.

“i’m sorry, maera. this is for the best. for both of us.”

maera’s feet carried her away, the demoness’ expression grim. she said nothing to valdemar, retracing her way to the portal she had taken to get into the vesuvian palace. with a shaky exhale, maera willed the portal to reappear.

she cast a glance over her shoulder, a dull ache now replacing the burning-sting. with a frown, maera stepped through the portal without a second thought.

#bee's writing #julian arcana #julian the arcana #julian devorak #the arcana original character #the arcana game #the arcana spoilers #the arcana

[tarantula-hawk-wasp]

The iceberg image and it’s like the amount of Maera fic I have posted (tip of iceberg). The amount of maera fic I have written for future chapters that is sitting in my docs (bulk of iceberg).

I forget how much like I know and decided on when I first thought her up almost two years ago which like holy shit almost two years and there are a lot of scenes we haven’t gotten to yet that I’ve worked on… plus the half written vampire western series…..

Like we haven’t gotten to Dorian or Bull in Sinite Parvula but ohhh boy…. Dorian especially bc it’s probably gonna take me a year to get to the chapters this info is properly revealed in but he held her as a baby once and that made an impression on him and when he looks at her that’s on his mind a lot and just UGH I need to write that fic or like I need to write the like 7 more chapters I have solid plans for

I’ve had writers block about two chapters from what I need to write for like one specific scene bc it’s the other characters having come up with questions to ask Maera and like trying to think about each character and what questions they would ask when like I am terrible at coming up with questions in real life in any situation has been a challenge I have made slow progress on

Also I must say the fact that for school now latin composition is my homework twice a week is making me think about this fic and Maera

#inquisitor Maera

[spicylief]

Working through ‘Every Day Like the Last Part II‘

I swear...writing a fic around the dialogue between Jespar and Maera has been quite the challenge and I hope people like it when it comes out I had to make some minor tweaks, but it’s mostly diverting from a couple of the responses the Prophetess can make in the game. I just wanted to throw this out there.

#enderal #vynblr #fanfic #fanfiction #oc #prophetess #jespar #jespar dal'varek #maera #maera vervain

[pellucid-constellations]

hi kathie <3 i hope you’re well, angel.

the love letters challenge looks wonderful, and i started listening to the playlist which sparked some inspiration! so i’m hoping that i can enter the challenge? because i may or may not have gotten too excited and already started writing lol

Maera!! Omg you've already started I'm so excited to read!! 🥰

Also your theme rn is so pretty!!

#asks #loveletterswritingchallenge

[gxrlcinema]

ilana 💕 firstly, a massive congratulations on your milestone! you’re so supportive of everyone on here, and you deserve such wonderful things to come your way 💕

may i please join your wonderful writing challenge (i’m in love with it btw, musical theatre nerds rejoice) for stay - amelie, with bucky barnes

and thank you for hosting, it’s such a creative idea! 💕

I am so genuinely excited that there's so many theatre kids online with me!!! (we should really discuss the theatre kid to MCU pipeline)

Of course you can have Stay for Borky! I'm so excited to see what you do with one of my all time favorite songs and one of my all time favorite characters!

Everyone should go check out Maera's writing challenge as well, because it looks super awesome!

#ilanswers #ip theater challenge #ritesofreverie

[junova]

congratulations on your milestone lovely m!! you’re so deserving, and i’m so happy for you 💗✨💗

i’d love to participate in your writing challenge. i was thinking, college au! with love me till august? it’ll give me an excuse for some angst lol

once again, just so happy for you!! and i hope you’re doing good 💗

maera !!! you’re going to make me cry you’re so sweet 🥺💗✨ and yes pls bring the angst, love it !!! thank you for joining babe — i hope you’re doing amazing lovebug 💞✨💞

#msg rcvd ˖◛⁺⑅♡ #ritesofreverie