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volklana · 13 days

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I Could Drown Myself In Someone Like You

Part One

Title Comes From This Song:

You can find my other Biker!Bucky fic here:

Request: Hey girl I literally just found your blog and when I tell you I BINGED your Ride series. Please I beg could we have some more Biker Bucky? Maybe barmaid reader? I really don't mind as long as we get some BikerBuck!

Warnings: Mentions of unwanted physical attention. Future chapters will allude to past domestic abuse. If that isn't for you, please don't read, protect your peace and you can catch me next time xx

Bucky pulled his bike into the parking lot of his bar and grill.

A customer stepped outside to light a cigarette and the light from inside spilled out into the dark, along with the music playing inside.

Bucky was nothing if not a creature of habit, every night he would ride his bike through winding forest roads, down to the creek, and sometimes he would lay on the riverbank smoking cigarettes like he and Steve used to do when they were teenagers, before they’d gone to war, before he’d been fucked up. Before he became whatever this version of himself was.

And then in the evenings he’d pull up here to his bar and drink nearly not enough whisky to drown out the nightmares in his cabin behind the bar.

Sighing, he let himself into the bar. Steve as always was pouring drinks and chatting easily in that light hearted way he had, Bucky would have been envious if he hadn’t loved him so much. Steve had managed to hold on to all the best parts of himself, but Bucky’s were buried somewhere in a bunker in the Middle East, and even if he wanted to, he could never get them back.

Sam was busy flipping steaks at the grill and gave Bucky a wide eyed grin as Bucky passed him by and pushed the swing door into the back office.

He stilled all action at the sight of a girl in his office on top of his chair, on her tiptoes still unable to reach the top shelf as she fumbled to reach something.

“Can I help you?” he said gruffly and god damn if he didn’t startle you half to death and nearly cause you to fall off the chair.

“I’m looking for the grenadine syrup, Steve said I would find it up here.”

“Oh he did, did he?” Bucky laughed “And did he also tell you it was fine to climb all over my shit in the process?”

“No, Sir,” you offered meekly, stepping gently down off his chair “I’m sorry,” but you couldn’t fight the smile that was threatening to spread across your face.

Bucky huffed and reached over your head with ease, pressing the bottle of grenadine into your hand.

“Next time Steve sends you on a mission like that, tell him to pull his lazy, tall ass in here and reach the damn top shelf himself,”

You smiled up at him, and he felt the ghost of a butterfly in his stomach.

“I’m y/n,” you offered with a smile and he couldn’t help but return a lopsided one himself.

“Bucky,” he returned.

Bucky made your mouth water, his tight black jeans were ripped at the knees, and he wore a well worn leather jacket but it did absolutely nothing to hide his muscular frame, his hair was long and messy and was just begging for you to run your hands through it. You had to shake all thoughts of him from your head as you returned to your shift.

“What’s her story?” Bucky asked Steve, eyeing you as you made your rounds and he sipped on his whisky.

“Why do you assume she has a story?” Steve cocked his head now following you in his line of sight too.

“C’mon Steve, no one ends up here unless they have a story. They’re either running away from something, or someone. Or they’re on their way to somewhere else, and they’re simply stopping off here.”

“Bucky,” Steve sighed, clapping him on the back “You always assume the worst in people.”

“And they always prove me right,” Bucky countered while taking another sip.

As you finished mopping the floor, you made your way into the back office, looking shy, wringing your hands, nervously.

“What is it?” Bucky asked.

“Sam said to talk to you about if it would be okay to get this week’s wages upright,” Bucky could see straight away how embarrassed you were “Bucky I wouldn’t ask, but the bnb are asking for payment upright and I’m just 40 bucks short.”

Bucky was reaching into his wallet straight away and you tried to put out a hand to stop him.

“Please..Please,” Bucky shook his hand and handed you some notes, you scrunched your eyebrow at his kindness.

“Take this for tonight and I’ll get you your full wages for your shift tomorrow.”

“I’ll pay you back Sir,” you said, voice so low it was almost a whisper and he shook his head softly.

“Let me give you a ride back,” he offered and you shook your head profusely.

“You’ve done enough for me tonight,” you reminded him, notes in your hand, “I’ll see you tomorrow for my shift.”

Bucky watched you go, and again that ghost of a butterfly fluttered in his stomach and he grimaced uncomfortably.

Bucky watched you over the next few nights, always the first to your shift and always the last to leave.

And every night you refused any offer to drive you home from him, Sam or Steve.

He was filling out papers in his office when he heard a gentle knock and you were before him.

“I wanted to give you this,” you said meekly with some notes in your hand , “I can’t thank you enough Bucky.”

“Doll,” he sighed, surprising even himself with the nickname “Please keep it, consider it a welcome gift.”

“If it’s all the same I would like to give it back to you,” you smiled, placing it on his desk “It was awful kind of you and I’ll never forget it.”

Before he could even respond you had dipped out of his office and began your shift.

The bar went quiet when a particularly menacing looking gang wandered into the bar, and immediately Steve and Sam stood to attention, you were in the back fetching more pitchers.

They seemed to be scouting the area out before choosing a table at the opposite end of the bar to settle at.

Steve caught your arm as you went to take their orders “Be careful,” he nodded towards them and you went to take their orders gingerly.

Amid the wolf whistles and cat-calls you finally managed to take their orders, which you promptly relayed to Sam and Steve.

After you had successfully served their food and first round of drinks, you retreated to behind the bar before they summoned you back again.

“C’mere baby,” one of them slurred pulling you onto his lap.

You initially tried to laugh off how uncomfortable you were, but when he wouldn’t let you wrangle free, you felt trapped and felt your panic begin to rise.

“Let me go,” you tried weakly when he began to try kissing your face, trapping your hands in his much stronger ones, you tried to make pleading eye contact with Steve but he was nowhere to be seen.

As he let go of your hands to toy with the waistband of your denim jeans you finally managed to bolt free, but when he grabbed your arm and spun you around you reacted with a swift slap to his face, shocking even yourself, but you were in no way expecting the sharp sting of a returning slap, tears welling in your eyes and hand flying up instinctively to your burning skin.

Everything else passed by in a blur as you recognised Steve and Bucky kicking into action, you just about managed to get your feet to move before you were collapsing down behind the bar, feeling the all too familiar feeling of a panic attack ripping through your body and the awful sensation of not being able to breath.

It seemed like hours before Bucky was before you where you sat, rocking back and forward, hands covering your ears.

“Doll,” he tried and you cowered away from him, he got down on his hunkers and gingerly reached for you, “it’s me doll, it’s Bucky. Breathe for me. Breathe for me.”

When you finally felt like you could breathe again Bucky went to fetch a glass of water and leaned up against the counter, arms folded, he examined you over, eyes honing in on the red, swollen skin of your cheek.

“I’m so sorry Bucky,” you finally broke the silence, refusing to meet his eye.

“Hey,” he shushed, dropping down to his hunkers in front of you again “You have nothing to apologise for!”

You couldn’t help the tears that sprung to your eyes with shame and you wanted the ground to open up and swallow you whole.

You rolled your eyes and sniffed, “This was meant to be a fresh start, and it seems like trouble just follows me wherever I go.”

“What can I do doll?” Bucky said softly reaching out to put a reassuring hand on your knee, it was only then you realised his knuckles were bloody.

You realised with a startle that he had got his knuckles bloody for you.

“Can you take me home Buck,” you asked swiping your thumb over his knuckles, your silent thank you for the trouble they had gone to on your behalf.

Bucky pulled into the parking space of the bnb, and helped you take your motorcycle helmet off.

It had been weeks since you first reached town and Bucky was curious.

“What are you still doing here? You don’t want to find somewhere proper?”

“Nobody will rent to me,” you said sadly “I’ve tried everywhere. Even that shack out by the creek that’s been abandoned since before we were born. Nobody wants to rent to me because I’m an outsider.”

Bucky was suddenly angry at how the town had been treating you.

“Thank you for taking me home and I’m so sorry about tonight,” you said softly and Bucky turned to examine your face, thumb brushing over your cheekbone, your eyes fluttered closed at the touch and something jolted inside Bucky.

“You sure you’re okay?” he whispered and you nodded softly.

You stood gently on your tiptoes and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, “I’ll see you tomorrow Buck.”

Bucky tossed and turned all night. He had briefly fallen asleep only to once again be woken by a nightmare. The same one. That same bunker. That same chair. But then something unexpected, when he tried to close his eyes again, your eyes were staring back at him, and if he was honest that was what was keeping him awake. He knew he was in trouble….

“Keep your coat on y/n,” Bucky ordered as you arrived for your shift.

“What? Why?” you cried, fearing you were being let go, Bucky huffed a laugh at your horrified expression, “Doll, you’re not fired. We’re taking a little road trip.”

You climbed onto his bike and held on tight to his torso, winding through Californian redwoods, the mountain air all around you.

Bucky finally pulled onto a little dirt track that led up to an opening in the trees and a singular cabin stood against the backdrop of a small lake.

“Come on,” he motioned, removing your helmet, and leading you inside.

It was cosy, the living room and kitchen were open plan and there was an old cast iron log burner in the middle of the room with logs stacked either side of it.

There was one room off the side which you assumed was the bedroom.

“Well, what do you think?” Bucky asked motioning around.

“It’s beautiful Buck,” you said, still unsure why he had brought you here “It’s a beautiful home.”

“It’s yours,” Bucky stated simply, back turned to you and hands on his hips.

“What?” you almost shrieked and he replied in the same nonchalant tone “It’s yours!”

“Bucky, wait!” you deadpanned, catching his shoulder and forcing him to turn around to look at you, eyes scanning his face until he conceded.

“It was my Mom’s cottage, and seeing as she’s not here anymore and I’ve got my place at the bar, I think you should have it, you can’t stay at that bnb forever. You need a place of your own.Plus it’s about time some life was breathed back into this place ”

“Buck,” you cried, eyes watering, not letting go of your hold on him “Are you sure?”

“It’s yours doll,” he whispered, eyes flicking briefly down to your lips, “For as long as you choose to stay, and I hope you do stay, it’s yours,”

You extended your hand out to him “You take the rent out of my wages,” you ordered, waiting for him to shake on your deal.

“Doll,” he sighed “The place was lying empty, I'm not going to charge you rent,” you looked like you were about to argue when he stuck his hand out too, “Counter offer, if you do this place up. Make it somewhere lived in and beautiful. Somewhere my Ma would be proud to look down on, then we’re quits.”

You nodded and shook his hand ferociously, tears threatening to spill.

“Thank you Bucky,” you whispered, pulling him into a hug and relishing in the feel of his strong arms around you, and your heart hammered in your chest when he placed a gentle kiss on your head.

After a month or two of working at the bar you had saved enough to buy a second hand, beaten up old pickup truck, and Sam brought you out to pick it up.

“Are you sure you want this hunk of junk y/n?” he argued but you were enamored and being able to drive it home to your cabin filled you with an enormous amount of peace.

You had been growing closer and closer with Bucky, sometimes he would stop by on your days off to do some of the diy you pestered him about on your shifts and if you were honest you really enjoyed the company.

The first few nights on your own in the cabin had been nothing short of terrifying. You weren’t used to being alone and on the second night a huge storm knocked all your power out and you shivered in bed all night terrified of the darkness.

Bucky came around the next morning and fixed your generator so that would never happen again.

“There,” Bucky sighed “All done!”

You came to join him on the porch and passed him a bottle of beer and he flicked a switch and the fairy lights he had hung all around the cottage flickered to light.

“They’re beautiful Buck,” you smiled, hugging him tightly, eyes lighting up like a child as you looked up at them.

“Not as beautiful as you,” he said softly, hands coming to rest on your waist, and his breath on your neck made you shiver.

“Bucky,” you tried softly but he cut you off with a kiss. You melted into his touch completely and he gently became more ferocious in the way he clasped your body and kissed your lips.

He backed you through the open door of the cottage until you collapsed down on the sofa and he climbed on top of you, he was making quick work of your shirt when you finally came to your senses.

“Wait, Wait,” you panted, hands planting on his chest “Maybe we should slow down for a moment.”

“You want me to slow it down baby doll?” he panted and you nodded gently.

“I’m not ready Buck,” you cried and Bucky suddenly noticed how terrified you looked, feeling guilty that he had pushed you to a place you weren’t ready for yet.

“I can wait babygirl,” he promised, cupping your face in both of his hands “I can wait.”

“Bucky, no. No.” you cried, pushing him away with your leg and running your hands through your hair, “I can’t do this,” you cried.

Bucky sat still on your sofa not quite sure what to do for a moment “You don’t want this?”

You shook your head, tears springing to your eyes “It’s not that Buck, it's just I can’t be what you need right now. I can’t be with you like this.”

“What do you think I need?” he rose gently “All I need is you,” he countered

“Hey, hey, why are you crying?” he shushed brushing your hair behind your ears “Don’t cry.”

“Please Buck,” you were pleading, “Please can you just leave, I can't do this. It’s too much for me.”

Bucky was torn between wanting to assure you some more and respecting your request for him to leave. He hesitated just a moment too long for you to take it the wrong way completely, your eyes were wide and ferocious like an animal that had been cornered.

He scratched the back of his neck before he could find his voice “Doll, if I’ve read this wrong-”

“-You have,” you snapped “You’ve read this wrong and I need you to leave now, please,” you paced until you found his leather jacket hanging across the back of a chair and tossed it to him.

He couldn’t help the anger of rejection that rose up in his chest, and the shame for having read the situation so wrong.

“Fine. Fine. I’m going,” he sighed, pulling his jacket on and stomping towards the door.

“You know what..” he started one hand on the handle, but stopping to face you “Forget it,” he deadpanned, pulling the door open and slamming it behind him.

Work the next few days were less awkward than expected, Bucky and his bike were nowhere to be seen. You’d heard Steve mention to Sam that he was worried that Bucky was gone on another whisky fuelled bender and you couldn’t help the pang of guilt that gnawed away at your stomach.

Days turned into a week with no contact from Bucky and the guilt was eating you alive. You had texted him days ago to apologise, and asking if you could talk it out and explain, but he never replied. Not only were you angry with yourself for fucking everything up but now you were really beginning to worry.

You were closing the bar by yourself tonight, it was a quiet Tuesday night and business was slow. You knew Steve had a date after work so you dismissed him early so he could go buy her some flowers he’d kissed you on the cheek and almost skipped out of the bar.

It gave you the opportunity to pop your headphones in and listen to your music as you mopped and cleaned.

It was nice to do a deep a clean without Steve or Sam trying to hurry you out.

And as you made your way into the back office to put away the takings into the safe your heart almost fell out of your chest.

Bucky was laying back in his office chair, eyes squeezed shut while some girl with her skirt hitched up at the sides was grinding her hips on him, her own head thrown back in ecstasy as she rode him.

You froze on the spot, you couldn't help the way your stomach sank to your toes in a feeling of betrayal, or the way your eyes stung with tears.

Bucky wasn’t yours, you had seen to that with your stupidity the other night so you had no right to feel the way you were right now and when his electric eyes suddenly bore into yours with an expression you honestly couldn’t read you were backing out of his office quicker than lightning.

He followed you out into the carpark catching you just as you were about to climb into your truck.

“Doll,” he reached for you exasperated, “Doll wait, please.”

You turned to face him, tears rolling down your cheeks, and he reached for you gently, relieved when you didn’t bat him away as he cupped your face.

“I have no right to be crying,” you sighed.

“I don’t understand,” He stuttered, somewhere between annoyed and confused,” I thought you didn’t want me?”

“Bucky, of course I-” You were about to answer when Bucky’s name being yelled across the lot caught both of your attention.

“What the fuck is this?” The girl who had been with Bucky only moments before came storming over and smacked him straight across the face as hard as she could.

“You always fucking do this shit James,” she cried “This is the last fucking time.”

She looked at you genuinely hurt and for a moment you wanted to apologise, until her expression turned to contempt.

“Seriously, this is who you keep blowing me off for?” she huffed out a laugh, “Good luck with that, you’ll be crawling back to me in no time.” You felt yourself shrink down to half your size under her words.

She took one last seething glare at Bucky before smacking him again and he made no move to stop her, watching guiltily as she stormed away.

“I deserved that,” he said glumly, you made a face to argue when he cut you off, “No doll, I truly deserve it. Hell if you wanted to have a pop too I would understand.”

“Buck,I don’t want to slap you” you sighed and he ran a hand through his hair before kicking at the dirt.

“Then what the hell do you want y/n? Goddamn it.”

You were floundering like a fish out of water, trying to grasp at words and coming up short.

“You wouldn’t understand,” you tried and he cut you off with a pointed finger.

“Don’t give me that shit,” he warned “You literally could not throw me out faster the other day and then you turn up crying when I’m clearly fucking trying to get over you so what is it? You don’t want me but you don’t want anyone else to have me?”

“No,” you scoffed, your own anger rising now too.

“No” he repeated exasperatedly, “So what do you want?”

“I- I don’t know,” you mumbled.

“You don’t know?” he goaded and goddamn was he intimidating, looking at you like a predator stalks his prey, waiting for an answer to pounce “Well, I sure as shit can’t figure that out for you sweetheart,” he sighed, running the back of his hand across his lips, before spitting on the ground.

You were not used to this Bucky, this agitated, whiskey drunk version of him. The one most people were used to. But not you.

“Look, just go,” he sighed eventually, the tension between you thick enough to cut with a knife.

“I don’t know what you want, but it sure as shit ain’t me. And I'm done with whatever the fuck this is.”

You could hear your heart pounding in your ears, tears welling in your eyes as you reached for the handle of your truck door and pulled it open, gasping back in fright when Bucky slammed it closed suddenly, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He looked like he was going to yell at you but nothing could have prepared you for what came next.

“Don’t go,” he pleaded. “Please don’t go,”

Trapped between his body and the door of your truck you melted into his touch, whimpering as he leaned forward to capture your lips with his own demanding ones.

Tagging:

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#bucky x reader #biker!bucky #bucky x you #bucky barnes #bucky x reader angst #bucky barnes au #biker #volklana writes

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katyaromanoffpetrova · 2 months

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It's Lights Out And Away We Go

Natasha isn't the only one obsessed with the motorcycle her wife got her. Turns out it's perfect for knocking Katya's ego down a notch as well.

- Natasha Romanoff x Fem!OC (Katya Petrova from the Forgotten Ghost Series) - Wordcount: 1.4k - No warnings :) Masterlist

A/N: thank you @milfs69420 for the idea! Hope this is what you had in mind :)

Most men had a motorcycle to escape their wives, let's be honest. A reason to hide in the garage and go out for long drives. A hobby "for themselves" that their wives hated.

Natasha was the opposite. While she loved riding her bike instead of the car when the weather was nice, she didn't often go touring just for fun. Not alone, at least. After an hour, she was bored and missed her partner.

But every now and then, it was a nice way to clear her head. The weather was beautiful today and Katya was at work, so she'd taken the opportunity to pull her shiny new motorcycle out of the garage, driving aimlessly until her fuel meter flickered red.

Pulling up at a gas station, Natasha turned her engine off and kicked out the stand. A group of bikers—black leather, long beards, broad-shouldered—watched her from a distance, half of them mounted on their bikes, half enjoying the shadows of the small gas station store. They were intimidating to most, the reputation of biker gangs not helping their image, but Natasha wasn't bothered, twisting the fuel tank cap by her seat off.

Her helmet gave her a sense of anonymity on the streets that she didn't often get to experience otherwise. While her long red braid peeked out from underneath, she wasn't immediately seen as Natasha the Avenger. Right now, she was just a woman, dressed in black, on a very, very nice motorcycle.

"Nice bike!"

She looked up from the fuel nozzle in her hand, her visor popped open just enough to see, but not enough to get recognized. One of the bikers had called out to her, an appreciative smile on his bearded face. It wasn't the first time people gave her bike hearteyes, and it wouldn't be the last.

"Thanks!"

As expected, he came over to her, leaving his helmet on his motorcycle. Men could never resist something pretty. "How fast does she go?" He asked. His plaid shirt was tight around his thick arms, his leather vest worn in as he held onto it. He looked nice enough.

"Do they ever go fast enough?" Natasha joked, hearing Katya's warning voice in her head that yes, the bike could definitely go too fast.

A deep laugh rumbled in his chest. "No, they don't." Now that he stood closer, he gave her bike another thorough once-over, nodding appreciatively. "You take good care of her, she's like new."

"She is still pretty new," Natasha answered. Talking to strangers wasn't usually her favorite, but he had genuine interest in something she was proud of and enthusiastic about, so she was happy to chat. "It was a gift."

"A gift?" The man whistled through his teeth. "You must have done something right."

Natasha grinned. "You'll have to ask my wife."

It's a good thing her mouth was covered by her helmet, because her smile showed exactly how she felt about that wife of hers. To be safe, she averted her shimmering eyes too, watching the numbers on the pump climb as the gas poured into her tank.

"Your wife?" The man exclaimed with a disbelieving laugh, his beer belly shaking. Clearly he wasn't used to wives being supportive of this hobby. "You're a lucky woman. I wish my wife was into this."

"She's not. Not really. But she knows that I am." Natasha pulled the fuel nozzle out of the tank, careful not to scratch the paint. He must be hearing the fondness in her voice as she spoke of Katya. "Cars are her thing."

"Then she did her research, because this is a beauty. Don't often see rare ones like these." Once more, his eyes glided over the bike, trying to take in every detail.

"Yeah, sometimes in life you get lucky, I guess," Natasha joked.

"Some more than others." He laughed, offering her his gloved hand. "I'm Rufus by the way."

"Natasha." She smiled, firmly shaking his hand. It almost engulfed hers. This was such a normal, human interaction. A stranger who talked to her just because they both loved the same things. It was so refreshing and unusual.

"If you'd ever want to join us, it'd be great to have you. It's just us men today, but we have women riding with us too." Rufus followed her gaze to his buddies who were too busy joking with each other. "Promise they aren't half as bad as they look."

Natasha didn't expect to feel excited at his offer. This man had no clue who she was, but he hoped she'd stick around for her personality and shared interests alone. She couldn't wait to tell Katya this. "Thank you."

Rufus nodded once. "I'll let you get on your way." His heavy boots took a step back to make space when she kicked up the bike stand. "Thank you for blessing us with this today."

"You're welcome," Natasha mused proudly, turning the key over in the ignition. With a roar, the engine came to life, and she heard Rufus's delighted groan over the rumbling. For good measure, she revved the engine a few times, grinning widely as she shut her visor and shot away from the gas station.

As Natasha lazily weaved in and out of traffic, she couldn't stop smiling. Her interaction with Rufus was such a stupid thing to be excited about. Someone complimented her motorcycle, how exceptional! But it was way more than that.

Rufus made her feel wanted and welcome. He invited her to join them. Someone wanted to be her friend for the simple fact that they had the same hobby, not because she was useful or famous. And she was as giddy about that as a kid getting an invite for a classmate's birthday party.

He'd also unintentionally reminded her of just how privileged she was. An expensive motorcycle between her thighs, the money she and Kat had to get themselves these nice things, but most of all a supportive wife who bought her the bike. It wasn't a given to have a partner like that.

The butterflies in her stomach fluttered happily thinking about her happy, good little life.

Fifteen minutes from home, something colorful caught Natasha's eye in the distance. It was hard to tell because of the reflecting sunlight on all the car roofs, but as she came closer, she could start to make out the distinctive orange color between the rest of traffic.

Slowly, she came closer, squinting her eyes trying to make out the number plate, but it should have been pretty obvious that it was who she thought it was. Who in New York had the exact same car, in that color, and managed to drive it that shitty?

With a smirk, she sat up and called Katya, hearing the call connect through the earbuds in her ears.

"Hi! I'm almost home."

"I know." Natasha smirked, now only four cars behind.

There was a short pause as Katya processed that answer. "Are you stalking me?" She accused her with a chuckle. Right then, Natasha merged behind her car, weaving slowly to pull Katya's attention to her rearview mirror. She knew it worked when a gasp came through the phone. "Oh, hey!"

"Hello," Natasha mused, speeding up until she drove next to Katya's window, giving her a small wave. "Fancy seeing you here."

Katya stared at her for longer than was safe. "It has to be illegal for you to drive around on that thing. You're a distraction to all the other drivers."

"Is that why you drive like a drunk grandma?" Natasha saw her scowl through the window.

"Take that back."

Natasha's sly smile widened. "I'll take it back if you press your foot on the gas pedal."

"I can beat you home if I wanted to."

"Bet."

"Bet." Katya adjusted her seat, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter. "We start at the next sign post."

Natasha pressed her chest closer to her motorcycle, wrapping her fingers securely around the handles. "Enjoy the view off my ass, because that's what you're going to be looking at the whole way home."

"Prepare to have it beaten."

It was a losing game for Katya. Natasha was the better driver and she had a more agile vehicle that crept into places the car couldn't. By the time she pulled up on the driveway at home, Natasha had already parked her bike inside and pretended to wait impatiently on the porch.

Katya woke up the next day to find a sticker on her car.

"Warning: Slow moving vehicle."

#katandnat #natasha romanoff #forgotten ghost series #natasha romanoff fanfiction #natasha romanoff x fem!oc #natasha romanoff oneshot #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff drabble #natasha romanoff fluff

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bettyfrommars · 2 months

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Ring of Fire

a biker Steve au

Part 2: More Than Words

masterlist playlist

18+ONLY, MDNI, longing, friends to strangers to lovers, mature themes, mention of sex work and violence, reader has secrets, so does Steve, eventual smut, dirty deeds, biker!Hopper. It's the mid 90's and Steve is in his early 30's.

word count: 4.3k

Summary: Getting to know the town of Hawkeye, including Munson's Garage and Patsy's diner. Steve has dreams of another life he never lived. Reader has dreams of Steve. Hopper spends his spare time looking out for Lorelei.

A/N: There will be references to I'm on Fire in the first part of this chapter by way of dreams, but it is not a crucial plot point to the story, just in case you are not familiar with the other series. I keep wanting to bring more of the places/people in from IoF, but every time I do, this Steve morphs into the old one, and I love the idea of exploring him this way, without the other backstory.

Morning cracked open through your blinds, a bright sun void of warmth. Rolling to face the wall on your floor mattress, you curled the lemon-yellow comforter up over your head, only to be bludgeoned by the onslaught of birds tweeting outside your window.

A motorcycle grumbled by on the street below and you were officially awake.

There was a kitchenette in your apartment, but you didn’t have a coffee maker or grounds yet. The diner opened at 6am on weekends, and that is where you planned to go. You considered throwing a coat on and shuffling over in your pajamas, but ended up pulling on a change of wardrobe that did not match and a shirt that was inside out.

7:30 was far too early for clever dressing.

The sky matched the color of the pavement by the time you stepped out onto the sidewalk, now that the sun had been obscured by hulking clouds. You pulled the hood of your sweatshirt up as a soft drizzle misted your skin, waiting for a big truck to pass before making your way across the street.

One block over and two blocks down was the red and white sign for Patsy’s Diner. You spotted it just as the rain fell unyielding, your feet picking up the pace.

There were three cars in the slant street parking out front, including a big black Chevy truck with a square body style from the early 70’s.

You didn’t see Steve until it was too late. Not until you locked eyes through the diner window.

—-----

Steve picked Robin up every Saturday morning to have breakfast at Patsy’s, which had been their ritual for almost a decade. There’d been a couple exceptions, including the months Robin was locked up for voluntarily taking the fall for the weed possession for one of her girlfriends, and a few when Steve had been out of town on a run with the Coffin Kings. Other than that, even with the worst head-splitting hangover, they never missed it.

Robin threw her leather jacket into the booth first before she slid in wearing paint-splattered overalls over a baggy tee with the band Heart on the front. Her warm golden hair was long, passed her shoulders, and worn in a low ponytail, exposing the “lover” tattoo inked in cursive just under her ear.

Their booth was right at the front corner of the L-shaped diner, next to the window. Steve had even carved their initials under the table at one point with his old utility knife. The booths were burnt sienna vinyl that were so worn at the seat that they were ripped in places, exposing the gauzy innards. The waitress Jeanette collected steaming plates from the kitchen hatch to carry to another table while Sharon, her co-worker, brought over a steaming pot of coffee and two stout, brown mugs.

Steve rolled a toothpick around in his mouth from side to side as he held open the laminated menu to look it over, even though he could read the whole thing with his eyes closed.

“Rough night?” Robin asked while she concentrated on stirring three spoons of sugar and a hearty dollop of cream into her coffee.

Steve didn’t look up from the menu. “How could you tell?”

Between the raw strawberry on his knuckles and the dark purple half moons under his eyes, he knew the answer was obvious.

“Your hair looks like it’s trying to evacuate your scalp.”

She waited for him to start combing the mess back with his fingers to give a soft chuckle.

Steve let the menu go flat on the table and palmed the rim of his black coffee to pull it closer. “I had another one of those dreams last night.”

His best friend’s eyes snapped up, but then Jeanette was there to take their order and the conversation had to pause while Steve got his standard hotcakes with bacon, and Robin her omelet with hash browns and sourdough toast. They exchanged a few pleasantries, since Jeanette had worked there as long as the two of them had been alive, and then Robin settled back in her seat with a weary huff.

Steve felt like he had to remind himself to blink, his eyes were so dry. He stared out the window as he spoke. “I had a kid, a little boy.”

Robin leaned forward to rest her forearms on the table. “Was I his mother in this one? These dreams of yours freak me out. I can’t imagine being someone’s mother, like, not ever.”

“You were a really good one though,” a hesitant smile quivered on his lips. “You helped me raise him even though he wasn’t biologically yours. But in the dream last night I—”

Every time he woke up from those particular dreams, he mourned the loss of a child he never had.

He cut off what he was about to say as the memory of the love he felt in his dream hit him like a wave. “Last night I was about to get married to some woman, and we had a baby on the way. My baby.”

She was about to crack a joke, but then thought better of it. “I know what it feels like. To have the kind of dreams you don’t want to wake up from. Who in the hell would want to wake up to our lives.”

“Wayne is healthy though,” Steve nodded to himself, trying to find the positives. “In these dreams he’s…sick or something, and I’m always worried he's not going to live much longer.”

“The apocalypse couldn’t kill Wayne,” she smiled. “Old man will outlive all of us.”

The food came, and the topic of conversation changed, until Robin shoved a bite into her cheek. “What was his name? Your son?”

“His name was Oliver,” Steve held a strip of bacon out, not ready to take a bite yet.

Robin bobbed her head a few times. “That’s a good name,” and then, “you want to talk about what happened last night?”

“Same old shit,” he huffed, slapping a few crumbs off his black tee while he chewed. “Hop and I were called out to the junkyard and—”

There you were again, like another dream he was bound to wake up from.

Robin was concentrating on shoveling a particularly big bite into her mouth, so she didn’t know why he’d gone so quiet, until she followed his line of sight.

You stepped inside, wiping the rain off your face, but you kept your hood on while you waited for a waitress to greet you. Inside the diner was cozy, wall to wall carpeted a teddy bear brown, and smelled of cooked meats, coffee, and syrup. It made your mouth water, and you wondered if you should splurge on something as frivolous as eating out.

Jeanette tried offering to seat you at the bar, but you were adamant that you’d take a brew and some sugars to go. Also a toasted bagel, you added that in at the last second.

“You want egg on that, honey?” Jeanette asked, nestling her pen in the curly silver hair above her ear.

Peeking out from the side of your hood, you noticed Steve lifting up to get a better look at you from his window booth. “No, plain is fine, thank you.”

“Who is that?” Robin asked, wiping her mouth as she turned around in her seat to get a look at you.

“No one. Someone I knew in middle school,” Steve mumbled, hacking into his stack of pancakes with the side of his fork. “She’s the new renter above Donna’s place.”

“Huh,” Robin turned her attention back to her plate. “Why do you look so flustered?”

You were standing at the door, watching the rain come down in sheets, when you felt a warm body sink in behind you.

“You need a ride back?” It was Steve with his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “It looks pretty…wet out there.”

When you turned to face him, you brushed some forgotten crumbs off of his chest with your hand. It was a very familiar gesture, one that neither of you thought too much about until much later that day.

You were about to decline, but it was the integrity of your bagel that concerned you. Jeanette brought you the big to-go cup and warm bread in a paper bag.

“I don’t mind getting wet, just as long as you aren’t here on your bike.”

—------

Steve ran over to tell his companion to sit tight while he drove you the 3 blocks home. His friend waved at you from her seat, and you gave a tentative wave back. More like just holding your hand up in the air actually, something of a Spok greeting.

“I don’t want to interrupt you—”

“She’s fine,” Steve assured, lifting his jacket up to hold over your head as the two of you pushed through the door and into the frey. “This will only take a minute.”

Hunkering down in your hood, you jerked the heavy metal door of his ‘78 Chevy pickup open, and then spread yourself long across the bench seat to reach over and pop the lock on his door.

Rain dripping down his face, Steve watched your two fingers pluck the lock up, and it was a small gesture to most, but a tender one for him. Even his ex-girlfriend hadn’t afforded him that, not once.

You weren’t his girlfriend though, you were barely a friend. An acquaintance he’d fantasized about in his formative years.

Once you were both under shelter in the dry cab, you glanced up through the windshield and saw Robin keeping an eye on the two of you from her place at the window. Even through the visual distortion from the rain, you could make out a soft smile lingering, perking up her cheeks.

The interior smelled like him: old leather, cigarettes, and the yellow, vanilla, tree-shaped freshener hanging from the volume knob on his radio.

“Sorry if it stinks in here,” he reached down to swat the ashtray closed that was full of smoked filters. “I need to clean that out.”

“Are you familiar with the dumpsters in the alley behind Donna’s place?”

He nodded yes as he put the key in the ignition.

“Well, they are right under my bedroom window, and I have no air conditioning. I’m looking forward to how my place will smell in the dead of summer.”

The truck grumbled to life and he anchored his arm around the seat to turn and see where he was going as he backed up. “You just need one of those air conditioning units that fits in the window. I know a guy, I’ll get you one.”

You hadn’t been fishing for help but, “that’s really nice of you, thanks.” His offer made you feel small for a second.

Less than a minute later, you were at your place. He pulled in as close as he could to the awning without crashing into the cement structure.

Not many words were exchanged as you got out, just a few mumbles of “thank you” and “good to see you”, but then you were out and slamming his heavy door shut to hurry inside. He waited out there for a few beats, wishing he would’ve said more before coasting back to the diner.

—---

Later that day, as the sun faded to a collage of pink orange behind the low hills, Hopper sat on his Harley in the parking lot of the Rosebud Motel.

The amount of time spent waiting there, watching the door to room 11 might have sounded absurd to some, but he knew that no one could look after her like he could.

He’d read about a trucker in the news who was paying women for sex and then hurting them. A few of the girls were missing, and foul play was suspected, but no one cared about the victims enough to investigate much. Most of Lorelei’s clientele were locals; lonely hired hands and married men, but there were always transient travelers looking for some company when they passed through town. Those were the ones he was concerned about.

The door to her room opened just as he lit a fresh cigarette. The guy that stepped out was pushing 70, adjusting his suspenders over his shoulders. She stayed in the doorway, covered in one of her satin robes, and kissed him on the cheek. Her appointments weren’t always about sex. Some were, for sure, and those he preferred not to think about, but a lot were touched starved hermits who craved conversation and a shoulder rub from a beautiful woman. A few liked to worship her feet. One guy preferred to feed her ice cream while they watched Cheers reruns on the bed together. Bottom line, nothing she shared surprised him any more.

The local customers knew that Hopper was her watchdog, and they’d be too afraid to cross a line with her, even if they wanted to.

Hopper had not yet been intimate with Lorelei though; not even a kiss.

For years, he’d managed to keep it platonic, ever since she hired him to be her driver and bodyguard for a date with a new customer she wasn’t yet comfortable with. He’d known that same night that he wanted to be with her, but he also knew he wasn’t special, that she saw him as a bit of a necessary evil to keep the bad man away.

But, Hopper was a bad man who had done many bad things. She deserved better.

He would protect her with his life at the drop of a hat.

Ned, the guy in the suspenders, shuffled to his Chrysler LeBaron, and then Lorelei turned to smile and wave at Hopper.

He fixed his hair, slicking it back on each side, squinting as he plucked the last of his smoke from between his lips, tossing it to the pavement before adjusting his Coffin Kings cut to wave back.

—----

The rain was off and on all day, until the night shadows snuffed it out, allowing only a damp mist to remain. Earlier, you’d found a coffee maker at the thrift store, and when you still couldn’t sleep at midnight, you decided to caffeinate yourself to see if it counteracted your awakeness and made you sleepy. Not much logic to it, but still, there it was.

Deciding to go out for a walk, you zipped your jacket up and headed out, down along the dumpster alley, and out into the street that led to the park. The playground equipment sat so ominously motionless, the empty expanse felt eerie for a moment as you made your way over to the swings, hands shoved deep into your pockets.

You grabbed onto the chain, sitting in the teal plastic seat. Beneath you, the ground was worn into a large divot where years of dragging feet had been. You remember sitting on the same swig when you were a little kid and your feet couldn’t reach the dirt.

“Do you want to be alone?” His voice came out of nowhere, making your head turn so fast you almost kinked your neck.

You saw the plume of cigarette smoke before you saw him. He was cloaked in darkness, but there was something about his shape, the way he sauntered forward.

“Steve?”

“Miss me?”

You took a deep breath, attempting to slow your heart rate. “What are you doing out here?”

“I was just wondering the same thing about you,” he came fully into view then, illuminated by the full moon through the tree boughs. “This is my park.”

“Oh,” you looked around with mock surprise. “You own this whole park? You did well for yourself.”

With a flick of ash from his cig, he sank down into the swing next to you, chains clinking against the aluminum bracing as he did so. His hair curled at the base of his neck, the thick top part flopping to one side as he raked a hand through it. He was wearing that same type of v-neck shirt under his leather jacket to give a peak of his chest hair and tattoos, as if he knew you’d be looking. As if he’d known he’d run into you.

He smirked. “When Eddie and I were kids, we lived in that trailer park a few blocks that way,” he nodded over his shoulder. “We spent a lot of time here. Any excuse to get out of the house.”

He extended the pack of cigarettes out to offer you one, but you declined that time. “What were you out here doing tonight though?” You pressed.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he grumbled a laugh. “Decided to go for a ride. You?”

“Same, with the not being able to sleep thing. In the city there is more to do but not many options here.”

“Tell me about it,” he scoffed.

You shared a silence then, one that did not feel empty or awkward, but then he looked up at the sky that was clear and bright with stars.

“Do you wanna get out of here? Go for a ride?”

It took you a full minute to answer, but it was not a hesitance based on uncertainty. It was hesitance based on wondering if Steve knew what he was getting himself into with a girl like you.

“Where are we going? New Mexico?”

He shrugged, making eye contact again. “We could. If that’s what you want.”

You ran your tongue along the tips of your teeth, waiting for him to come over and take your hand to help you out of the seat. He pulled you up so fast, your chests crashed together, your mouths inches apart.

“I want to show you something,” he said, brushing his lips against yours.

—-

When you blinked awake the next morning, you realized that meeting Steve on the playground had been a dream. You let the weight of its loss sink in as you rubbed sleep from your eyes, fumbling for the key around your neck as if you might’ve misplaced it in another dimension.

On the other side of town, Steve revved his bike to life in the garage of the picket fence house he’d been renting from Eddie Munson. Eddie’s ex Melanie left him high and dry with a mortgage on his hands, and he was quick to offer it to his friend when he had nowhere to go. Steve took care of the small lawn, and did any repairs with money from his own pocket. He didn’t really care about the quaint seaside bungalow look of it—the garage was all that mattered to him. He could keep his bike in there and fix up project cars when he had the means.

He was running late, so he took the shortcut through the back alleyways of town.

Or maybe he knew he’d be on time, he just wanted to cruise by your apartment and see if he could get a glimpse of you.

Coffee was brewing in the office at Munson’s Garage when he got there and from behind the desk, Robin looked surprised.

“You’re almost a half hour early,” she dropped her attention to the papers she was organizing. “Did you get any sleep at all?”

“I slept great actually,” he lied, pulling a styrofoam cup off the stack to fill it with steaming brew. “At least five hours.”

“No shit,” she returned under her breath. “If you’re ready to clock in, Eddie has that Plymouth up on the lift for you to take a look at. The owner wants to pick it up this afternoon.”

She stood to hand Steve a sheet of paper as she spoke. “A few vehicles are coming in to get serviced at 9. Eddie has to pick up a tow in Everett, so it’s just you and Hopper today.”

Through the window over Robin’s head, Steve could see the inside of the garage and Hopper leaning against a tall, red tool caddy to have a smoke. He bucked his chin at Steve when he caught his eye.

A few hours into the daily grind, Steve was murmuring the lyrics to the song More Than Words by Extreme while he was on the creeper under a car, thankful for Hopper’s presence since he really didn’t give a shit about the music. Eddie though? His tastes were very particular, and they usually had to flip a coin. When Steve won the toss, Eddie grumbled around the bay all day, rolling his eyes at Steve’s enthusiasm for Prince’s entire discography.

Hopper kicked Steve’s foot to get his attention.

“What’s up man?” Steve grunted, continuing to work.

“Protection run tonight with Bones and a few of the others. Are you coming?” Hopper had on cement gray coveralls and pulled a red rag from his back pocket to wipe carburetor fluid off his hands.

Steve stopped what he was doing and used his legs to inch out from under the Pontiac Firebird. He’d scratched his neck several times and wiped his eye, so there were dark smudges in those spots. A protection run was when members of the Coffin Kings went along to escort precious, most likely illegal, cargo across state lines.

Steve didn’t answer, so Hopper continued. “Sounds like we’ll each be getting a couple grand a head.”

A couple grand? For a few hours of work when he wouldn’t be sleeping anyway? Oh yeah, Steve was going on the protection run, no matter the risks.

“Steve?” The voice belonged to someone else at that time. Someone who sounded a lot like you.

Steve sat up on the creeper and fiddled with the wrench in his hand, sure that it was only Robin and he was just hearing things.

But, there you were, stepping into the garage from the parking lot with what appeared to be a casserole dish in your hands.

“Um, hi, you—um,” Steve got to his feet after a clumsy shuffle with the creeper, wiping his hands off as well as he could on his jeans.

“I brought you some lunch,” flustered, you realized it was past noon and surely he’d had lunch already. “Or dinner, whichever. As a thank you for driving me home yesterday.”

Hopper looked from Steve to you and then back to you again before excusing himself to the other side of the garage.

Robin hurried to spy on the conversation from the air conditioned privacy in the office.

“For me?” He wasn’t trying to be obtuse, he was genuinely confused.

“Well,” you steadied the ceramic dish in your hands, glancing around. “Or whoever else might want some. It’s lasagna. My mom’s recipe. I made some for myself earlier and just thought you might…um…do you like lasagna?”

“Sure,” he reached out to take it from you. “Who doesn’t like lasagna?”

The words were there, but you couldn’t read the expression on his face. The scowl lines in his forehead and the down-turned side of his mouth told you that he was repulsed by all of it: the lasagna, you, everything.

Steve was speechless. Not for lack of words, but more an abundance of them. The last time anyone had cared to make something for him was his grandmother before she passed. Robin had made him dinner a handful of times, but that was different. Still, all he could do was stare at the tin foil cover and wet his lips.

Your brain raced. “If it’s too much, I can take it back?”

“No,” Steve moved the dish away as if to protect it from your reaching hands. “I’ll make sure to clean the dish when I’m done and get it back to you.”

“Don’t worry about it,” you shuffled back, turning on your heel to beeline for your car as fast as you could.

We were going to run away to New Mexico together, remember?

A few other Coffin Kings had just pulled into the parking lot, and with narrowed eyes, Steve noticed that they were all watching you walk away.

Fuckers.

He struggled to find a place to put the blue dish down, and finally settled on the concrete, so he could head off after you at a jog.

“Hey,” he caught your arm, moving with purpose to block their leering view of you. “Is that your car? Let me walk you over there,” pointing to the yellow Dodge Omni parked under the awning.

You moved a few steps, so did he, and then you eyed him suspiciously. “What’s going on?”

One of the Kings whistled their approval of you, and Steve gnashed his teeth.

“Nothings going on, I just wanted to make sure you know how grateful I am. For coming over here. With the food. For bringing me food.”

You tried to see where the whistle had come from, but Steve darted to the side to block your view.

God, he was blowing it. What a tool.

You wanted to tell him about the dream you had, but right then didn’t feel like a good time.

“I have to get back to work,” you looked at your hands, and then lifted them to the heartbeat in his tan throat, and eventually up to his full lips. “See you later?”

He reached out as if he might hug you, but then put his arms down again, slapping them to his sides. “Hey, are you busy tomorrow night?”

“I work during the day, but otherwise I’m never busy,” you swallowed, avoiding his gaze.

“Do you want to get out of here? Go for a ride?”

But then, your eyes snapped up at the familiarity of the questioning.

“There’s something I want to show you,” he added.

----

Thank you so much to my readers, I love you and love to hear what you think.

#Steve Harrington #Steve Harrington au #biker!Steve #biker Steve Harrington #biker!Hopper #Ring of Fire #Steve Harrington fic #Steve Harrington series #Steve Harrington smut #biker au

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catmaidetho · 9 months

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crow's danger days au design party

hi! to celebrate reaching 200 followers, i'm hosting a design party for my life series danger days au!

what's that mean? beneath the readmore on this post will be a set of written descriptions for the cast of the au. anyone who wants can then draw what they think those characters look like!

do i have to draw all of them? nope! only do the ones you want!

is there a time-limit on this? also no! whenever you've got the time to do it, go for it!

what even is danger days? IM SO GLAD YOU ASKED! danger days is the 4th (and final) studio album by american rock band my chemical romance! it was a concept album, which can be seen in the music videos for nanana and sing. there's also a tie-in comic book series, danger days california. so if you're struggling for inspiration, i suggest watching those music videos or taking a look at the aesthetic of the comic!

if you're participating, please @ me in your finished pieces! :D

characters

these are the main characters featured in my current wip---the extended cast (as well as some picrews/art i've done of some of them) are in this google drive here. go nuts!! :D

Etho (they/them) Etho is a tall, lanky androgyne, and the tallest in their crew. They have unnaturally white hair with dirty blond roots that they keep longer on the top and shaved close on the sides. Their eyes are an unsettlingly dark shade of brown, bordering on black. They wear a black tank top, dark gray camo-patterned cargo pants (the pockets are full of wires and plastic scrap), well-worn black combat boots, and a heavy green jacket that reaches their thighs. They also wear fingerless leather gloves, protective goggles, and a tool belt that their raygun and other extra tools hang from. They wear a black gas mask on the bottom half of their face nearly 24/7.

Small Beans (he/him) Small Beans is considerably shorter than Etho, and the shortest in his crew. He has half-brown, half-green hair that is unkempt at best and a rat's nest at worst. His eyes are a dull green. He wears a black bleach-dyed t-shirt, ill-fitting and ripped light-wash blue jeans, brown work boots with yellow laces, and a vibrant pink leather jacket with spikes on the shoulders and a myriad of patches. He often steals Etho's leather gloves when they aren't looking, although does own a pair of their own fingerless gloves that have been painted with hand bones.

The Scar (he/him) The Scar is slightly shorter than Etho, and somehow manages to be quite buff. He has well-kept, short brown hair. His eyes are deep green. He has more scars on his skin than can be counted, mostly healed sunburns and raygun shots. Before he joined Etho's crew, he was often seen wearing burgundy slacks and a white, short-sleeved button up shirt. After joining Etho's crew, his outfit completely changed to a skin-tight, short-sleeve black shirt with a triangle cut-out on his chest, black leather pants, surprisingly well kept black boots with mismatched orange and teal laces, and a half-orange-half-teal windbreaker. He is the only member of the crew to never lose his sunglasses.

Pesky Bird (he/she) Pesky Bird is somewhat taller than Small Beans. He has a decently-kept mop of blond hair. Her eyes are rich, chocolate brown. He wears a white t-shirt, straight-fit blue jeans, boots that may have been black once but are heavily faded by the sun and wear, and a bright red leather motorcross jacket with a large patch on the back of parrot wings. She also has a matching biker helmet.

the extended cast can be found in this google drive!

#khaos.txt #danger days au design party #danger days au

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litmusblogs · 8 months

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Son of Anarchy Leather Jacket & Vest:

Introduction of Son of Anarchy Leather Jacket & Vest:

From the gritty streets of Charming to the screens of television sets, “Sons of Anarchy” captivated audiences with its compelling storytelling and unforgettable characters. One of the iconic elements of the show was the leather attire worn by the members of the outlaw motorcycle club. In this blog post, we will delve into the world of Sons of Anarchy leather jackets and vests, exploring their history, design features, and the enduring appeal they hold for fans and fashion enthusiasts alike.

1. The Origin and Influence of Sons of Anarchy

2. The birth of an outlaw: A brief introduction to the Sons of Anarchy television series.

3. The outlaw biker culture: Exploring the history and significance of leather jackets in motorcycle clubs.

4. The impact of Sons of Anarchy: How the show revolutionized the portrayal of biker culture on television.

Design and Features:

1. The classic leather jacket: Unveiling the iconic design of the Sons of Anarchy jacket.

2.Quality materials: The importance of genuine leather for authenticity and durability.

Bold patches and logos: The club insignia and logos that make a statement.

Functional details: Zippers, pockets, and other elements for practicality and style.

2. The rebellious vest: Exploring the distinctive features of the Sons of Anarchy leather vest.

Sleeveless style: The vest’s unique design and its significance within biker culture.

Patchwork and customization: The freedom of personal expression through patches and embroidery.

The “cuts” tradition: Understanding the historical context of biker vests and their role in club identification.

The Allure and Enduring Popularity:

1. Connecting with the outlaw spirit: How the Sons of Anarchy leather jacket and vest resonate with fans.

2. Fashion beyond the screen: The influence of the show on biker fashion and pop culture.

3. Timeless appeal: The staying power of the Sons of Anarchy leather attire in contemporary fashion.

Versatility in styling: The jacket and vest as versatile wardrobe staples.

Unisex fashion: Breaking gender norms and embracing inclusivity.

Nostalgia and collectibility: The appeal of owning a piece of television history.

Embracing the Style:

1. Finding an authentic piece: Tips for sourcing genuine Sons of Anarchy leather jackets and vests.

2. Customization and personalization: Adding a touch of individuality to your attire.

3. Styling tips and inspiration: How to incorporate the Sons of Anarchy leather jacket and vest into your everyday wardrobe.

Conclusion:

In the world of television fashion, few pieces have achieved the iconic status of the Sons of Anarchy leather jacket and vest. These garments not only represent the rebellious spirit of the show but have also become timeless symbols of style and individuality. Whether you’re a fan of the series or simply appreciate the rugged allure of biker fashion, the Sons of Anarchy leather jacket and vest offer a connection to a rich cultural history. By donning these pieces, you join a long tradition of rebels and outlaws, making a statement and embracing the spirit of freedom.

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eddimunctume · 1 year

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A popular shoe style worn by many Stranger Things characters is the Reebok Classic Leather sneakers. Eleven wears these kicks throughout the series, as well as Will Byers.

While these classic sneakers may be a bit pricey, you can recreate this look for much less. Instead of wearing a pair of Reeboks, pick out a pair of white high-top Chuck Taylors.eddie munson costume

Biker Rings When fans first met Eddie Munson in Stranger Things Season 4, they quickly fell in love with him. The character is a fan favorite for his chaotic and often erratic personality.

He's also known for being a fan of music and heavy metal. He wears a leather jacket underneath a denim vest that has patches of Megadeth, Motorhead, Iron Maiden and the Leviathan Cross.

He has a variety of tattoos on his arms. One of his forearms has a swarm of bats, and another shows a demon being controlled by a puppet.

Wig When you’re going all out to be the star of Halloween this year, the right wig can make the difference between a costume that’s merely cute and one that blows away your friends. It’s also the most practical — it’s the least expensive — of all the costume essentials, and a good wig will last you a long time.

For a seriously sweet and easy DIY outfit, you can get a classic rocker look like Eddie Munson from Stranger Things by starting with a t-shirt, then adding a leather jacket. Pair the heavy top with a pair of distressed jeans and biker rings for the ultimate 80s vibe. Add a long, curly wig and you’re all set to shred.

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bomber2jacket · 1 year

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Are Leather Jackets for Men in Style 2023

First, the leather blazer men was made to provide warmth in extremely cold conditions at high altitudes. The American military aviator clothing Board made it in 1917, during World War I. It provided enough warmth to keep the US flight crew warm at 25000 feet. This was the main reason this outfit was made. The quality of Yamaha apparel attracted a lot of attention from the local population.

This outfit was worn by many people after the war and some local companies started manufacturing it. The US aviation board introduced new models of leather outfits over time. A-1, A-2 and B-3 are just a few of the many models. This outfit was also popular among women. These jackets were in great demand. People were also interested in the 1928 invention of the first leather jacket. The question is: Are these jackets still in fashion?

The leather jackets are always in fashion and untrendy because of their exceptional quality features.

These outfits are being made in an incredible amount around the world. Maher Leather is another one. They make high-quality leather jackets using very fine-quality real leather. Their products are made from cowhide, sheepskin and lambskin. It is easy to find the perfect leather outfit for you and your family. You can choose from a cowhide cafe racer jacket or a classic motorcycle jacket to give your outfit a more casual look. You will not be disappointed by their exclusive products at any stage.

Why is leather jacket still fashionable?

Since its inception, the leather jacket has been a timeless fashion. This outerwear was adopted by many, regardless of whether they were a biker or bomber style. These jackets were in great demand. They are not trendy but still very much in fashion because of two main reasons: their amazing quality and public attention to leather jackets by influencers.

High Quality Leather Jackets

The best leather outfits are those that combine functionality and beauty. This outerwear is very stylish and thoughtful. This outerwear is ideal for someone who is fashion-oriented and cool. The leather is extremely warm and protects you from cold winter winds. An inner lining jacket adds warmth. All the quality features of Maher Leather's clothing are evident. They excel in material quality as well as craftsmanship.

Public Influencers in Leather Jackets

Public influences are people who inspire others to do, see, and listen to the same things. These people could include actors and musicians from Hollywood, as well as celebrities. We have listed some Hollywood celebrities who are known for wearing leather jackets at different times. We know that there is a large fan base that watches the actors and wears the items celebrities or other public figures wear.

Tom Cruise's top gun jacket

Tom Cruise's top gun jacket became very popular when he wore it for the first time in his movie Top Gun. The jacket's popularity didn't slow down and it was featured in the Tom Cruise movie Top Gun: Maverick. Maher Leather stocks the top gun jacket. It is a stunningly designed jacket.

Bourne Legacy Jeremy Renner Jacket

Jeremy Renner is seen wearing a black leather jacket in the Bourne Legacy 2012 series. The jacket was so popular that the public bought a copy. The Bourne Legacy Jeremy Renner Jacket is now fashion's most iconic.

The Dark Knight Bane Coat

Tom Hardy played the role as Bane in The Dark Knight. This B3 shearling long coat is perfect for Bane. This coat will complement any styled wardrobe, in natural or faux leather, and in different colors. Many people will try this coat after watching the movie to emulate Bane's rugged look in Dark Knight.

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minimel-fics · 2 years

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The Way We Get By - Part 5

Ez Reyes X Reader

Your new business venture leads you into familiar territory.

Warning: Minors do NOT interact with my bog, 18+ only. Contains cuteness, vulgar language, thigh riding, oral sex, and unprotected sex.

This is the epilogue for this series and I just want to thank everyone who read The Way We Get By- some of you following from the original unfinished version. I love you all and I would have never finished this without your support and encouragement!

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Masterlist

x x x

It was days like today when Ez wanted nothing more than to find an empty corner of the clubhouse to nurse a nice cold beer and watch his brothers joke around to avoid the stress the day had caused them. It felt like most of their work with the cartel lately had them running around and jumping over whatever obstacles arose, doing more work than they were required to keep on their deal.

Though many of the guys had expressed their annoyance with the nightly chirps of the crickets in the empty desert, Ez always found the sound rather soothing when they were wrapping up a long day which was why he had so quickly noticed the faintest hum had replaced the chirping.

“Do you hear that?” Ez questioned Angel as he helped his brother out of the cellar, letting the door fall shut behind them.

“Hear what?”

Both men fell silent to listen, neither one could pick up the sound that Ez was so sure he had heard. Angel sent his brother a shrug and walked around the house to where they had left their bikes hours earlier, only now your car was parked along with them. Ez paused to glance at the building, finding only one light on- the light in your office.

“Go on, Boyscout.” Angel put on his helmet, nodding toward the house as he did up the strap, “Keep the lady some company, just make sure there aren’t any cameras around this time.”

Ez hesitated until he saw your shadow pass by the open window, your humming loud enough now for both men to hear. “I’ll catch up with you later.”

The biker frowned at the fact that the door had been unlocked, making a mental note to remind you that it wasn’t safe to leave yourself so vulnerable while being alone in the middle of nowhere. The house was dark and quiet, the only sound was your low humming and the creaking of the wooden floorboards under Ez’s dusty boots.

You had found yourself bored in your not yet furnished apartment, only having a bed and tv for the past few weeks had meant that you had binged every show that seemed worthwhile, and now you were at a loss of how to spend your night. While picking that evening's choice of takeout, you had made the rash decision of getting your office painted, it had been the only room in the large house left with the original plain white walls.

You were in your zone, calming music playing in your headphones as you focused on making sure you left no imperfections in the paint. Ez leaned against the door frame to watch you, taking in your faded sweatpants and your hole-filled t-shirt as you hummed a vaguely familiar tune. The same thought clouded his mind that he couldn’t seem to shake since he had seen the video of you dancing on that bar; he missed you. He missed the way you had felt in his arms and the taste of your lips. Most of all, he had missed the nights he sat with you on the worn-out leather couch just down the hall, watching you from the corner of his eye as your poured all of your energy into your law books until he managed to steal your concentration for a deep conversation on an obscure subject.

“I’d lie for you, and that’s the truth,” The lyrics were nearly a whisper as they escaped your lips; the off-key singing told him that you couldn’t hear yourself, which proved to him that you hadn’t heard him come in. You turned ever so slightly to dip your brush in the paint tray, your body freezing as you caught sight of a muscular body standing in the doorway. Your paintbrush clattered onto the drop cloth before your fingers ripped your headphones from your ears as you spun around to face the intruder.

“Fuck, Ez, are you trying to give me a heart attack?” You pressed your palm against your racing heart, feeling its rapid beat stutter underneath your fingertips.

“Sorry,” He apologized, but you could tell by his smirk that he had thought your fright was humorous. “I saw the light on and thought I’d check on you. You should make sure the door is locked when you’re here alone.”

“I must’ve forgotten to lock it when I came in. I had my hands full.” You explained, retrieving the brush from the floor to rest in the paint tray. “Are you hungry? I have leftovers.”

Ez glanced at the small array of takeout containers scattered on the desk in the middle of the room, each one being at least half full. “I could eat.”

“Help yourself.” You wiped droplets of stray paint off your hands on your sweat paints, uncaring as it streaked across the old fabric- your left hand absent of any rings with a glittering diamond.

Ez wouldn’t admit that he had googled you himself after he had been shown the article about you, skimming through it again without eyes watching his every move. It said that you had been engaged, and the excuse your fiance had pushed for your “poor” behaviour was that you had been overserved at your bachelorette party. It also said that once the elevator tape went viral, your fiance was quick to end your engagement.

A comfortable silence filled the room as you painted and Ez munched on the leftover food. Your amusement at his lack of chopstick technique only grew when he proceeded to lift the container to his mouth, using the wooden utensils to shovel the food directly into his awaiting mouth. You dropped the paintbrush into the tray as Ez struggled to wipe crumbs from the short hairs on his chin. He paused as your gentle fingers reached to brush his face, successfully removing the food from his facial hair.

“There, all gone.” You sent him a smile as your eyes met, his dark ones swimming with his inner battle. His hand moved to cover your own, smoothing your dried paint-covered fingers to rest against his warm cheek as his eyes closed at the contact. He had thought about the softness of your skin so many times over the years; knowing that you were now within reach and that you hadn’t made a move to pull away meant you must have thought about him too.

“Ez,” Your soft breath fanned against his skin as you stroked your fingers against his cheek, his eyes opening at your gentle touch, “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.” Ez laced your fingers with his own as he pulled you against his chest, “I’m sorry that I’m part of the reason your life fell apart.”

“The loss of my career is regretful, but that’s because society still looks down on women liking sex though I do wish that it wasn’t all caught on camera; I want to note that I do not regret climbing you like a tree.”

Ez’s chest rumbled as he laughed at your phrasing, it was bold and brash, but he couldn’t help but feel prideful at your comment. “Oh yeah?”

You sent him a smirk as you released his fingers to grip the edges of his kutte, the leverage bringing your lips dangerously close to his, “The only thing I regret from that night was letting you sneak out in the morning.”

Ez wrapped his muscular arms around your back as his lips softly met yours. You tightened your grip on the leather to keep yourself grounded as you leaned into the kiss. Every time you had kissed Ez on that fateful night had been driven by lust, just a bridge to bring you closer together- closer to the edge, but this kiss was slow and breathtaking.

“Come on.” You laced your fingers with his and tugged him toward the door, switching the light off behind you.

“Where are we going?”

“To test one of the new beds.”

Neither of you spoke as he followed you up the stairs, a calm and content atmosphere surrounding you as you stepped into one of the few fully set up rooms. Ez used your attached hands to pull you close, his fingers finding the hem of your shirt to remove it- you were suddenly conscious of the fact you had forgone a bra for your painting session. Your body shuttered as the rough skin of his fingertips glided along the soft skin of your back, his thumbs moving to brush your awaiting, sensitive nipples.

You gently pushed the leather off his shoulders, showing the kutte extra care as you laid it on top of the empty bedside table. When you turned back toward Ez, he had removed his shirt, the dedication he put into his physique was on full display, and you couldn’t help but stare.

There was a cheeky smile on Ez’s face as he reached for the drawstring on your sweatpants; one simple tug of the string loosened the pants enough for them to fall off your hips and land around your ankles.

“You are magnificent.”

You felt yourself melt inside at the soft look in Ez’s eyes as he took in your nearly nude frame. Your body had matured and changed in the years that had passed, and it only made Ez appreciate your beauty even more. Ez pulled you to the bed with him, positioning you to straddle his jean-clad lap, his mouth wasting no time to find yours once again. His fingers dug into your hips as he pulled you impossibly closer, the thin material of your underwear brushing against the growing bulge in his pants.

The energy between you was growing, and the anticipation began to overwhelm you- you had often reminisced of your night with Ez when spending nights on your own, your body craving to once again be granted that level of pleasure while Ez had spent a bold amount of time in the sanctuary of his bed with your sex tape on repeat.

Neither of you had noticed your body shift until a small gasp left your lips as your hips dragged along his thigh in search of friction.

“You like that?” Ez tightened his grip on your hips, easily manipulating your body to repeat the action. “Such a dirty girl, getting off on my thigh. Let’s take these off.”

Ez’s hands detached from your hips to maneuver your soaked underwear down your legs, tossing them into the abyss with the rest of your clothing. A low whine escaped your lips as you picked up your rhythm. The rough fabric of his jeans against your exposed clit had you moving toward your orgasm at a record pace. Ez helped you along by bouncing his knee and flexing his thigh to add more pressure, his mouth leaving wet kisses down your neck until his lips found your hardening nipples.

“Fuck, Ez, I’m gonna cum.”

“I’ve got you, baby. Take what you need.”

Your hips stuttered, and your head fell back as the coil in your abdomen snapped. Your hand roughly settled itself on the growing bulge in Ezekiel's pants as you chased the high, the contact drawing a groan from deep within the biker’s chest.

“Whoops.” Your eyes were glued to the large dark patch on Ez’s jeans as you pushed yourself into a standing position, ignoring the wobble of protest from your legs.

“You think you can go again?” Ez asked as he stood, wasting no time as he pulled the belt from his pants and let his jeans drop the floor.

“If you didn’t fuck me now, then I would be severely disappointed.”

“Get on the bed,” Ez commanded, his eyes never leaving your body as you settled into the sheets. You lay on your back with your head resting on a fluffy pillow, anxiously awaiting his next move. His hands wrapped around your ankles, spreading your legs to find your thighs glistening from your last release. Your breath caught in your throat as he ran a single finger through your folds, circling your sensitive clit before sinking two into your slick.

“I missed your taste.” He leaned down until his face was level with your core, his tongue following the same action as his finger before pressing flat against you to lap up your juices.

“Fuck, Ez.” The sensitivity from your last orgasm had you teetering on edge, your hips rutting toward his warm mouth as you chased your next high. He pulled away just as you felt your breath begin to hitch, his tongue swiping along his lips to collect your extra juices. Before you could even out your breathing, he had moved to kneel between your thighs, pulling you by the back of the knees until he found the perfect angle to push himself into you. You both groaned as he stretched you, his pace slow to let you adjust to his size; once he was sure that he wasn’t going to hurt you, he pushed further in until he had bottomed out.

“You feel so fucking good.”

He rocked his hips against yours, the gentle push and pull against your walls felt better than anything you had ever felt. Ez kept his tender movements as he picked up his pace, his abdominal muscles flexing as he struggled to keep a steady pace. You weren’t sure if he had gotten even better at pleasuring you or if your acknowledged feelings were enhancing the experience.

You pulled his head down so you could reach his lips, the kiss slow yet sloppy as your poured yourselves into it. Ez shifted his hips, finding a new angle that caused his member to brush over tender spot repeatedly, your body rocking against his with more enthusiasm as you climbed your peak.

“You close?”

“Don’t stop, please, don’t stop!” Your vision blurred as you pleaded, Ez picking up his pace to help you find the release you so desperately needed. You could feel the muscles in his back tense under your fingers as he grew closer to his own high. “Cum inside me. I need to feel it.”

“Fuck.” Ez grunted as you clenched around him, milking him of every drop of cum he had as a vulgar whine escaped your parted lips. Your breathing was heavy as you clung to each other, needing a moment to collect yourselves before your bodies parted. Ez’s eyes were glued to the mixture of your cum dripping out of your leaking slit as he slowly pulled out of you.

“Holy shit.” You sighed, exhaustion washing over you like a wave as your body struggled to come down.

Ez stood, ignoring the way your eyes followed his naked body as he exited the room, returning a moment later with a damp towel to help clean you up.

He knelt between your open thighs, resisting the urge to bury his face back between them as your thighs continued to shake and your abdomen convulsed.

“Careful.” You watched wearily as he rubbed the towel gently against you, his eyes glued to the task at hand, making sure not to cause you any discomfort. He tossed the towel to the side, knowing that it would be picked up in the morning when you were ready to pop your little bubble of bliss. He helped you get under the covers of the bed, slipping his boxers over his hips before he slid in beside you. You rolled onto your side to face him, snuggling further into his arms when he wrapped them around you.

“This is nice.” You struggled to conceal a yawn, “I could get used to this.”

“You should get some sleep. I will be right here in the morning.” Ez promised, his lips planting a soft kiss against your forehead as your eyes fluttered shut, satisfied and content.

x x x

Join a taglist here, or comment.

All Mayans: @mijop @bellisperennis0 @chibsytelford @beeroses @un-poetryy @kate-moon @rosieposie0624 @partypoison00 @mrsstevenbuchananstark @mayansxlover @shanty-lol @pjkimrn @mmm @circumbilivagination @oklahomapeach

Ez Reyes: @justazzi @spnaquakindgdom @pearlkitten33 @lilsylvia @sia2raw @avengers-fixation @elephants-are-a-thing @enjoy-the-destruction

This Fic: @frattsparty @tartanbumsters @thesandbeneathmytoes @jasminee97 @pinkpenguindeer @ticosas @noz4a2 @withmyteeth @blessedboo

#mayans mc #mayans mc fic #mayans #mayans mc x reader #ez reyes #ezekiel reyes #ez reyes x reader #ez reyes smut #jd pardo #mayans mc smut

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im-just-a-mississippi-girl · 3 months

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Your Biker in Worn Leather Part 2

Pairing: EZ Reyes x female!reader

Category: Angst

Word count: 396

Summary: You finally tell EZ who’s responsible for your current appearance.

Warnings: None

Disclaimer: I have no idea if the Burning Souls are a real MC, it’s just a made up name for this fic. If they are real, this is in no way, shape, or form related to them and for entertainment purposes only.

Part 1

Masterlist

Taglist

Gif is not mine. Credit to the owner

EZ’s voice rang in your ears. Who did this to you? You knew the man Ezekiel would become once you told him the name. That version of EZ was terrifying to you despite his lividness never being aimed at you but others instead.

“Baby, who was it?” The biker asked once again in a softer tone, concerned filled eyes never leaving your face.

You swallowed hard. “Burning Souls.” You couldn’t bring yourself to look into EZ’s eyes. The fire that resided there was frightening and anyone in their right mind would run for the hills when met with the intense anger that bubbled up in the Mayan.

The Burning Souls were relatively new to the scene, being made up by men discharged from various branches of the armed forces and former police officers. They used all their skills, experience, and resources to their advantage to strike fear into anyone and everyone who crossed their path. What was their motivation? Their goal? Easy. To destroy all MCs in the state of California. To cause chaos, destruction, havoc and if people died in the process, that made it even better.

The Burning Souls had been scoping out the Mayans for a few weeks now. They had watched each Mayan through town and ultimately followed them to the clubhouse’s run down walled gate.

When the Burning Souls first saw you they didn’t think much of you, thinking you were just a club hang around and only there for fun and sex. That opinion of you was proven wrong when they kept seeing you with the Mayans’ Vice President, Ezekiel Reyes. The hugs and kisses exchanged between you and EZ told the story of love. Now the Burning Souls had what they needed — a weakness. A weakness to the VP. It was as close to the top as they were going to get since Obispo Losa showed no interest in love or affection but rather just sex. With no ammo to use on the Mayans’ President, the VP was next in line.

As soon as the MC’s name left your lips, EZ’s jaw tightened, fists clenched, his anger rose and rose with each passing second.

No one harms, much less touches his girl. Most importantly, no one lives to tell the tale.

Ezekiel Reyes was about to start a war ten times worse than the entire world has ever seen.

General Taglist: @kmc1989

EZ Reyes Taglist: @zaenight

#ez reyes #ez reyes x reader #ez reyes imagine #ez reyes fanfiction #ez reyes fic #ezekiel reyes x reader #ezekiel reyes #mayans mc #mayans #mayans imagine #mayans mc imagine #mayans fanfic #your biker in worn leather #your biker in worn leather series

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thisisarcanereverie · 3 years

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Something ‘Bout You (Biker Natasha x Reader) Chapter 1

A/N: Hey this is a new series! I’ve been meaning to write something for her for a while now so here ya go enjoy!

MAIN MASTERLIST

MCU MASTERLIST

NATASHA ROMANOFF MASTERLIST

REQUESTS ARE FREE AND ENCOURAGED

SUMMARY: After Wanda announces her engagement a familiar face returns into your life.

“(Y/n)!”

You heard the familiar chime of the doorbell and the familiar excited voice of your friend fill the relatively empty store. You whipped your head to her just in time to see her barrelling toward you and captured you in a bone crushing hug.

“Whoa there Wands,” You said as you returned the hug, “did something happen or are you just that happy to see me?”

Wanda quickly released you from her vice grip, “oh nothing much happened,” Wanda paused before holding up her left hand, “except this.” On her left hand on her ring finger sat a beautiful vintage ring.

“Oh my god!” You exclaim smiling as you grab her hand to get a closer look at the ring, it was simple in design but it really suited Wanda. ‘When did this happen?!”

“Last night,” Wanda reveals happily her smile never deterring, “Vis and I were watching reruns of the Dick Van Dyke Show, I told him how Mary’s ring was beautiful and next thing I know he asks ‘is it as beautiful as this ring’ next thing I know he’s down on one knee with the ring in his hand asking me to marry him.”

“I’m so happy for you and Vis.” You congrat Wanda as you and her continue to talk about her engagement for a few more minutes.

“Actually Vis and I were planning on going to the city tonight to celebrate, are you busy?” Wanda asks. You take a quick look at your calendar finding nothing but closing the store on the agenda for tonight.

“Nope,” You respond, “just have to close the store.”

“Close early and Vis and I will pick you up,” Wanda said, “We’re bringing Pietro, Steve, Bucky, and Monica with us.”

You hesitate for a bit, but you take one look into Wanda’s pleading eyes, the same eyes that have gotten you into more than your fair share of trouble since highschool, next thing you know you’re nodding your head in agreement.

Wanda lets out a small squeal before enveloping you once again in a small hug before saying goodbye and that Pietro will pick you up by seven.

As you continue about your day, stacking books and working the register you start to wonder when the last time you actually had a date was.

During the slow rush you decide to check your calendar again. You flip through each page until finally you land three months prior where you had plans to meet up with the local coffee barista at some bar you can’t remember the name of. What you do remember is that the date ended with you buying a half quart of ice cream and watching reruns of Gilmore Girls.

You check the clock and check the store to find it empty. You decide now would probably be a good time to close and to start getting ready for the night in the city with Wanda and the rest.

You turn the sign on the door to ‘closed’ and push all thoughts of dating to the back of your mind.

---

You had just slipped your shoes on when you heard Pietro knock on your door in the familiar pattern he’s done since high-school.

You answer the door to reveal Pietro. You always thought he had looked handsome in that mischievous way. But when he wears that white button up and slacks with his hair gelled back he is a special type of handsome.

“Well damn don’t we look fancy tonight?” You say as Pietro noticeably checks you out in the same appreciation. You did a small turn in your black dress that fell just mid thigh.

“And you don’t look too bad yourself Princeza,” Pietro said as he offered his arm in an overdramatic gentlemanly style. Which you responded in kind, laughing slightly as you made sure to lock the door behind you before finally heading out.

---

You were back in your parents backyard, sitting in that hammock with a book in your hands. Nancy Drew had wormed her way into eleven year old you’s heart, with all of her adventures and detective skills.

Just as you were about to reach the climax of the book you heard a familiar voice.

“Whatcha reading today?” You look away from the book and spot a familiar blue haired girl the same age. She was the neighbor that moved in about three years ago, Natasha, who quickly became your best friend.

“Nancy Drew,”

“Again?”

“There’s more than one Natty.” You responded, next thing you know the book is lifted from your hands and Natasha is hovering over you with the book in her hands.

“Naaat.” You whine as you try to reach for the book only to have her expertly move it away from you.

“C’mon,” Natasha says as she makes her way to the bushes separating your yard and hers, “adventure awaits.”

You struggle a little as you make your way out of your hammock and through the lush bushes to Natasha who slips through the crack in between.

“Nat,” you warn lightly.

“I promise I’ll give you the book back,” Natasha promises, “but first we go on an adventure! Grab your bike and meet me out front!”

“Where exactly is this adventure?”

“Just grab your bike, chatty cathy!”

You hear her footsteps rush over to her bike as you rush to yours.

By the time you let your parents know you’ll be riding your bike and get to the front of your house Natasha is already waiting for you.

Together you both rode your bikes until finally settling on a clearing near the local park. There was this big oak tree and in front of it a huge rock as well covered in green moss.

For a while both you and Natasha played by either climbing on the rock and proclaiming yourselves rulers of the land, climbing the tree, playing pretend in the most kid way possible.

However you would catch glimpses sometimes, you didn’t know what, but it made you worry for her. Like how sad she looked, or scared.

Finally, after being worn out by playing you both lay on the grass beneath you and watch as the fireflies began to dance around the big oak looking like thousands of moving stars.

You were enjoying the bit of peace and silence when you felt her hand hold yours. You look over and see the blue haired girl still staring at the millions of fireflies with a smile on her lips.

“Thank you for being my best friend.” She said gently as you looked away from her and continued watching the fireflies dance, until the sun finally set and it was time to go home.

She never did give that book back.

---

“Princeza, we're here.” You hear the familiar accented voice say. You slowly open your groggy eyes to see the glittering lights of the city.

“How long was I out?”

“An hour.”

“So the whole car ride,” You say, you could see Pietro nod from the driver's side, “I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

“I was asleep the whole car ride, you were probably bored.”

“No, I wasn’t bored,” Pietro said, “I know you haven’t been sleeping much because of the store.”

Here it comes.

“You need to start working less Princeza,” Pietro continued concerned, “you spend all your waking hours at the store, tending to your books, and life is going to pass you by.”

“Pietro-”

“I don’t mean to be harsh or rude,” Pietro quickly added, “it’s just I see you all the time at the store and nowhere else lately. I get that the store is demanding, but just try to make some time for yourself. Promise me?”

You look at him and can’t refuse.

“I promise.”

You can start relaxing tonight.

---

You came to quickly realize that clubbing really wasn’t your thing.

A pile of random sweaty bodies ground on each other on the dance floor to music that hurt your eardrums.

It wasn’t that you were judging anyone for liking this atmosphere, it just wasn’t your cup of tea, you preferred to stay on the sidelines and watch your friends dance.

And the full bar proved that you weren’t the only one.

You had looked away for a second to order a beer when you spotted someone familiar.

It was dark save for the flickering lights that illuminated her every once in a while. You couldn’t place where you knew her but you knew that you knew her. It was in the way she walked with a certain grace and her eyes were sharp enough to cut through you and you imagined her tongue was the same way.

She must have noticed you staring because the next thing you know she’s staring right at you. Your eyes lock and that’s when it hits you.

You didn’t recognize her without her blue hair.

Natasha.

You panic and turn back to the bar to order that beer you were going to order about five minutes ago. You mentally beat yourself up, if you didn’t look like a creep before you definitely did now.

You were so busy mentally assaulting yourself that you didn’t notice the redhead sauntering her way to you and sit on the empty barstool next to you.

“Well if it isn’t Nancy Drew.”

You turn your head and see Natasha there beside you. Her hair was shoulder length and no longer blue. Now her hair was it’s natural elegant red color, her blue eyes sharper than you remember as well as her cheekbones. You noticed hints of tattoos peeking out from the collar and sleeve of her leather coat.

“You never did return that book.”

You both couldn’t help the laugh that erupted. Even though it’s been years somehow it almost feels like no time has passed.

Almost.

“So what’ve you been up to?” Natasha asked, “still into books?”

“Uh yeah,” You confirm, “I actually own a bookshop back home.”

You see Natasha smile from ear to ear before taking a sip of what was your beer now it seems to be adopted by Natasha.

“That’s so you,” Natasha said before taking another sip from the beer bottle.

“Well what about you?” You ask, “what have you been up to?”

You could see the hesitancy in Natasha’s face, just as she was about to answer, however you see a light brown haired male come up beside her.

“Hey Nat, I hate to interrupt but we got a Budapest situation over here.” Natasha swerved her attention to where he pointed at the blonde who was obviously drunk off her ass putting a six foot tall man into a choke hold. Which you had to admire and be impressed at.

“I guess that’s my cue Nancy Drew,” Natasha said as she took one last sip from the beer bottle before abandoning it. As she was making her way through the crowd but before she got too far you saw her turn around.

“What was the name of your bookstore again, Nancy Drew?!” She yelled over the crowd.

“Oh-um- Summertime Stories!” You call out, you catch a glimpse of something in her eyes before it disappears.

“I’ll see ya soon Nancy Drew!”

Oh how right she was.

#natasha romanoff #natasha and yelena #natasha x you #natasha x reader #natasha romanov #Natasha romanoff x reader #MCU #mcu natasha romanoff #marvel characters #marvel cinematic universe #marvel #marvel x reader #mcu x reader #x reader #x reader fluff #x reader smut

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hotdamnhunnam · 3 years

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Fear Fuck the Reaper

A/N: So this is the first of two fics in a series of savage!Jax, based on ideas that came up in my tag list group chat! Here we have Jax fucking you filthy and rough while he’s wearing his reaper crew hat 💀 I was also asked to add a breeding kink and thought it worked well with this fic, so there’s that!

Pairing: Jax Teller x F!Reader Warnings: smut, swearing, dirty talk, rough sex, light choking, breeding kink, dom!Jax Request: credit @dslap65, @waywardodysseys for bringing up this idea in my tag list chat! And @joegibson0 requested reaper breeding kink

Word Count: ~2k

GIF by helldivers-blog (same source for all gifs in this fic)

You’ll never forget the first time you met Jax.

Months ago when you first swung by Teller-Morrow for a quick and easy car repair, you lost your absolute shit when you saw him standing there. Stopped in your tracks. Tried not to have a fucking heart attack. At the sight of this jaw-dropping stud, with his bright sky-blue eyes and his sun-golden hair, clad in black, hoodie under his worn leather kutte... you were such a damn slut, for this biker boy snack.

Needless to say, you couldn’t help but stare. Your inner whore was not okay. You’re pretty sure she swore submission to Jax Teller on that day. And he knew it was true, what his presence was doing to you, which was really unfair.

One look at Jax and you were ruined. Every single thing about him did you in, including how he gloated over knowing the effect he had. Your heart began to fall for him before you even knew what it was doing, and if you were forced to pick one thing to blame for that... you’d have to say it was that motherfucking hat.

Sure, it was everything else—every inch of Jax Teller is sexy as hell. But there was just something about him in that plain black baseball cap he wore so well. He had it backwards when you met, ‘REAPER CREW’ printed on the front in bold white letters. And the way he wore the shit out of this hat made you so wet. You’d honestly never been wetter.

‘Reaper’ was seriously accurate; the sheer existence of this living breathing sex god knocked you dead. He reaped your slutty little soul, and set about wrecking your holes.

What was supposed to be a quick and easy car repair... turned out to be Jax Teller fucking you raw in the back of the garage—right fucking there, where anyone could see and hear because he didn’t fucking care—roughing you up like the complete savage he was.

And still is to this day. Now that you’re Jax’s girlfriend, he roughs you up all day every day, to no end. But these past months, with all the sex you’ve had... he’s only fucked you once, wearing his reaper hat—that first time when you met. And you’re desperate for him to do it again.

You can just imagine: he’ll be wearing it forwards, at first... and then spin it around, when he’s ready to go to town, start dicking you the fuck down... pound you so hard it hurts.

Clearly you have a whole kink for Jax fucking you in his reaper crew hat. Need it bad. Tonight you’ll make damn sure he satisfies that thirst.

***************

You stop by the clubhouse on your way home from work today, hoping that Jax will be ready to head home and play.

But just your luck, SAMCRO is in the middle of some bad shit, and the boys need the VP around to help handle it. Jax doesn’t even have time to pull your ass aside for a quick little fuck. So you’ll have to wait up for a chance at your man’s massive cock.

“I’m sorry, babe—you know I hate to make you wait. But we’ve got serious club business on our plate.”

He’s so damn cute when he’s all sad, blue gaze downcast beneath the black shade of his hat. You know that he’d much rather take you home right now than have to stay out with the Sons so late. You know that he feels bad—but it’s all right, as long as when he finally hurries home tonight... he treats you to the best damn sex you’ve ever had.

And so you tell him that.

A smirk crosses his luscious pink lips, as he grabs your hips, pulls you toward him for a passionate kiss. Kisses from Jax are the best and can bring you to climax, to be fucking honest.

“Oh, I’m planning on it,” he purrs in your ear, just before you head out of here. “Bitch, that’s a promise.”

***************

Lying wide awake and alone in your bedroom, dying from how badly you want him... when you finally hear the front door swinging open, it’s past 1 A.M. Maybe closer to 2. You don’t even bother to look at the clock, now that you’ll finally get your hands on your man’s cock. The only thing that matters to you.

Jax wastes no time at all coming to the bedroom as soon as he gets in. He’s as desperate for you as you are for him. Knows that you’ll be awake, holding out for his dick for as long as it takes.

And because he came in such a rush, he’s still wearing his hat. As if he knew you want him like that. Maybe he does—Jax always had a knack for reading your mind, like an open book full of new secrets and kinks waiting for him to find.

Usually when he’s in a rough mood he fucks you from behind. But tonight... tonight you need the view. By the moonlight the window beside you provides, need to look up at him in this goddamn black hat while he does all the filthy shit he loves to do. You can’t see the white letters just yet, while they’re set on the back of his head, as the cap is on forwards. But you can still feel the effect of the words: REAPER CREW.

Sure, most people in Charming fear the reaper—rightly so. But not you, no. You’re fucking eager. And you’re such a lucky bitch you get to have the goddamn reaper in your bed. Fuck him instead.

“Daddy’s home,” Jax ferociously snarls, pouncing on you like an absolute alpha male dom, making your toes curl. “You ready for this dick, you dirty girl?”

It’s not so much an actual daddy kink, between you and him—but you and Jax learned early on that you both have a thing for the thought of him knocking you up, at some point when the timing is right. Not tonight. A lot has to happen before you can seriously entertain having Jax Teller’s babies. Not really. Not till you’ve spent more time as his one and only old lady.

Yet that won’t stop either of you from indulging the whole breeding kink, in theory, and going fucking crazy.

“Yes, fuck me, Jax...!” you gasp as he attacks, pulling the bedsheets back, to see you wet and naked. That’s the only way you ever care to wait for him in bed: ready to take it.

He gives himself just half a second to enjoy the view; most other nights he would’ve gotten naked too, but on this night he has no patience. Climbs on top of you, two bodies pressed together in a mess of skin and leather, one hand reaching in his pants to free his cock without a moment’s hesitation.

The front brim of his cap is bumping up against your head, and... yeah, you’re dead. You’ll never understand just what it is about Jax in this hat, but there’s no question that you have a kink for that. It feels amazing.

Meanwhile some part of Jax is still a tease even when you’re both burning with heat, eager for the release that you need. He grinds up wickedly against your soaking pussy once his cock is finally freed. “Mmm, how long you been waiting...?”

“Forever,” you groan out, pathetic and loud. “Just—please, fuck me, Teller...”

He snickers, toying at your clit with his talented fingers. “You know that I love you, right?”

You moan in pleasure, convinced you’re the luckiest girl ever. Jax tells you often that he fell in love from the moment you two got together. “Yes, sir...”

“Know I’ve been thinking about you all night?” he goes on, rubbing the tip of his cock across your dripping cunt. You’re both sinfully juicy. “Know that’s all I want? Dreaming of pounding this sweet fucking pussy? God, baby, you’re always so wet for me. So tight...”

And at those words, Jax suddenly drives his dick balls deep inside. And it feels like you’ve burst, like you’ve died... and you want to keep dying like this all damn night.

“Yeah, that’s right,” he gloats, wrapping one of his hands around your throat. “You know you love this big cock tearing up this perfect little cunt of yours, you filthy fucking whore. It’s what you fucking live for.”

His grip around your neck is tight yet soft, and just the right level of rough. He always likes to shower you with words of love... before he fucks you up like nothing but his dirty little slut.

Your smooth bare skin keeps scraping up against the rugged leather of his kutte, as Jax hammers your cunt in a ravenous rhythm, ravaging and wrecking, hitting new spots inside of you every damn second, and then plunging deeper within. Holy fuck, you’re so fucking in love with his cock. So in love with him.

“God, I can’t wait to fill up this sweet fucking cunt...” your man grunts, tightening his grip around your throat, pressing slightly in your pulse point with his thumb. “Drop this big fucking load... pump you full of my cum...”

You’re on birth control, but it’s so fun to pretend that you’re not when he talks about flooding your hole.

And now Jax finally reaches up to spin his cap around, so he can seriously start going to town. Somehow pushes his throbbing cock even farther into your cunt and fucking pounds. Bringing his gorgeous face closer to yours, as he keeps railing you with such animalistic force, reminding you with words and actions both that you will always be his perfect little whore.

You find yourself hypnotized by the white letters in front of you—‘REAPER CREW’—spelled out above Teller’s eyes blazing blue. What a hell of a view...

“Does this do it for you?” he playfully taunts, as he plows through your soaking wet cunt. “This what you fucking want—fucking need? You like fucking the reaper, huh? Like the thought of me filling you up with my seed? Know this pussy is mine to breed? Mmm, gonna give me a whole little reaper crew?”

“Oh God, yes...!” you scream, turned on beyond all your wildest dreams. That’s all you’ve ever wanted, to be honest. Popping out Sons for Jax Teller is what you were put on this earth to do.

He knows it, too. And the thought is pure heaven for both of you, leading you both to a peak explosion, in the same exact moment. Your dripping wet pussy pulses and convulses around his huge length, while he pumps you with all of his raw primal power and strength. As the motion of your body milks every drop from his balls, his delicious cum slicks up your innermost walls, nothing but a blank canvas for his thick white paint.

Shouting his name again and again, you grip onto his kutte as he uses you up as his personal slut, fucking you till you feel fucking faint...

His hand is no longer around your neck, but still you’re having trouble breathing as you come down from this epic round of sex. Equally fucked out and barely able to move, as you’re both overflowing with unspoken love, Jax just collapses down on top of you, keeping himself buried between your legs. You’ve never felt so absolutely wrecked.

...And it’s perfect. The next time you want this kind of sex—hands down the best you’ve ever had—all you will have to do... is beg for Jax to fuck you with this motherfucking hat. Remind you that he’s gonna breed you full of a whole new reaper crew.

And that is fucking that.

***************

... Continued in this sequel fic! ✨

Hope you enjoyed this, and would love to hear if you did! 🤗❤️

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years

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Looking For A Place to Happen 6

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), age gap, general stupidity, some violence and threats, drunkenness, some content not warned.

This is dark!biker!Sam Wilson x reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Series Synopsis: There’s lots happening in Birch and you find it all too amusing.

Sister series to Smalltown Bringdown, When the Weight Comes Down, Little Bones, and Fully Completely

Note: The second last chapter of Sam for y’all!

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Chapter 6: Making stops along the way

💀💀💀

You laid on your side and hugged the covers as the bed shifted beside you. Sweaty, sore, exhausted, and the sun was only just dimming beyond the window. Sam’s broad back tensed as he sat up and stretched his arms above him. You could still feel him inside you, not that any reprise lasted long.

He said nothing as you heard the knock again. You barely noticed before but the pounding got louder as Sam pulled on grey jogging pants and chuckled. You groaned and hid your face against the duvet. Every move sent a thrumming pain through you, and agonized emptiness you resented.

Your knee hit the toy as it rolled against you and you flinched. Sometimes you couldn’t tell if it was him or the silicone stretching you. How had it only been a few hours? It felt like you’d been there for days.

“Damn it,” the voice grumbled from the other room, low and muffled by the wall, “I told you I was coming by.”

You recognized it from that fateful night at The Asp; deep and sinister. As brief as your encounter with the man, you could guess he was rarely anything but irritable.

“Calm down,” Sam replied lightly, “I got other things to do…”

“You got business,” Bucky retorted.

“Money’s in the bag,” you heard a soft rustle and a harrumph.

“Should’ve brought it direct,” Bucky complained.

“I’ve been taking care of your other problem,” Sam countered smoothly as you heard heavy footsteps move around the front room.

“I see that,” Bucky mused, his voice clearer, closer.

You lifted your head and quickly hid your bare leg and ass under the blanket. He chuckled as Sam neared and crossed his arms over his thick chest.

“She knows the rules now,” Sam said, “got it all under control.”

“Mmm,” Bucky lifted his chin and turned to Sam, “yeah, yeah, well… my girl…”

“Nice woman… stubborn like you,” Sam remarked.

“Stubborn’s a word for it. She’s, uh, concerned,” he said carefully, “about the girl. Says she’s young--”

“Not deaf either,” you sat up as you clung to the duvet.

He squinted at you and you flinched. Sam glanced at you and tapped a finger against his lips for you to be quiet.

“You know Steve’s girl is having that little thing at the bar. Her birthday or some shit.”

“Steve won’t shut up about it,” Sam rolled his eyes.

“He’s sweet on her. Too sweet.” Bucky sniffed, “Anyway, bring the girl, need mine to stop worrying.”

“Ah, sure, when was it again?”

“Tomorrow,” Bucky jutted his jaw out, “actually…” he peeked over at you as he thought, “take her by my lady’s place. The girls will be there getting all dolled up.”

“I’m busy--” you began and Bucky snapped his fingers at you.

“You said she knew the rules,” he pointed at Sam, “maybe you should remind her before I have to see her again.”

He turned and you saw his leather jacket as he stomped away, seizing a leather bag from the coffee table as he passed. The door slammed in his stead and Sam leaned against the wooden frame to look at you. He shook his head and sighed.

“Don’t know what it is about that man and women,” he gave a smirk, “but y’all sure do like to take the piss out of him.”

💀

It was easy enough to find any house in Birch, there were only so many. As you were realising too late, this was detrimental, not just to you but many in the thrall of the club’s clutches. There was no place to hide from those men and their cruelty.

He handed you your phone back before he let you go. He warned that you better use it wisely. He would meet you at the bar later; you were to make your way over with the group of women you didn’t know.

You neared the front door of the yellow house and knocked. You waited nervously, the cold air slipping in under your long jacket. A woman opened the door and you wondered if you were at the wrong place. Typical. You could even get lost in Birch.

“Oh, you must be the last,” she chimed, “I’m Mel.”

You smiled and awkwardly gave your name. She beckoned you inside and you added your boots and coat to those already by the door. You dressed for the occasion, Sam approved of the outfit with a growl after advising you to wear something slutty. You hadn’t worn the tight leather leggings and the strappy crop top since your club days in your two years of community college.

Mel looked you over but made no remark on your attire as she pointed up the stairs, “to the left, you’ll hear them.”

You ascended and the low hum of 90s music and female voices reached you from the slightly open door just down the hall. You neared and knocked as you waited tentatively. You knew Bucky’s girl from the bar but never had the chance to talk to her. You never did well with strangers, always the weird one, the funny one.

“Hey,” Bucky’s girl swung open the door, “just in time.”

“Um, hi,” you stepped into the small bedroom, “I brought tequila.”

You held up the bottle as you peered around. The mechanic was on the bed, her brows arched sardonically as she watched the quiet baker girl that sat at the slim desk and checked her appearance in a hand mirror. She hovered a stick of eyeliner in front of her face but never made contact with her skin as she bared her teeth. You put the bottle down on the corner of the dresser.

“I don’t know how to do this,” she wisped but quieted at her name as Bucky’s girl introduced them, “oh, hi.”

You smiled and stared quietly. You chuckled nervously and rung your hands. “Did you need help? I’ve watched some, um, Youtube stuff on it--”

“Sure,” she lowered the mirror in defeat, “I just don’t wanna mess it up.”

“That’s a lame present,” the mechanic said, “make-up? When you don’t even use it? I always knew Steve was a bitch--”

“At least he got me something,” she handed over the stick of liner as you neared and Bucky’s girl pushed a cushioned chest up from the corner for you to sit, “my pa never did.”

“Just because he’s less of an ass than your pa doesn’t mean he’s not an ass,” the mechanic spat as she pulled at the front of her stiff dress, black with little gems set into the fabric.

“Oh, and look at you, wearing that clown suit,” Bucky’s girl intoned, “we’re all in the same boat.”

“What kinda look you going for?” you asked as you cleared your throat.

“I… don’t know, something pretty,” she smiled meekly.

You nodded and looked over your shoulder at the bottle of tequila. You peeked back at the girl as she squirmed nervously.

“We should do some shots,” you said, “it’s your birthday, right? You should have fun… try to relax.”

“Her, relax?” The mechanic scoffed.

“Shots sound good, I’ll get some glasses,” Bucky’s girl said from behind you.

She left and you asked the baker to close her eyes. You held her head carefully as you stretched her eyelid and traced it carefully. It was much easier to do on someone else. You added a little wing and balanced out her other eye before you sat back.

Bucky’s girl plunked four short amber shot glasses on the dresser and poured as you went over the gift bag full of make-up with Steve’s girl. She chose a rosy shade of pink that you gently applied to her lips.

Bucky’s girl handed out the glasses. The mechanic didn’t flinch or wait before she downed hers. Steve’s girl frowned as she took hers and you gave a thank you as you accepted a glass.

“I can already feel the burn,” the baker girl bemoaned.

“Come on, loosen up,” you raised your shot and downed it, “jeez, how old are y’all?”

“Old enough to know better,” Bucky’s girl said, “you know, you really got yourself in the shit but I’m sure I don’t need to tell you.”

“Oh you mean the local den of assholes,” you snorted, “shot, shot, shot.”

You encouraged Steve’s girl until she reluctantly knocked back the tequila. You took her glass and your own and went to the dresser. You refilled them and offered her the second.

“You really don’t learn,” the mechanic blinked.

“No, I do but I’d rather be drunk and miserable than sober and miserable,” you raised your shot, “and you guys, this,” you pointed to them, “the look, sure you got some years but you’re still young enough. You needa show some skin.”

“It’s below zero,” Bucky’s girl narrowed her eyes.

“The tequila will keep you warm,” you nudged Steve’s girl and mirrored her as you drained your shot.

“She’s gonna get us all killed,” the mechanic muttered.

“No, I’m gonna get you lit,” you grabbed the bottle and turned up the little speaker in the corner before shimmying over to her. You filled her glass and took a swig directly from the bottle, “also, I can hardly feel anything anymore.”

💀

“I’m telling you,” you slurred, “you can’t wear that! We stop by my place and I’ll get you the look.”

“The look?” Bucky’s girl interjected, “you mean the hypothermic style?”

“My nan has more style than all of you,” you stumbled off the main road away from the bar, “come on!”

“We’re gonna be late,” Steve’s girl squeaked.

“For what? It’s your birthday,” you grabbed her hand and ran ahead.

The other two followed a few feet back as you led them down to your nan’s house. You dragged her up the steps and leaned heavily on the door as you burst through. The smell of cigarette smoke met your nostrils as your grandmother appeared in the door of the front room and puffed as she watched you sway.

“Nan!” you dropped the baker girl’s hand and outstretched your arms as you grandmother swiftly sidestepped you and sucked on her cigarette.

“I see you’ve made friends,” she tutted, “try not to make a mess of my house or you’ll be cleaning it up, drunk or not.”

“We won’t be here long, we just need clothes… you got any of that wine left?”

“No more for you, girly,” she chided.

“Girls, girls, girls,” you turned back, “this is my nan. She kills bikers.”

“Shut your mouth, girly,” your grandma snarled, “you might be three sheets to the wind but words carry.”

“Do you?” the mechanic spoke up, more and more quiet as she imbibed.

Your nan gave her a long look. There was a moment of silence, understanding, commiseration. The old lady shrugged and tilted her head.

“I haven’t messed with bikers since 1978 and I don’t plan on starting again,” she butted out the cigarette in the empty coin tray on the console table, “go on, get what you need and get out.”

“Ugh, fine,” you moped away and waved the girls up the stairs behind you.

You leaned heavily on the railing as you ascended and they followed behind you in disorder, several times supporting each other in the climb. Inside your room, you pulled open your closet and looked at the impulse purchases you never had a chance to wear. You don’t know why you bought them, they were all cheap and generic, but you were always a sucker for a sale.

“Here,” you handed the mechanic as shiny silver top with straps, “I should have something to go with it.”

You handed out clothes like candy, some of the tags still attached so you ripped them off clumsily. The mechanic ended up in the silver top and black pleather leggings, Bucky’s girl in dark blue dress with cutouts that you ordered in the wrong size, and Steve’s girl in no more than bright red bra and some high rise jeans.

“We’re gonna freeze,” Bucky’s girl whined.

“Suck it up and put your coat on,” you snapped, “now, we’re ready for fun!”

“Steve’s not gonna like this,” the baker moaned.

“You need more alcohol! Who gives a shit what he thinks?” The mechanic nudged her, “he’s a prick.”

“They’re all pricks,” Bucky’s girl giggled, “what’s this?”

You turned as she pulled out the bottle of Smirnoff hidden in your top drawer. It was still sealed because you didn’t like the grape flavour but she quickly broke the plastic. She took a gulp and scrunched her face as she held it out to Steve’s girl.

“No more, it’s too much!”

“If only Thor hadn’t dragged his girl off,” Bucky’s girl pushed the bottle to Steve’s girl’s lips, “but we gotta make up for her, don’t we?”

“Shit, shit,” the mechanic chuckled and grabbed the bottle as the baker struggled to swallow, “we’re gonna get in some shit, girls.”

“Is that idiot ever happy? Loki? What a dumb name?” Bucky’s girl snarled.

“They all suck,” you added.

“Ugh, don’t get me started on Sam,” the mechanic wiped her glistening lips, “preying on a kid.”

“I’m not… not a kid,” you hiccuped.

“You didn’t know who Aaran Carter is,” Bucky’s girl said, “you’re a kid.”

You laughed and took a swig and cringed at the burn of the vodka, “I’m an adult.”

“Sure don’t act like it,” the mechanic said loudly.

“Who gives a fuck? Tonight, we don’t,” Bucky’s girl said, “come on, let’s go see those bastards and show ‘em we don’t fuckin’ care.”

You snickered as you found your coat where you left it on the bed and the lot of you staggered down the back steps and around the house. The winter air crawled over you and sent a shiver up your spine. You hardly felt it in the warm glow of the alcohol; not the cold, not the dread that had lingered for days, not even the regret. You were completely and pleasantly drunk out of your mind.

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all1e23 · 4 years

Text

Bad Habit [Pt.1]

Pairings: Biker!Steve x Reader

Series warnings: Drug use. Violence. Smut so 18+ please and thank – No smut this chapter. Sorry to disappoint

A/N: Part 1! 800 years later. I’m doing my best to get my wips finished by the end of the year so fingers crossed I actually do so. Un-beta’d. So, uh, yeah. Be prepared for that.

***My fics are not to be saved or posted on any other sites without my written permission. Reblogs are my jam, though! Thanks!****

Two weeks it’s been since his mystery girl came into his life, and Steve hadn’t seen or heard from her since she bolted out of the clubhouse’s front door before the sun had cleared the trees. At the time, Steve was disappointed. He had plans. There was a burning need for waffles and bacon and syrup covered kisses, the exchange of numbers, or the very least names and a plan for next time. All those wants quickly evaporated along with the dust those tires kicked up during the hasty getaway. In hindsight, it was probably for the best that morning played out as it did. If Bucky had been there to witness a girl running from his room at first light, he would never hear the end of it. Before the day was out, Bucky would have the whole clubhouse believing he ran another girl off. Thankfully, the only person to catch the escape was Sam, and he was doing everything he could to convince Steve to forget about it. Sam told him nothing good came from chasing a girl that didn’t want to be chased, but Steve has this feeling in his gut, this time wasn’t like before.

Whoever you were, you were different.

Maybe you had him under some sorta spell, and that was why he couldn't forget you. It would explain a lot. You captivated him from the moment you stepped into the bar, and he still saw stars long after you ran out the front door and out of his life. He never really stood a chance if he was honest with himself; Steve knew he was in trouble from the first glance. Two things were apparent right off the bat, you were going to be a handful, and it would be hard, if not impossible, to earn your love. Still, Steve chased after you like a novice sailor following a siren’s melody. He had no problem admitting he was willing to follow you out to the middle of the ocean only to find himself unable to swim in the dark waters you lived in.

In the past, Steve had a bad habit of falling too fast, loving quick and fierce. You would be his last. He just had a feeling things would go his way this time--if he could find you.

As much as he wanted to see you again, he didn’t have any idea how to make that happen. He didn’t even know your name and had no idea where to start looking for you. Hell, he didn’t even know if you lived in Brooklyn. For all, he knew this could have been a stop on your way home where you already had someone waiting on you. All he had was the necklace you gave him, and that was a dead-end. It was just a one-night stand. He should toss the chain in a drawer and put that night behind him. Most men like him would. They would move on to the next girl and forget you existed. Steve, though, he’s stubborn (so says Bucky), and it’s a good thing he is because it’s always worked in his favor.

Steve ran his thumb over the gold pendant resting against his chest and grinned as he watched you move around behind the bar.

The one place he would have never thought to look.

"Well, I'll be damned,” Steve whispered to himself, still watching as you talked and laughed with customers.

Natasha mentioned she hired a new girl he hadn’t met yet a few nights ago, but without knowing his siren’s name, there was no way he could have connected the two. He had no idea that this Y/n was his Y/n. Now that he found you, he only had to get past the high walls you built up around your heart.

Steve parted the worn red leather stools to make room for him to lean against the polished wood, drumming his fingers impatiently along the bar top waiting for you to finish up with the man you were serving at the far end and finally notice him. You gave the stranger in dark brown leather a high squeaky laugh in return for the lousy pick-up line he threw at you. It wasn’t the same laugh, Steve knew. The laughter he memorized was light and airy, your whole body shook when it took hold of you, and it made your eyes sparkle in a way that could steal his breath like nothing else. Steve found that out early in the night when his beard tickled your inner thigh. The memory made him grin. He wanted to hate how fake you sounded right then, but it also meant you let him see a part of you you kept hidden from the rest of the world, and that was enough for hope.

You turned around and stopped short when you spotted Steve standing there, grinning at you, looking just as pretty as he did the last time you saw him. He trimmed his beard, but it was still thick only cleaned up a bit, and those pretty blond locks tucked behind his ears made him look like a young boy. The tattoos on his forearm peeking out from the rolled-up sleeves and the black leather kutte resting over the snug burgundy Henley reminded you he was no boy. He was trouble, and he was looking to drag you into his mischief. That wasn’t going to happen, no matter how pretty he looked. It took a second for your brain to remind your feet they needed to move. Steve slid around the bar as you made your way towards him.

"What are you doing here?" You asked quietly, refusing to look up from the IPA bottle you were cracking open.

"Came to see a friend of mine. His wife owns the place. I have to admit I thought it would be a lot harder to find you."

Shit. You stopped mid pour and set the glass down, half full of foam. That would need a re-pour.

No. This wasn't happening. Surely, he didn’t mean… No, no. No.

"Wait..." You needed to know before you said things you couldn’t take back. "Are you talking about Bucky?"

Steve tilted his head to the side. Now, that had his curiosity piqued. You could see him processing your question, and you knew exactly what he was thinking: Why did you know that Bucky was Bucky? It was rare that Bucky interfered in Natasha’s business at all. Everyone knew who her husband was and what he was, but it never went beyond James Barnes, Vice President of The Howlers. This sounded like you were… friends?

You should have kept your mouth shut and walked away the second you saw him.

"You know, Buck?"

Buck... Oh, god.

It suddenly all made so much sense, and you were such an idiot.

“Why me? What did I ever do to deserve this? I’m a decent person, aren't I?” You asked, looking up at the ceiling as if someone from the heavens would answer you. “This is so bad. Why do you have to be you?”

You groaned and dropped your head to the bar top. Your one night stand was Bucky's best friend. Club president. Your Steve was Steve Rogers. The Howler’s MC President. The man who went on the road for three years and no one knew why, the one who went nomad and only returned home a few weeks ago. This was why you never let tequila make your decisions. You always end up doing something foolish, like charming bikers that will break your heart.

“I think this necklace of yours might be my good luck charm. Led me right to you, firecracker.”

“Good luck or a curse?” You grumbled against the slick wood top. Steve hummed, clearly amused by the light chuckle that followed. You slowly lifted your head to glare at him, and he simply grinned back.

“Definitely good luck, sweetheart,” Steve assured you with a wink.

You refused to smile, and you certainly weren’t going to be the one that looked away first. You won’t give in to whatever he’s playing at. Steve settled against the wood and stared right back; his bright blue eyes glittered with amusement and something else that made your skin tingle and your inside burn with want. You recognized a young blond man from a night or two spent at Bucky and Natasha’s place strolled by the bar, only slowing down long enough to pat Steve on the back, but Steve didn’t even blink at the distraction.

Nothing could pull him away from you.

“Hey, Nomad. You comin’?”

Nomad?

“Yeah, I’ll be there in a minute Clint. I’ve got some business out here first.”

You could hear Clint cackling as he walked down the long hallway that led to Natasha’s office. You wondered what the club wanted here and how often the club— and Steve— would be hanging around. Natasha said there wasn’t any overlap between the two. There was a moment of uncertainty and fear when she first offered you the job. You didn’t know if you could work for her if her business was mixed up in club business. That was until she assured you the club didn’t interfere in her affairs. That put some of your worries at ease, not all but enough to give you the courage to accept the job. Your last run-in with an MC was why you ended up south Brooklyn begging Natasha for a place to stay and a position. That was how you ended up working at Red Star and sharing a pathetically tiny apartment with your new friend Wanda.

There was no one else, no other friends to run to if things go south again. This was the only second chance you were getting, and you couldn’t blow it on someone like Steve Rogers.

“Thought your name was Steve?”

Steve grinned.

“That’s my given name. These idiots call me Nomad when they aren’t calling me Prez or Cap. Stevie on occasion. Everyone’s got a nickname ‘round here.”

You’ve heard plenty about their nicknames and all the things they’ve done to get them.

“I think I prefer Charming,” you mumbled, walking down a few stools to finally hand over a fresh, less foamy IPA to the grump at the far end of the bar.

Every time you moved, Steve followed you, dodging the bodies sitting and standing, and there were several times you had to tell your heart to shut up and keep the flutters to herself. It was becoming increasingly evident that Steve wasn’t going to give up easily. Seeing as how he would probably be around often, you needed to put an end to whatever storybook ending he was building up in his head.

"You can call me whatever you want."

You rolled your eyes and slipped the neck of two bottles between your fingers on each hand.

“Can I have your name now?”

“No.”

Steve laughed. He just laughed as if there was something funny about what you had said. He didn’t seem annoyed or upset by your callus tone. If anything, he enjoyed it. Once your hands were free, he reached for you and circled his long fingers around your wrist, loose enough you could easily slip free if you wanted to, but you made no move to lose his touch. You didn’t want to draw any more attention towards the two of you than you had already. That was absolutely the only reason you were letting him touch you. It had nothing to do with how much you liked the feel of his warm, calloused hands on your skin.

“I could keep calling you my firecracker.”

“I’m not your anything,” you were quick to correct him.

“No, you're not,” Steve said with a grin. “We haven't even gone on a date yet.”

Yet! As if there is a chance it would be happening. He was sadly mistaken if he thought there was going to be another page to your story. You raised a brow, and Steve hung his head in defeat, but the smile on his face hadn’t changed when he finally looked back up. Something about this man made you want to hide in the safety of his arms and stop running long enough to see if fairy-tales were real.

That was why things between you would never work.

“Why won’t you give me a chance, hm?”

Because you're just like all the rest, pretty and dangerous, the harsh voice in your head screamed. It was probably better he didn’t know you thought he was pretty. He seemed like the type to focus on the compliment and ignore the rest.

“Mmm, I’ve played with bikers before. The ride is dangerous, dirty, and short-lived. The risk is never worth the reward.”

That made Steve frown for the first time since he walked into the bar and your heart-clenched at the look of concern on his face. For a second, you thought about taking it back. Telling him he could be different and maybe he was a good guy with a half-decent heart—even if you didn’t believe it.

“Sounds Like you're playing with the wrong bikers. My rewards are always well worth the ride, babydoll."

On second thought, with lines like that, maybe you were right from the start. You weren’t about to fall for the same overplayed words he’s used on every other girl to catch his eye. It would take a lot more than a cheap shot to get you back in his bed. You leaned forward, ghosting your lips over his and slowly pulled back, grinning when he chased after you. You were starting to like this game, and that was begging for more trouble than your heart could handle.

“All you bikers are the same,” you whispered, leaning across the bar practically nose to nose. “Sweet talk to get into a girl's panties, and then you’re over it. You all claim it’s love at first sight, but it never is. It’s about the chase, the high. It’s never about the girl.”

Steve sighed. It didn’t sound annoyed, genuinely unsettled by your words, but he wasn’t irritated. More importantly, he wasn’t aggravated with you, but you were sure he felt sorry for you, which bothered you more. When you dropped your gaze, he gently nudged your chin up with his knuckle until you willingly looked up to meet his eyes.“One problem with your theory, firecracker. I’ve already been in those pretty panties of yours, and I’m still chasing you. Did you ever think that maybe I’m not playing with you? That I actually like you?”

The knot wedged in your throat made it impossible to answer. So you shrugged instead and let your silence speak for itself; no, you didn’t think that, and you didn’t trust him. None of what he said proved anything. It didn’t mean he was different. It just meant his rules were. The high would end once he won your heart, and you would be tossed to the side while he moved onto a newer, prettier skirt.

Steve would get bored once he finally earned your heart and your trust, and that made him worse than the others. You would know. You pulled your chin away from his hand but stayed close enough to feel the heat from his hand.

"Go to dinner with me."

"Steve--"

"Y/n," Steve sighed playfully, grinning at the shock on your face. He knew your name, but he still asked for it? He shrugged, reading the question that was burning in your eyes. Natasha. She must have mentioned the new girl she hired, and Steve was smart enough to put two and two together. You weren’t sure you liked him knowing your name. He was that much closer to knowing all your secrets, and you couldn’t let that happen.

"Go. To. Dinner. With me. Please."

You hated how adorable he looked begging and pleading for only a few hours of your time. He was so cute, and you nearly gave in. Your head overruled your heart and reminded you exactly why you weren’t dating men like him. It only led to heartbreak, and you would very much like to avoid spending your nights crying over another beautiful biker who rode off with your heart.

"I told you, I don't want anything serious. I’m not looking for more than what we had."

"It doesn't have to be more than dinner, and I swear if you really don’t want to go on a date with this will be the last time I ask you. I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to, but I am dying to get you back on my bike. Next Saturday night, if you’re up for it. You can even pick the place if you want to. I promise it will be dinner only. No strings."

"No strings?" you questioned, eyeing him for any signs of deceit as you did. There was none. Just an excitable puppy staring back at you, ready to give you whatever you wanted if you’d let him.

"Yeah, why not? We can be friends with benefits or whatever the kids call it nowadays."

"Are we friends?"

"We are if you say yes, darling."

You could feel yourself giving in, and you already hated yourself for it because Steve was grinning victoriously, eyes bright, and pleading with you to say yes. You held up one finger ready with your conditions, and Steve quickly grabbed your hand, pressing a kiss to the back, lost in the excitement of what he already knew was about to leave your lips.

“One dinner, and I’m not promising any benefits.”

Steve lowered your hand and tilted his chin an inch, so his lips were brushing yours when he whispered, “Good. I prefer to earn every one of those sweet whimpers.”

Someone behind you cleared their throat, and you quickly yanked your arm back, bumping into the wall of bottles behind you, causing the glass to rattle against each other. Bucky’s eyes flicked back and forth between you, and it didn’t take long for him to put it together. A slow grin stretched on Bucky’s face, quickly turning smug. He knew about your one-night stand, not in any detail but that you liked your mystery man far more than you should, and you assumed Steve shared his thoughts on that evening. You narrowed your eyes at the brunet when he opened his mouth, and it quickly snapped shut—grabbing the empty crates at your feet needing something, anything to use as an excuse to get as far away from both of them as you could. The fridge in the basement was the furthest you could get at the moment, and that was precisely where you were headed.

“Don’t even say it,” you hissed as you pushed past Bucky.

Bucky watched as Steve’s eyes followed you until you were out of sight, disappearing down the stairs behind the bar. He looked drunk, maybe a little high, and definitely a little lovesick.

“Gettin’ into trouble again, Stevie?”

“You could say that, Buck,” Steve sighed helplessly. “I’m getting into something. Not sure what just yet.”

Prologue // next

#biker!steve rogers #Biker!Steve Rogers x reader #Steve rogers x reader #Steve Rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #Steve x you #Steve x reader #modern au #alternate universe #MC!AU #MC!Steve Rogers

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sweet-barnes · 4 years

Text

All Bikers are Hells Angels - one

Pairing: biker!Bucky x reader

Word Count: 3014

Summary: When Y/N’s older brother Steve gets into a near fatal accident, she’s the emergency contact. The notorious biker gang she finds littering the hospital is unexpected and so is the news that Steve is the leader’s best friend and right hand man, the infamous James Buchanan Barnes.

Warnings: hospitals and talk of injuries, nothing too graphic though

A/N: I hit 2.5k followers last night so I’m posting this a little earlier to say thank you! I really hope you enjoy this, I’m very excited for this new series, as always feedback is always appreciated!

Series Masterlist

You were definitely driving over the speed limit. At least by 20mph but you didn’t care enough to slow down. You just knew you had to get there quickly or you might regret it.

It was dark and every time you passed a street light on the long stretching road, it lit up your tear stained face. You hadn’t bothered to clean up properly after the phone call, you just jumped straight into your car and rushed off towards the hospital.

You had been out with your friends, having a casual dinner with them like you did every other week when your phone started vibrating against the table. You were about to decline the call and carry on with your conversation - you didn’t usually answer unknown number - but when you saw the location you knew you had to answer. Brooklyn. It was where your older brother had moved to just a year ago.

The news ripped through you. “Your brother has been in a road accident, he’s stable but the damage is severe, is there any way you can get here?” The unfamiliar voice didn’t want to discuss much more on the phone, thinking it was better to talk in person.

So as your body and mind went numb, you made your way back inside. Your girls instantly recognised the look in your eyes, they had only seen it once before when your mother had passed away. “It’s Steve, I have to go,” you managed to get out when they asked you what had happened.

You made your way out of the restaurant, into the car park and once you were settled into the drivers seat of your car, it all came gushing out. You cried for nearly 15 minutes before it finally eased enough for you to control your breathing.

You didn’t even know the details but you didn’t need to. You knew Steve was broken and you weren’t even there to help. It would take you at least 3 hours to get to the hospital if you stuck to the speed limits, but you obviously didn’t plan on that tonight.

It had been 2 hours since you had set off and you were now coming into the city. It was another half an hour before you reached the hospital car park. You found the closest parking space and jumped out of your car, racing to the entrance.

You navigated your way to A&E. “Steve Rogers,” your voice was breathy as you asked for your brother. You were directed to a room and as you were making your way down the corridor, you felt your heart beating out of your chest.

You didn’t know what you were going to find on the other side of that door when you reached it. You knew it was going to be bad but you were never going to be prepared for it.

It seemed like the walk took forever, and you felt like you were starting to hallucinate as you noticed rugged men and woman lining the corridor leading up to Steve’s room. They were all wearing leather jackets, a matching ‘A and D’ symbol stitched onto the back of them. They all seemed to be eyeing you as you passed but you didn’t pay them much attention.

Your only focus right now was Steve.

After what seemed like quite a walk, you reached Steve’s room. You took a deep breath, steadying yourself before knocking twice and slowly opening the door. You peeked your head around first, the sterile smell hitting you instantly and it didn’t take long for your eyes to land on your brother.

The air seemed to be knocked from your lungs at the sight. He was shirtless and you didn’t think you could count the amount of wires and tubes coming from his body. His skin was littered with hues of purple and red and everything seemed to be swollen. A cast was taking over his right arm and both of his legs.

The doctor noticed your presence and ushered you in. You nodded and swallowed. You felt like you could pass out any minute, but you slowly made your way into the room and quietly shut the door behind you.

“You must be Y/N Rogers, yes?” The doctor asked gently. He had a kind face, with a worried look seeping into his features. You simply nodded. Your eyes kept flitting between the doctor and Steve and you seemed to notice a new cut or bruise every time you looked at your brother.

“He’s in pretty bad shape at the minute, he was involved in major car crash at an intersection, his motorbike was hit by a truck that went through a red light just as it changed,” the doctor’s words caused panic and confusion.

His motorbike? Steve didn’t even know how to drive one of those things so how has he ended up being hit by a truck on one? This was definitely something you’d be asking him about when he woke up, you weren’t willing to let it slip that easy.

“What’s exactly wrong with him?” Your voice was barely above a whisper but the doctor heard it in the quiet room, the only other sound being the beeping of the heart monitor and the ventilator.

“Well, he’s suffered multiple broken bones and fractures, one of those being a broken rib which caused a puncture in one of his lungs, shattered glass from the truck caused a few burst veins, he has concussion-“

The list seemed to drawl on and you zoned out. As much as you needed to know what was wrong, you wished you didn’t have to. You didn’t want to see Steve in this way.

He was always the strong older brother. He looked after you, it wasn’t supposed to be you looking after him. He always kept you on the good path, always made sure you were safe and well looked after and now this had happened.

It wasn’t long before the formalities with the doctor were over and he left with you a “don’t hesitate to ask anything else, if you can’t find me, just ask at the desk.”

You watched as the door slowly shut behind him and you were left alone in the room with Steve. It took you a second before you looked back around at him but when you did, you instantly felt the tears begin to flow again.

You took the seat next to his bed and shuffled as close as you could, taking hold of his left hand. It was the only thing that didn’t seem to be damaged, yet you were still as gentle as you could be with it, you didn’t want to cause anymore harm to the boy.

“Steve,” you breathed out. You clenched your eyes shut and when you opened them again, your teardrops had collected on your eyelashes and everything seemed distorted. You didn’t mind though, Steve seem in less pain that way.

He didn’t wake up for the rest of the night and you didn’t leave his side. Not even for some food or a drink. You needed to be there the minute he woke up and you weren’t going to risk it so you could get a snack.

The nurses and doctor worked around you throughout the night, doing their routine checks and making sure everything was going smoothly. They would always greet you with a warm smile and ask how you were to be polite. They knew you weren’t alright, your brother was unconscious in front of you.

It was 5 in the morning when Steve’s doctor came back in, a sandwich and drink in hand. “Here, I brought you these, you need to look after yourself,” he said, handing over the items. You seemed shocked by his kindness and it must have shown on his face.

“I have a little sister about your age and I know she wouldn’t have eaten anything if this had happened to me, you remind me of her, it seems like you’re practically the same person.” You both let out a small chuckle and you thanked him for the food.

“He’ll pull through,” he said after a short pause. “He’s a fighter, I can tell, it’ll take some time for him to fully recover but he’ll get there.”

That was definitely something you needed to hear. It set off the spark of hope in the back of your head that made you realise that no matter what happens, the Rogers siblings can get through anything. You’ve proved it before and you can do it again.

It was in the evening the next day when Steve finally opened his eyes. Unfortunately, his timing was as bad as always because you had just gone for a toilet break.

When you arrived back at his room, you noticed the same rugged, leather wearing group gathered in the corridor but you didn’t linger too long. You needed to get inside and see your brother.

The doctor was asking him general questions when closed the door behind you but Steve’s attention quickly switched from the man to you and a smile broke out onto his face. “Hey, lil sis,” he said, his voice was gravely as he spoke. You could tell it hadn’t been used in a while.

You’d made your way to his left side and you were beaming down at him. “Hey, big bro,” you replied just as gently. You felt yourself tearing up, “you scared me just then.” You grabbed his hand and he reciprocated the action, giving your hand a little squeeze, it must have been all the energy he had at that moment.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for it to happen,” you simply nodded, looking back at the doctor for him to carry on his checks.

It only took another 5 minutes before he left the two of you alone, sending you a hopeful smile as he disappeared. You had taken your well worn seat and now you were just staring at Steve as he stared back at you.

“I mean it, I’m sorry for scaring you like this,” Steve eventually said. You pursed your lips, this probably wasn’t the right time but you needed to know. “I’m just wondering why you were on a motorbike in the first place Steve, since when could you drive one of those?” You tried to keep your voice as calm as possible, trying to be jokey towards the end of your question.

“Y/N, don’t act like I’m not a badass, you know I am,” he responded, causing you to roll your eyes and giggle. “Okay Stevie, so you’re a big bad biker now?” That only made him laugh but he soon stopped and wheezed. “Oh, I’m sorry Stevie,” you instantly felt deflated that you couldn’t even laugh with him.

“Don’t worry about it, Y/N,” Steve managed to reply when he controlled his breathing. “Anyway, I met some guys while I was out here, got myself a really good friend who just so happens to own a garage and is a biker, so he helped me out and yes, before you say anything, I got my license, I’m not stupid.” “Well, lucky you Stevie, well done on the new friends,” you giggled. Then it suddenly clicked.

“He’s a biker? Is he in a gang?” The edge in your voice only made Steve roll his eyes. “Don’t freak out like you usually do, and you don’t have a right to say anything to me seen as though you ended up in a weird cult at one point.” You cut him off at that point, “it was not a cult! They just liked weird stuff, okay?”

Steve only shook his head, “he’s in a biker gang, but they’re good people, not like those Hells Angels type.” You couldn’t help the groan that came tumbling out of your mouth.

“Stevie, I love you but sometimes you can be so stupid,” you leaned back in your chair and glared at him. You couldn’t believe he had moved away from home and then joined a biker gang! With the amount of trouble he had saved you from, you thought he would have more common sense for himself.

“Don’t knock them until you meet them, they’re different from what you’re thinking,” Steve said gently and you didn’t have the heart to argue with him while he was in this state so you let it be for now.

You slowly went back to normal conversation, updating Steve on some new things that had happened back home. How your favourite café had been renovated and you’d bought a new bookshelf because yours was overflowing.

He was just drifting off to sleep at about 10pm when he woke up a bit more and said “go and get yourself comfy back at my apartment, there’s a spare key in the plant pot next to the door, I can’t have you staying here all night.”

“No, I’m fine Ste-“ he cut you off as soon as he knew you were going to suggest staying in this small room another night. “Y/N,” was all he needed to say in that voice before you gave in and agreed to go. He gave you the address and you gave him a goodbye kiss on the forehead before making your way out.

“If you need anything, just get someone to call and I’ll be right here,” you told him as you were walking to the door. “Yes, mum,” he mused. You just scoffed and left him to rest for the night. He never changes, even when half of his body is broken.

Once again, the leather army in the corridor was present and you couldn’t help but notice the large figure that seemed to be at the forefront of the group. He dark hair and dark beard made his blue eyes pop with colour. His leather jacket looked well loved and the amount of badges and patches that were sewn or pinned on let you know he had been doing this for a while.

You caught his eyes and his gaze seemed to pierce straight through you. His face stayed stone cold, not even breaking into a small smile as he looked you up and down. He didn’t even try to be subtle about it.

“Do you mind?” You couldn’t help yourself and your features turned into a grimace as his eyes flickered up to meet yours.

“Not at all, doll,” his Brooklyn accent was strong and his voice was as smooth as honey, but his words grated on your nerves.

You rolled your eyes before speeding up your walk down hallway. You needed to get out of here.

It was pitch black outside Steve’s apartment and the flickering streetlight didn’t provide any help when walking up to the entrance. Inside however, was quite homely. The stairs were well lit but you decided to take the elevator up. You didn’t get much sleep the night before and it was finally catching up to you. You didn’t think you’d be able to make it up all those flights of stairs.

You reached the floor and then the door number that Steve had told you and the small plant outside looked like it was waiting to be knocked over. “You couldn’t have been more obvious, Stevie?” You mumbled to yourself but you tilted the pot and picked up the small silver key underneath.

You were grateful to be inside and it felt like you were back at home when you walked in. Cream walls and dark furniture scattered the place, family photos hung on the walls and in frames and the occasional plant was placed in just the right spot.

It wasn’t long before you were rooting through the fridge with one of your brother’s t-shirts on. You quickly put together a snack and made your way to his bed, getting comfy for the night. You didn’t realise how much you needed this sleep and it wasn’t long before you drifted off.

This time, you came to the hospital prepared. You found a canvas bag in Steve’s room which you emptied and filled with snacks for the day. This way, you didn’t have to leave Steve and you didn’t have to eat boring sandwiches all day.

“Good morning, Stevie,” you called out as you entered the room, and when you turned around from closing the door, you noticed someone was in your seat. Your eyes narrowed as you recognised the face.

“Hey, lil one,” Steve greeted you but your eyes didn’t move from the other man in the room. “This is Bucky, he’s the friend I was telling you.”

So, now you had a name to the face. It was a stupid one, you had to admit, who named their kid Bucky?

“Bucky,” you repeated, looking at Steve and then back at the man you now knew as Bucky. He cleared his throat, “you can call me James if that’s too hard,” the sarcasm dripped from his words and you scoffed.

“No, it’s just stupid,” you responded before moving next to Steve and sitting in the only other seat. “Y/N,” Steve warned but you just shook your head. “If it wasn’t for him, Steve, you wouldn’t have nearly died, so no I will not show him my respect.”

You couldn’t hide your sudden hate for the man in the room. What gives him the right to think he can teach your brother how to ride a bike and then not look out for him from then on.

“Well, that’s my cue to leave,” James stood up with a sigh and patted Steve on the arm. You eyed him the whole time as he said his goodbyes and he simply gave you a glare before leaving.

“Don’t be so hard on him, you’re not the only one that’s hurting Y/N,” Steve tried to reason with you but you weren’t having any of it. “No, Steve, this is his fault and I won’t let him forget it.”

Part Two

#all bikers are hells angels #biker!bucky #biker au #biker!bucky x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #james buchanan barnes

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