Summary: Y/n’s dad is up to something, and Sebastian will figure out what it is. Even if it kills him.
Warning: Alcohol, angst, feelings, daddy issues???, hints of stalking, hints at dark past
A/n: We’ll get to see a little bit more about Sebastian in this part!
Sebastian takes a sip of his drink as he stares out the window, clenching his jaw. He’s been watching you through the window for a while, long enough to watch your bedtime routine. It’s been a week since you left his house in a fit of rage, meaning it’s been a week since he last had his hands on you.
He’s not tried, but he knows if he texted you right now, you’d ignore it.
He almost felt bad about what he did, until he remembered the kind of girl you are. You’re the kind of girl that grew up riding horses and going to debutante balls. You’re the kind of girl that’s never had to work for anything in your life, despite what you think.
You might’ve gotten into a good college, but your dad was the one that donated a large sum of money to the school board. You might’ve bought the bakery in your name, but your dad was the one that blackmailed the previous tenants into selling.
Sebastian knows you think you’re too good for a man like him.
A man that teamed up with his dad’s rival to dethrone him from his own business. A man who has no shame about murdering someone in cold blood. A man who watched you for two years and used his friend to get to you.
Soon after taking over his dad’s business, Sebastian saw you through the window of your bakery. He decided right then and there that he had to have you. He just had to be smart about it.
He knew you weren’t the type of girl to go for a man like him, so he’d have to be patient. But he also knew you were the type of girl who wanted some excitement in her life. While you may never go for the ringleader of the country’s biggest mafia, you might go for one of his men, just to get a glimpse of danger.
Sebastian’s been with women like you. The kind of woman that wants excitement, but goes running back home to her sophisticated husband at the end of the night. He vowed he’d never get involved with another woman, especially one like that, until he saw you.
Sebastian had Landon visit you every week, easing his way closer to you. He had him clean up his appearance for you, to keep you comfortable. Sebastian rented the apartment across the road from you, giving him a perfect view of you talking to your girlfriends on the phone about this new man.
Nobody knows about the small apartment, not even his closest men. It’s where he runs when the business gets overwhelming, when all he needs is you.
He watched you gush and blush about a man you barely knew, which somehow excited you more. When he knew Landon had you, he made an appearance himself, drawing you in. His original plan was to invite you to the dinner party to make a move, knowing the excitement of the boss wanting you would be enough for you to forget about Landon.
But when he found out about Landon stealing his money minutes before the dinner party, plans changed. Sebastian was worried the murder would send you running, until he watched you cry on the sidewalk. It wasn’t a cry of shame, or terror.
It was a cry for who you used to be. He knew that cry, because he had cried that same cry before. It was the same cry he cried after watching his dad murder a man, when he realized he’d never be the same again.
He’d never be normal, because he liked it. Like you, he didn’t like the fact that someone died, he just liked how powerful he felt.
That’s why he manipulated his dad into giving him the business.
After Sebastian saw that, he knew you’d be back for more. He knew you could handle it, you could handle him.
Despite Sebastian’s obsession with you, he knows he can never have you. Not in the way he wants. He wants to hold you close, move you in with him, to take care of you. He wants so badly to give you everything you deserve.
If he wants you, he’ll have to play it safe. No feelings, no love, just you.
—-
“Come in,” You shout, looking over your shoulder. You’re in the kitchen, preparing dinner, listening as footsteps get closer to you. You make eye contact with your dad, flashing him a smile.
“Hey, dad,” You say, watching him take off his suit jacket. Your dad places the jacket on the back of the kitchen chair, walking toward you. He presses a kiss to your cheek, standing beside you. “How have you been? I haven’t heard anything from you lately,”
Your smile fades slightly, before a fake one grows on your lips. You don’t want your dad to know anything’s wrong, because what would you tell him? That you witnessed a murder and might have feelings for the person that did it?
Your dad is the best man you know, he’s always been the perfect husband and father. If he knew what his daughter was like, he’d be distraught.
“Nothing’s wrong… I’m just stressed about the bakery,” You lie, hoping he can’t see right through you. He stares at you for a moment, before simply shrugging his shoulders. “I have an idea,” He says, glancing over at you.
“Hm?” You mutter, stirring the liquid in the pot. Your dad has always helped you out when you’re stressed, he’s always been the one person you can count on.
“The cabin I have, you should go there. Spend a couple days alone, clear your head… I’ll take care of everything while you’re gone.” He says. The way he says ‘everything’ sends a chill down your spine, but you don’t know why. He’s just trying to help out, why do you have a bad feeling?
“Oh, I don’t know, dad.” You answer, turning the heat off of the stove. It doesn’t sound like a bad idea, but you’re a complete control freak… You don’t want anyone else running your business. And honestly… you don’t want to be too far away from Sebastian…
Just in case he decides to apologize.
You tried not to think about him, after what happened, but you can’t help it. You tried to be disgusted with the fact that Sebastian practically fucked you in his kitchen with people upstairs, but you couldn’t be.
You definitely should, but you find it hot. You find it incredibly hot. Knowing Sebastian wanted you so bad that he didn’t care about who was around… It’s an absolute wet dream.
Your dad reaches out and grabs your spoon, stopping your stiring motions. “I insist, y/n. In fact, you’ll go tonight.”
You furrow your eyebrows, taking a step back. You’ve never seen your dad like this. He has a certain anger in his eyes that you’re not used to. Your dad has always been fun, goofy… Never angry. Never demanding. “What’s going on? I don’t want to go,” You say, feeling more like a child than you ever have.
Your dad chooses to ignore you, turning and walking into your bedroom. You’re right on his heels, your heart hammering against your chest. You watch as he reaches in your closet, grabbing your “go bag”.
Growing up, your dad insisted everyone in your family have a go bag; a bag full of things you would need if you ever had to leave in a hurry. Clothes, hygiene products, cans of food, chargers, cash. You never knew it wasn’t normal until you got to college and realized no one else’s family had done that.
“I’m not leaving!” You shout, tears welling up in your eyes. You don’t know why you’re crying, but you’ve never been more confused. This has never happened, your dad has never insisted you go away. Your dad shoves the bag into your arms, storming out into the living room. “You will, even if that means I have to drive you there myself.” He says, opening your door.
Fear settles in your chest, your breath trapped in your chest. Something’s not right. You don’t know what it is, but you can feel it in your bones.
You push your way past your dad, pulling your phone out of your pocket and dialing your store manager’s number. You don’t know what’s going to happen, but you know you have to make sure your business is being taken care of.
The phone rings several times before Kate picks up, confusion in her voice. You never call her on her day off, it’s something you take pride in. But right now, you need her. “Kate, I need you to listen,” You start, opening your car door. You throw your bag in the backseat of your car, holding the phone between your cheek and shoulder.
“I need you to watch over the store for a while. I’m going to be out of town for a few days.” You say, starting your car up. You look over your shoulder, watching as your dad locks your house door. You press on the gas, watching as dust flies behind your car.
“What? What are you talking about?” Kate asks. You start driving, subconsciously driving to Sebastian’s house. You’re not sure why that was your first thought, but you assume it’s something to do with wanting to feel safe— and Sebastian makes you feel safe.
Isn’t it ironic? You’ve watched this man murder someone, yet he makes you feel safe.
You keep your eyes on the road, the trees and building signs zipping by you at 80 mph. “You know where the key is, you know how to run the store. I just need you to handle everything while I’m away,” You reiterate, trying to get your point across. You know she’s caught off-guard, but you really don’t want to go into any more detail.
Not until you know more yourself.
“Y/n, is everything okay? Is someone hurting you?” She asks, genuine concern in her voice. You chuckle under your breath, taking the turn into Sebastian’s neighborhood. “Everything is fine, Kate. I’ll be back soon,”
You hang up before she has time to argue, needing some time to gather your thoughts before you pull into Sebastian’s driveway. His car isn’t here, but convince yourself it’s in the garage. He has to be here, you need him.
You park near the door, hurrying to his front door. You knock as loud as you can, your heart continuing to race. Something obviously isn’t right, but you don’t know what’s wrong. It’s your dad, he wouldn’t hurt you… Right?
After what feels like forever, Sebastian comes to the door, dressed only in his underwear. The scratches on his chest and his swollen, pink lips make it obvious what he was doing, causing your heart to sink.
Why did you come here?
Sebastian is a playboy. He’s a dangerous man. Why did you expect him to be the one to protect you? He has bigger things to worry about than some girl he’s only met a handful of times. Sebastian furrows his eyebrows, looking you up and down. “Y/n, what are you doing here?”
You shake your head, taking a few steps back. You try to get the words out, but you’re distracted by the naked woman walking up to the door. You suck in a sharp breath as she wraps her arms around Sebastian’s waist, pressing a kiss to his chest. “Come back to bed,” She moans.
Sebastian rolls his eyes, taking her arms off of him. “Get dressed, there’s a $5 on the nightstand for an Uber.” He mutters, his eyes locked onto yours. You listen as the woman scoffs, muttering something under her breath.
“I shouldn’t have come here, you’re obviously busy and I don’t know why I expected you to—“
Before you can finish, Sebastian is stepping outside, shutting the door behind him. He glances over at your running car, noticing the small bag in your passenger seat. “What are you running from?” He asks, his eyes searching yours.
You gulp, looking behind your shoulder at your car. You’re not even sure what to say. “My dad is forcing me to stay at his cabin so I showed up here,”?
“I… My dad, there’s something wrong,” You stutter, brushing your hair behind your ear. The mention of your dad has Sebastian tensing up, his jaw clenching. You’re far too worried to notice.
“What did he do?”
You swallow the lump in your throat, opening your mouth to explain, only to be interrupted by the blonde woman coming outside. She stares you down as she walks to the edge of the driveway, waiting on her car ride. “He didn’t doanything, something just isn’t right. He came to my apartment and insisted I go away for the weekend. He was acting crazy, he was grabbing me and throwing my bag at me, I’ve never seen him like this before,” You explain.
Sebastian’s hair stands up on the back of his neck, realizing your father was much closer than he ever realized. He always knew who your father was and what he did, but he always thought he was two steps ahead of him. He’s known your father since he was a young boy, thanks to his dad.
Sebastian’s dad was smart enough to have someone else do his dirty work for him, and that someone just happened to be your dad. Your dad took out anyone Seb’s dad needed him to. Sebastian has had a burning suspicion that he was out to get him, but he just didn’t know why.
“Go get your bag. You’re staying with me.” Sebastian orders, nodding over to your car. Your eyes widen, laughing humorlessly. “You want me to stay with you?”
Sebastian stares at you blankly, nodding. “Yes, why wouldn’t you?”
You chuckle again, raising your eyebrow. “Well, for one, I’ve watched you kill a man. I also just saw a naked woman walk around your house. So, no, I won’t be staying here,” You say, turning to leave. Sebastian gently grabs your arm, spinning you back around.
He’s smirking, looking you up and down. “You jealous, doll?” He asks. He can see it written all over your face, but he knows you’ll never admit it. You roll your eyes, choosing to ignore the question. You don’t have time to entertain his ridiculous questions.
Sebastian’s smile fades, turning into a more serious expression. “I’m serious, you need to stay here. This house is more protected than the White House, and you know that. You’ll be safer here than anywhere,” He says, leaning against the doorframe. You sigh, realizing just how right he is.
“Fine,” You start, looking up at Sebastian. You raise an eyebrow as his eyes light up, a smile growing across his face. “Butthere will be absolutely no funny business. I’ll have my own room, my own bathroom, and you’ll be respectful of my boundaries,” You order.
Warning: mentions of guns, murder, mafia!sebastian, cheating (not involving reader), dark themes obvs, angst,
Summary: When a customer offers to take you on a date, you never imagined you’d end up with blood on your dress.
A/n: This is different for me, but I think I really like it! Obviously there’s going to be another part, so keep your eye out for this new series!
“And that’ll be $24.99,” You say, flashing a smile at your customer. You watch as she walks out, carrying her small bag. The bakery is busy with workers— some cleaning up tables, some baking fresh goodies, some putting away supplies…
The soft music overhead seems to fade out when he walks in. You never get used to seeing him walk through those doors. You always expect it, but somehow, it always catches you off guard.
Ever since you opened your bakery up two years ago, he’s come in every single Wednesday. Without fail.
He always buys the same thing, 2 rainbow cake pops and a bottle of water to wash it down. The first time he came in, you had to have someone else to check him out. You were so flustered you could barely focus.
His blonde hair and blue eyes were too much for you to handle.
“Y/n, how are you today?” Landon asks, walking up to the counter. His broad shoulders are covered with a brown leather jacket, complimenting his forest green sweater perfectly.
You blush, jerking your head over to your baking station. “Follow me, wanna show you something,” You say, completely ignoring his question. You reach behind your waist and tighten your apron, wanting it to look as flattering as possible.
Even though Landon’s been coming in the store for two years, he’s never seen you outside of work. You keep thinking he’ll ask you on a date, or even ask for your number, but he never does. He only sees you with your hair in a bun, flour in your hair, and dressed in an old apron.
Landon follows you to where your mixer is, curiosity running through his veins. “Don’t tell me you’re tweaking your recipes,” He starts, raising an eyebrow. He looks around your counter, seeing your ingredients spread out. “You know what I always say— don’t mess with perfection,”
You giggle quietly as you pick up a small cupcake, topped with rainbow icing. You motion for Landon to take a bite, your smile spreading across your face. You had been working on this recipe for weeks, wanting to get it just right.
Landon closes his eyes as he takes a bite, his pink lips grazing your dainty fingers. Your heart skips a beat as you wait for his response, the noise of the bakery drowning out in the background. Landon hums as he licks his lips, a smile spreading out across his face. “This is amazing, y/n, what is this?”
“It’s the same thing as the cake pops you order, just—“
“Lando!” You hear a voice ring out, causing your head to snap to the bakery door. There’s a tall man standing in the doorway, his arms open, a smug smirk on his face. He’s dressed in a black suit, rings decorating his slender fingers.
Landon’s body language changes immediately, his shoulders tensing up and his smile vanishing. You move your head back to Landon, a confused look on your face. You don’t know anything about the man at the door, but you know something’s not right.
Before you can ask Landon who his friend is, the man at the door walks behind the counter, eyeing you up and down. You’ve never felt more naked.
“You can’t come back here,” You say, meeting his eyes. The man seems uncomfortable with the eye contact, but he doesn’t back down.
“Landon, introduce me to your friend,” He says, extending his hand. You flicker your eyes down to his knuckles, noticing the bruises hiding under the gold rings. Landon clears his throat, nodding over to you.
“Uh, this is y/n,” He says, grimacing as Sebastian chuckles deeply. Sebastian looks you up and down, licking his lips. You can feel a shiver run up and down your spine, practically shrinking your image. You don’t like the way he’s staring at you, you’ve never had someone look at you like this.
Sebastian tears his eyes from you, looking back at Landon. “This is the one you’ve been talking about, huh?” He asks, a smug look on his face. Your heart skips a beat as you imagine Landon talking about you.
It’s clear these men are friends, but you can’t ever imagine them interacting together. Landon is so… Soft. He eats rainbow cake pops and giggles and blushes.
The man before you is so rugged. Dressed in black, bruises on his knuckles, smug.
“Why don’t you ask her on a date?”
The question— no, order— takes you by surprise. For years, you’ve been flirting with Landon with no date in sight. What is this man’s end game? Why, after 2 years, is he in your bakery, demanding Landon to take you on a date?
Landon clears his throat, doing his best to fake a smile. If you were anybody else, it would convince you. “Sebastian is hosting a dinner party Friday. I’d love if you came with me,”
Dinner party? Sebastian? It only now occurs to you that you were never properly introduced to the man, only telling him your name. Sebastian doesn’t seem like the type to host a dinner party.
He seems like the type to scoff at dinner parties.
But still, Landon is asking you on a date. Who are you to question what Sebastian likes or doesn’t like? You’ve been waiting on this for two years.
So, you smile, your cheeks blushing. “I’ll be there,”
————
Your eyes widen as the house comes into view, the reality of your date setting in. You were shocked when Landon pulled up in a luxury car, the red leather matching your black dress perfectly, but nothing could’ve prepared you for this fucking mansion.
“Is this yours?” You ask, breathless. The car ride there was silent, except for the occasional question here and there. You can’t help but notice Landon is completely different outside of the bakery.
His jokes, his laughter, his charisma… It’s all gone.
You chalk it up to the nervousness of the date, forcing yourself to relax and enjoy the moment. Landon glances over at you as he puts the car in park, behind the many other black cars in the driveway. “No, this is Sebastian’s place. It’s been in his family for years,” He says, unbuckling his seatbelt.
Sebastian.
You’d almost forgotten the arrogant man would be here. After all, it is his party you’re going to.
“Speaking of Sebastian, what’s up with him?” You ask, watching as Landon gets out of the car. You keep your eyes on him as he walks to your side, opening your door. His black dress shirt is tight against his biceps, his gold chain dangling from his neck.
Landon chuckles lightly, shaking his head. “He’s something, that’s for sure,”
He leads you to the doorway, placing his hand on the small of your back. The gesture forms butterflies in your stomach, distracting you from the way Landon uses a key to get into the house. As the door opens, music floods your ears, lights glaring in your face.
There are close to a hundred people in the large room, all dressed in their best. Suddenly, you feel insecure about your choice of outfit. Sure, you look good, but not as good as some of these women.
“Lando!” You hear a voice shout, causing you to roll your eyes. You’d hoped you be able to avoid Sebastian for at least a little bit. You don’t know what it is about Sebastian that you can’t stand, but you’d prefer if you never had to see him again.
Landon stiffens beside of you, chuckling nervously. You watch as Sebastian makes his way over to you, a smug smile on his face. Once again, he’s dressed in a dark suit, his hair slicked back. You can’t deny he’s a good looking guy, but you can’t get over how cocky he is.
“Seb,” Landon says, moving his hand from your back, extending it to shake Sebastian’s hand. Sebastian keeps his eyes on you the whole time, looking you up and down.
“Y/n,” He says, his voice dropping. You can’t be bothered to respond to him, knowing he’ll take whatever you say and spin it. You scoff, walking off, over to where the open bar is. You quickly order your fruity drink, already ready to end this night.
You wish your first date with Landon would’ve been something else, something different, but you’ll take what you can get after your ex-boyfriend. You haven’t been on a date in YEARS, thanks to your pickiness and your standards. You can feel Sebastian staring a hole through you, unfamiliar with women brushing him off.
Sebastian clears his throat, raising the glass in his hand. The light music stops, the dancing coming to a halt. “Now that everyone is here, we can finally enjoy the party,” He announces, catching your attention.
He was waiting for you for the party to begin?
You shake your head, slightly rolling your eyes. Why did your absence from the party make a difference? And what does he even mean, anyway? The party seemed to be doing just fine without you. Sebastian walks the perimeter of the room, his eyes on each person he passes.
Most people are frozen– because of fear or interest, you don’t know.
The overhead light shines down on him, your eye catching the glimpse of the gun tucked in the back of his pants. The gun heightens your attention, your blood pumping through your veins. Why is this civilian carrying a gun? It’s not something you see every day, certainly not at such a formal event.
Then again, you know Sebastian is no ordinary man, despite only meeting him twice.
“Most of you know why we’re here, right? To celebrate 15 years in the business,” Sebastian announces, glancing over at an older man. The older man resembles Sebastian, except for the grey hair and the extra weight.
“Well, 15 years since dad so kindly handed the business over to me,”
You sense tension in the room, but you’re not sure why. Everyone seems to be having a good time. Everyone seems to be completely focused on Sebastian.
The room is completely silent, which is not what you expected. You expected the room to explode in applause and whistles, congratulating their friend for his success in “The Business”. You grip your drink tighter, suddenly feeling claustrophobic.
This isn’t right.
You dare to be the first person to move, making your way to Landon, who’s frozen in his spot. “I want to leave,” You whisper, your eyes darting across the room.
You wouldn’t say you’ve necessarily been sheltered your whole life, but you’ve never felt like this before. You’ve never felt so unsure of what was happening, but so sure that your safety is in jeopardy. Sebastian goes silent again, your hair standing up on the back of your neck.
You hear his steady footsteps against the hard floor, stopping when he’s less than a foot away from you. “What some of you don’t know is that we’ve had money missing,”
You tear your eyes away from Landon, standing next to him, your eyes meeting Sebastian’s.
Money?
Your chest rises and falls as you try to regulate your heart rate. Everything in you is telling you to run.
So why can’t you?
Out of the corner of your eye, you see 10 men step out from the crowd, standing slightly behind the man in front of you. You can’t help but to notice something you’ve not noticed before.
“Money, that I’m fairly certain I left Landon to watch over,” Sebastian says, his arm reaching behind his back. Your head snaps over to Landon, your eyes wide. Has he stolen money from Sebastian? You didn’t take him as a criminal.
Why would Landon take money from his boss? What business does Sebastian run?
Landon swallows the lump in his throat, his throat tightening. When you look back at the men in front of you, Sebastian has a gun pointing at Landon’s head. You can’t process it before Sebastian is ordering Landon to get on his knees.
You stare back at Sebastian, your eyes filling with tears. This isn’t how you expected your first date to go. Your life is in danger because of this man, because of this stranger. You thought after two years of flirting back and forth, seeing him every week, you knew him.
But you were wrong.
You’re not sure what kind of “business” Sebastian is running, but you’re fairly certain you won’t be making it out alive.
“What a shame, huh? I really liked you,” Sebastian says, keeping eye contact with Landon. He smirks, letting out a deep chuckle. “Liked your wife better, though,”
You suck in a sharp breath as Landon clenches his jaw, staring up at Sebastian. “What did you do to my wife?!” He shouts, his face red.
Wife.
Your bottom lip starts trembling, blindsided by this news. Sebastian turns his head to you, his smile gone, replaced by a pitied pout. “Aw, I’m sorry sweetheart. I didn’t want you to find out this way, but something had to be done,” He pouts, his voice laced with humor.
Your attention is brought back to the gun when Sebastian takes a step forward, pressing the barrel of the gun to Landon’s forehead. You tear your eyes away, looking out into the crowd. They all seem so unphased; why isn’t anyone doing anything?
Why isn’t anyone calling the cops?
Before you can put two and two together, a loud bang rings out beside you, followed by a loud thump. No one in the crowd even flinches, but you jump out of your skin, traumatized. You feel the stickiness of the blood splattered on your skin, on your dress, but you can’t do anything about it.
You bring yourself to look beside you, your eyes filling with tears as you watch blood pool out of Landon’s head. With a simple whistle, Sebastian’s 10 men are moving to drag Landon out of the room, without so much as an explanation.
Sebastian turns his back to you, opening his arms. “Let’s get back to it,” He shouts, earning cheers from the crowd. You stand, frozen, tears running down your cheeks. While everyone else is dancing and drinking, you’re left to deal with what just happened.
If it wasn’t clear before, it’s clear now: Something is deathly wrong with this party.
You drop your glass, letting it shatter at your feet. You grasp your dress, your feet running before your mind can even catch up. You weave and bob through the people, pushing the front door open. Your heart is pounding in your chest, your breath stinging in your throat. You run until you can no longer hear the music, until you can no longer smell the smell of death.
You’re not sure where you are, or how long you’ve been running, but you sit down on the sidewalk, sobbing. Your feet are aching, your legs are burning, and you can hear the sound of the gunshot ringing in your ears.
You try to figure out exactly where it all went wrong. Was it when Landon first walked into your bakery? Was it when he finally made a move? Was it when Sebastian walked in?
You go back to every Wednesday for two years, wondering what you could’ve done differently to avoid this. You should’ve saw the signs, you should’ve known he was married, should’ve known he worked for some psychopath.
You bury your face in your hands, your tears drying against your bloodstained cheeks.
What do you do after this? Do you go back to work and pretend nothing happened? Do you go to the cops?
What do you do when someone you barely knew gets murdered?
What do you do when you watch someone get murdered?
What do you do when you like the rush of it all?
What do you do when you like the way your adrenaline runs through your body?
What do you do when you like the idea of having a dirty secret?
What do you do when you like the way the murder made you feel?
Summary: When you’re home alone, you convince yourself that Bucky deserves more
Warning: insecure reader, angst, throwing up, heartbreak, i don’t mean any hate toward natasha during this fic, let’s be honest if my bf was hanging around natasha i’d be insecure, have you seen her???
A/n: was requested (@scorpionchild81) but put my own spin on it to fit my 1k celebration! sorry it’s so short :(
You grip the toilet tighter as you throw up, tears rolling down your cheeks. You’ve been throwing up for what seems like hours, but you’ve been crying for weeks. This happens every time Bucky goes on a mission, leaving you all alone. Things are perfect when Bucky is home, but as soon as he leaves… The doubt sets in.
You don’t hear from him for weeks sometimes, you don’t know where he is, who he’s with… You know Bucky loves you, but should he?
How could he really love you, when Natasha is right there next to him? She’s a badass! She’s just like him… She took her trauma and made it into something positive. She’s beautiful, she’s funny, she’s strong…
All you do is sit at home and wait for Bucky to return. You can’t relate to him about much of anything. He’s 100 years old, you’re 23. Natasha might not be able to relate to the age part, but you know how deep their conversations get about their trauma.
Bucky opens up to her about things he won’t dare talk to you about.
You throw up again, your heart breaking in your chest. You don’t know why you even still try to convince him that he should be with you. You know the truth, he should be with Natasha.
You scramble for your phone, dialing Bucky’s number. You haven’t spoken to him since he’s been gone, which hasn’t helped your anxiety. You don’t want to wait until he’s home, you want the relief now. If you’re not with him, you can’t be upset about what he’s doing when he’s gone.
The phone rings, but proceeds to go to voicemail. Your breath hitches in your throat, a tear rolling down your cheek.
“This is Bucky, leave a message. Or don’t, I probably won’t call back either way,”
The sound of his voice has you choking a sob back, your lip trembling. You hear the beep, scrambling to come up with words. “Uh, Bucky… This is y/n,” You say, rolling your eyebrows as you remember he already knows who it is, thanks to caller ID.
“I know you’re busy, but uh, I thought I should tell you now, before you come home,” You say, your voice broken and quiet. You lean your head against the wall behind you, taking a deep breath. You don’t know how to break this to him, especially over the phone.
You know he’ll be better off without you, better off with someone who understands him. “I won’t be home when you come back. I’m sorry, Buck, but I can’t do this anymore. You deserve better, you deserve someone like you,” You say, your voice failing you, sobs taking over. You instantly hang up, not wanting him to hear you cry anymore.
You sob against the bathroom floor, wrapped in his shirt, knowing you’ll never where his clothes again.
—-
You’re in the bathroom of your new apartment, getting ready for bed. You don’t know when Bucky went home, or even if he went home. You’ve blocked his number, not wanting to put yourself through that pain again.
it’s over, there’s no need to rehash things when he gets home. He deserves better, that’s that. You wonder what he did when he got the message. Was he relieved? DId he run to Natasha, telling her that you were gone? Did he even miss you?
No, he doesn’t miss you. You’re not the kind of girl guys miss when it’s over. You’re the kind of girl guys are relieved about when you leave. Finally, the boring nights, meaningless arguments… It’s over.
Natasha is the kind of girl guys miss when it’s over.
You splash water on your face, closing your eyes as the cold water wakes you up. Water runs down your forearms, landing on Bucky’s red henley. You swore you wouldn’t take any of his clothes when you left, but you always did love this shirt.
You inhale deeply, trying to get yourself to relax, to forget about Bucky. You lift your head up, opening your eyes as you stand straight up. Your breath hitches in your throat as you see Bucky standing behind you, his eyes fixed on yours through the mirror.
“Bucky, how the–”
Before you can finish, Bucky is spinning you around, pinning you against the counter. His eyes are red, his lips puffy and his cheeks red. “How could you?” He asks, breathlessly.
You gulp, your bottom lip trembling. It’s obvious he’s been wrecked, just like you have been. It’s obvious you’ve broken his heart.
“Bucky, I had to. You deserve better,” You whisper, your voice breaking.
Bucky shakes his head, furrowing his eyebrows. “Better? I deserve better?”
You push past him, not wanting to be trapped in this tiny bathroom with him. “You need to leave,” You say, trying to convince yourself that’s what you want.
Bucky follows you, using his metal arm to grab your flesh one. The metal of his fingers burn into your skin, digging into your bone. “Tell me, y/n. If I don’t deserve you, what do I deserve?”
You refuse to look at his eyes. You don’t answer, wanting this to be over already. You were at peace with your decision, why did he have to come back?
“Tell me!’ He barks, raising his voice. You finally look at him, watching the tears stream down his face.
"Natasha, alright? You deserve Natasha!” You say, jerking your arm away from him.
Bucky furrows his eyebrows, taking a step back. “Natasha…?” He asks, muttering under his breath. You wipe your eyes, sniffling.
“What are you talking about?”
You shake your head, dropping your eyes to the ground. “You deserve someone like you, Buck. I can’t understand you. I can try, I can pretend I understand you, but there are things I’ll never understand about you, because I’ve never gone through what you’ve gone through. Natasha has… I can never be what you need,” You admit, your tears rolling down your cheeks.
Bucky stares at you blankly, his lips parted. You can see the gears turning in his head, but you can’t tell what he’s thinking. “Y/n… Natasha is a friend. She’s my friend because she understands what I’ve gone through. But… For you to try to put yourself in my shoes… To try to understand me, that’s what makes you a good girlfriend. I don’t need you to understand me, I just need you to love me.” Bucky reassures you, his voice soft.
You keep your eyes on the ground, sniffling quietly.
Bucky moves closer to you, reaching out and wrapping his arms around you. You fall into his touch, snuggling against his chest. “You’re the only thing that makes me feel human. I love Natasha, but part of me still feels like a monster when I’m on a mission. It reminds me of everything I went through. The best part of a mission is coming home to you, coming home and feeling like a human. You’re the only person who makes it all go away,” He says, cradling your head against his chest.
You allow him to hold you, soaking in his presence. The past few days have been horrible. You’ve been trying to distract yourself from the fact that your heart was breaking in two. You missed having Bucky in bed with you. You missed waking up next to Bucky.
You don’t want to be without Bucky, you want to be with him for the rest of your life. You just want him to have what he deserves. You lift your head, sniffling. “You’re sure I’m what you want?” You ask, your voice quiet.
Bucky cradles your face in his bruised hands, a smile slowly creeping across his face. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my entire life,”
Summary: Caught in an anti-hero demonstration, you become an unwilling participant in a political game of tug of war. Tony Stark wants you to be the new poster child for his pro-Avengers rhetoric, Nick Fury wants you to fade into the background, and Bucky Barnes… wants something else from you entirely.
Warnings: Near Death Experience, Noncon, Stalking, Manipulation, Kidnapping, Smut, Breeding. Blackmail, Infidelity, Dark!AU, Grey/Dark Avengers AU, Dead dove Do not eat
A/N: um. i think you all could see the signs that things were about to go from zero to sixty with the ending of the last chapter, but just in case you didn’t, here’s your warning. updated the warnings a bit to reflect the content from here on out! bottom divider by @firefly-graphics!
The work below is my own, and is unbeta’d and unedited. I do not consent for it to be translated and or posted elsewhere by anyone but myself. Minors, DNI!
Bucky leaves shortly after Patrick gets back, and you can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong, very wrong, for the rest of the day. While you shower, as you go through the stretches the physical therapist taught you, as you run loving fingers through Pat’s hair. The wrongness won’t abate, won’t leave you alone.
The Black Widow arrives a few hours later, and declines your hesitant offer to come inside. No thank you, she’d said with a tart smile. I’m better from outside. Patrick is just grateful to have the apartment back, spreading out on the couch and surfing channels aimlessly. You, on the other hand, can’t stop turning over this morning’s events in your head, gnawing at it like a dog with a bone.
The cold hand, the beard, the voice that wasn’t Pat’s—
Your stomach fills with lead.
Youknow what the truth is, but you can barely even think it. It doesn’t make sense, for one, that Bucky would sneak into your room and do that.He’s half a celebrity, and while you buy about half of the populace running away screaming, you know the other half would walk readily right into his bed. There was no need to dally with you.
So why did he?
Why did he pretend to be Patrick, slither between your thighs and—
You clench them shut, your stomach lurching with shame as your cunt pulses at the memory. It isn’t your fault it felt good, you know that, but the shame eats away at you anyway. And Pat—you don’t know how he’d react to the knowledge, and you don’t want to find out. You clench your fists under the knitted blanket Patrick’s mother had given the two of you at your engagement party last year.
You don’t know when you’ll see Bucky next and your stomach flops nervously at the thought of being alone with him after what happened. He’d seemed so nice before, if a little stoic; you don’t understand the shift, can’t make sense of it.
And it certainly doesn’t help that you’re essentially house-bound, unable to drive your car without the go-ahead from Doctor Bradford. You feel trapped, like you’re just waiting for the predator to circle round again, to take another meaty bite out of you.
And what a bite he’d taken.
You can’t find it in yourself to leave your bubble of alternating self-deprecation and loathing for Bucky’s transgression, you’re surprised when Patrick starts getting ready for his night shift. It’s with grim resignation that you watch him step into his nurse’s shoes—the ones you’d teased him about more than once—and pin his tag on his shirt, right onto the pocket, like always.
“Babe? You good? You’ve been quiet all day.” Patrick is shrugging into his scrubs, and his voice rouses you from your anxiety driven fugue. “I can call off if you want.” On one hand, you do, you really do—you want Pat to stay, to help you confront Bucky for what he did to you—
But the larger part of you, the part that echoes with your father’s drilled-in shame, doesn’t even want Patrick to know. You don’t want him thinking of you as damaged goods, the woman who couldn’t even recognize her own fiancé’s voice. His mother already hated you, and you were loathe to give her more reason to mistrust you.
No, better for you to handle this on your own. For once you were glad for the insistent beeping of his pager as they contacted him again—rushing him in, putting a pin back into the grenade of this line of discussion.
“I’m good. Sorry, I’m just tired. I think it’s the pills.” You offer him a watery smile. “You go.” He does, with one last, almost mistrustful look at you over his shoulder.
“Call if you need anything, okay?”
“Okay.”
—
You twiddle your thumbs in the emptiness of your apartment, wondering what you’ll say, what you’ll do when Bucky shows up for guard duty, so much so that when Natasha raps on your door with her knuckles, you almost throw up from nerves.
“I’m headed out,” she says as you pull the door open. “Steve’ll be here shortly, if he’s not here already.” It sends a cool wave of relief through you to know it won’t be Bucky you see next, and you nod gratefully.
“How long, um, do you think we’ll have to do all this?” You ask, steadying yourself against the door. “The whole, um. Bodyguard thing.”
“Probably until the press dies down. Another couple of weeks, at most. We already got a few pings just from presence at the junket.” Her voice is confident, assured. It makes you want to trust her confidence. She turns to leave, but stops, hesitating. “Here, take my number. Just in case. And only for emergencies, understand?” She replies sternly, and you nod quickly.
“Thanks.”
You hobble back to the living room, and begin your best attempt at tidying up with only the use of one hand, a crutch held under the other. When the buzzer rings, you answer with confidence, pressing the intercom button.
“Yes?”
“Hey. It’s me. Can you buzz me in?”
“Oh, Steve. Sure.” You move to press the door button, and the familiar buzz sounds through the speaker. You wait patiently by the door for Steve to get there, tugging open the door as his footfalls approach the landing.
“Hiya, doll.” Bucky grins at you as he rounds the corner. No.You gape at him, unable to speak as you sputter. “Surprised to see me? Steve had something come up, something with the baby—”
You slam the door, sliding the deadbolt across it with trembling fingers. It’s instinct more than anything, but you’re glad for it when his body thuds against the door only a second or two later.
“You need to leave, Bucky,” you say shakily. “Get out of here!”
“Doll, what? Why? Something wrong?” It makes your stomach roll to hear him ask so genuinely, all while the feeling of his hands on your body burns in your memory. He raps on the door hard, and you can hear his heavy breath.
“You… you have to go, Bucky. I know what you did this morning, okay? I… I fucking know!”
There’s silence from the other side of the door, and then a heavy sigh.
“Goddammit.”There’s another knock. “Sweetheart, open the door and let’s talk about it. Come on. Let’s be adults about this.”
There’s a casual kind of coolness in his tone that makes you both angry and terrified, like he’d forseen this outcome—
Planned for it.
“No. You need to leave. You need to leave, a-and I’m going to tell Tony what you did—” This time, it isn’t Bucky’s voice that interrupts you—it’s your own.
“God!”
“What? What is that?”
“F-fuck, I—”
Your face heats as you realize what he’s doing. He’s playing something, a recording—
A recording of this morning.
Before you can think about it, consider what you’re doing, your hands are flying to the locks, practically tearing off the deadbolt.
“Stop, it, shut that off—” The door slams inward, and it narrowly misses pulping you against the wall you as you scramble away. You hit the floor with an oof, your crutches clattering to the ground beside you. “Bucky…”
He tosses you the phone as he steps over the threshold, closing the door behind him. He makes sure to set the lockandthe deadbolt, turning to grin at you over his shoulder.
“For interruptions.” Bucky squats down in front of you, and motions down at the phone in your lap. “Oh, that’s my favorite part.” You don’t want to look down, but it’s like you can’t stop yourself, your eyes drifting to the screen. You watch yourself writhing on your bed, one thick, flesh hand, one metal, holding your thighs apart while Bucky feasts on you.
You toss the phone away as if it’s burned you.
“Why would you do that?” You murmur, hot angry tears gathering in your eyes. He sighs, running a hand through his thick hair.
“I’m sorry, doll. I am. I…” He hesitates, before shrugging, like there’s no point in keeping it from you now. “I thought those pills’d have you under for a little longer.” The apologetic smile he gives you is chilling, instead of relatable. “I just couldn’t wait anymore. I’m not patient, you know?”
“What? What are you—”
“I saved your life.” He states the irrefutable fact with a completely straight face. “Didn’t I?” Bucky reaches forward to brush a lock of hair out of your face, and you go completely rigid at the motion. “You know, there’s some cultures that believe if you save a life, you own it. You know that, doll?”
All of the anger goes out of you at once—and is replaced by ice cold terror.
“I asked you a question sweetheart, please answer me.”
It’s night impossible to swallow the ball of panic in your throat but you manage, somehow.
“Y-yes. I kn-know that.”
“Thank you. In ancient Rome, a savior was regarded as a sort of… second father. But that’s not really what I want. Unless,” Bucky grins cheekily down at you, “you’re into that sort of thing.”
You don’t laugh, and he sighs. “Look, I like you. You’re sweet. And… I can protect you. Patrick can barely keep your heads above water,” he scoffs, shaking his head. “I can’t believe that’s what passes for a man these days.”
The urge to defend your fiancé is tamped down easily by your fear—you know what this man can do.
“I understand it might take some… time. For you to come around. So, I’m prepared to offer you a deal.”
“A deal?” You echo him hoarsely, attempting to blink back tears and failing. “What deal?”
“Well, I’m not going to post your film debut online for the world to see,” he holds up the phone, wiggling it for emphasis. “But I expect certain…allowances in return.” You don’t miss the way his eyes sweep down your body. This time, you can’t hold your tongue.
“What? No! I’m not touching you, I—”
“I get this is new for you doll, and while I’m a… modern man in a lot of ways, I’m not going to tolerate disrespect just because I’m sweet on you.” His eyes go hard. “I could have let you bleed out on the museum floor, after all.” Your breath hitches and time seems to slow as he leans in closer. His large hand is warm on your thigh through your thin leggings.
“Iown you, doll. And depending on which way I spin our beautiful first moment, I can bring down this whole house of cards you’ve built for yourself. This?” He gestures around at your apartment, but you get his larger meaning, “Only lasts as long as I say it does.” He squeezes your thigh, and then reaches up to caress your cheek like a lover, like he hadn’t just delivered a terrifying threat. “So I wouldn’t piss me off. Understand?”
You take a few seconds longer than he’d like to answer, and his lips press into a frown.
“Y-yes, Bucky,” you manage to squeak out around the other words in your throat. “I understand.”
“Good. Let’s get you up, doll. That doesn’t look comfortable at all.” He helps you to your feet with a patience that rivals Pat’s, and you swallow the futile scream that builds when he fixes you with that soft, gentle smile. “Let’s go pick out a movie, or something. We’ve got all night.”
—
Bucky is stifling.
He won’t give you a moment’s peace; standing practically hip to hip with you in the kitchen as you microwave the popcorn, standing over your shoulder as you return texts from your sister that you’d been ignoring—like he was trying to tacitly remind you of his imagined claim on your body, on your soul.
But what did it matter, imagined or not, if he had the power to enforce it?
The last thing you want is for Patrick to see that video, to see the absolute worst of you—for the world to see it. It doesn’t matter now that you’d been an unwilling participant, and if not unwilling then certainly unknowing—no one will believe it, not when they watch you writhing under his touch.
You barely do.
You sit stiffly, holding onto the popcorn in a white-knuckled grip. His metal arm falls around you, and he squeezes you affectionately.
“See?” He says, nuzzling against your throat. Your own breath hitches—both because it’s strangely natural,like the affection is real, and because you’re disgusted with yourself for considering whatever twisted thing he’d built up in his own head as valid for even a second. “Doesn’t have to be so bad.”
What choice do I have?
Until you can get help, tell someone—anyone—you’re stuck, completely at his mercy. You hadn’t been able to understand his breach of trust, not until he’d explained himself, and everything had clicked into place with horrible clarity. His overt overprotectiveness, the way he’d begun methodically inserting himself into your life. Even now, he traces patterns on the exposed skin of your arm, the cool metal leaving goosebumps in its wake.
“Feel like you’re too far away, doll,” he drawls, and reluctantly you look up at him. He pats the thickest part of his thigh with a heavy hand. “Want you right here, close to me.” Your stomach lurches at his request. Sitting next to him is the most you can manage, you don’t want anything else. The movie drones on in the background as you stare at one another, and you know you don’t have long before Bucky’s patience runs out.
“I-I—” You can’t swallow the lump in your throat so you try to speak around it. “Bucky, I don’t—”
“You’re nervous. I get that,” he cuts you off, running his hands up and down your sides in smooth gentle movements, like he’s trying to calm a panicked animal. You suppose you are—you’re terrified, your heart pounding as Bucky’s fingers sink into the meat of your hips. You let out a shrill squeak as he lifts you, settling you across his thigh.
“But you don’t have to be, not with me.” Hot tears, indignant tears, well in your eyes, and you try not to let them fall. Bucky’s breath is hot against the back of your neck. “I’m going to take good care of you.” You know his promise is supposed to inspire confidence, but the only thing you feel is the slow creep of dread, sinking into everything.
This is really happening.
You want to wake up from this, but there isno waking from it—Bucky’s hands are warm as they massage you through the thin fabric of your leggings, his pleased sighs ringing in your ear as he familiarizes himself with your body. There’s no relaxing either, your body taut as a tightrope perched on his knee. To any onlooker, you know this looks like a date-night—a movie, snacks, two people cuddled close—but the pounding of your heart, the tremor in your hands, you can’t hide those. Someone onscreen laughs, and Bucky chuckles too, the sound vibrating against your back.
“You feel tense, sweetheart,” He murmurs, and you wince as he drags his lips down the exposed skin at your shoulder until he meets cloth. “I can help.” His hungry hands come to rest on your thighs, his thumbs massaging circles into the taut muscle. You try to snap your thighs shut, wiggle off of his lap, but Bucky is stronger than you are—by far. It doesn’t even seem like it taxes him in the least to keep you seated as he locks an arm around your belly, anchoring you to him.
“Shh, shh,” he smooths his other hand over your hair. “You’ll feel so much better, doll, I know it.” Fresh horror blooms in you as he strokes along your inner thigh with light fingers, mumbling his appreciation for you in a low, reverent voice.
“So soft…” You can feel the thick length of his cock pressing up between the cheeks of your ass, and you choke on your horrified gasp. “See how hard you got me, sweetheart? S’all for you.” Your mouth opens, and you inhale a breath to scream—
Bucky’s metal hand closes around your throat, squeezing just hard enough to limit your air.
“Oh, baby. I wouldn’t.” His other hand doesn’t stop moving, stroking the skin of your belly under your t-shirt. “You think I won’t fuck you if your neighbors come watch?” The blood curdles in your veins at his frankness. “I don’t mind if the whole world watches you cum on my face, sweetheart—and believe me, it’s a pretty sight. In fact, I think that might make this a whole lot easier, don’t you? If everyone knows, then—”
“Please,” you croak, tugging ineffectually at his arm. He releases his hold on your throat, and you gasp and cough as the air floods back into your lungs. You don’t want Patrick to know, to see. Without Pat, you’d be alone, adrift in the world. He’d made you feel like you could do more than just be your father’s replacement for your mother, to take care of him until he was six feet in the ground. Like you owed it to her memory to be something—like you owed it to yourself.
Bucky could have everything else—but he can’t have that.
He kisses the skin at the back of your throat, his beard rasping against your skin.
“Let’s not make this difficult, doll. Either way you play this, I get what I’m owed.”
“No one’s owed anything,” you croak, wriggling in his lap. Bucky stills you with a smart tap to your thigh. “That’s not how the world works.”
“Oh?” He says, as if he’s amused by your reasoning, amused enough to let your sass slide. “I’ll remember that when folks come to collect. Funny,” he hums as his fingers dip beneath the waistband of your leggings, playing at the skin beneath them before he tugs them harshly down. “how no one’s owed, but someone always come to collect.” There’s a low laugh as he grazes the skin of your vulva.
“No panties, doll? And I thought you weren’t expecting me.” He parts your lips with two fingers, and you’re as embarrassed as he is pleased when he finds your folds damp. You huff through your clenched teeth as Bucky slowly circles your clit with one finger while he grinds his cock against you. You’re overwhelmed with him—the woodsy scent of his cologne in your nostrils, his hands on you, in you. It’s enough to make your head spin.
Which it does, unwitting pleasure winding up your spine as you stare dizzily at the ceiling. You try everything; shutting your eyes to try and keep him out, picturing Patrick, trying to remember the vows you were still drafting up for the wedding—but none of it works. Bucky’s face swims in the darkness behind your closed eyes as his fingers dance over your bud, and his breath in your ear wipes clean the memory of your future promises.
The noise as his fingers slide in and out of you, aided by your body’s own slick is deafening. You hate your own muted moans as Bucky’s teeth drag along your shoulder blade, uncaring of whether he leaves a mark or not. The sound of his zipper lowering makes you choke back a sob, and you gasp softly at the feel of his bare cock against your ass.
“I saw, you know,” he grunts as he ruts against you. “Fucking pathetic, couldn’t even let you get off first.” Bucky lets out a low, guttural laugh when your pussy clenches around him, fresh wetness coating his fingers. “Mmm, feels good, doesn’t it, doll?” You clench around him. “Real man would have taken care of you—that’s why I had to step in and do it.” Bucky doesn’t let up, and you whine and writhe against him.
Your orgasm hits you like a train and you arch against his knee, your cunt throbbing as your release coats his fingers thick and sticky. You can feel Bucky moving against you, your pleasure—your shame—leaking back to coat his cock. Limp and wrung out from the force of it, you shudder. Maybe it’s cruel irony that Pat had never made you feel quite like this, that this man who you you undeniably hate can play your body like a fine instrument.
His hands rise to cup your breasts, flicking at your nipples through your bralette. “If I didn’t want to be in your pussy so bad, I’d give this sweet ass of yours a try,” Bucky says as his the head of his cock slides lewdly against your puckered entrance. You push ineffectively at his metal hand as he lifts your hips, positioning his cock underneath your twitching cunt.
“Bucky, Bucky no—”
“Stopwhining, doll,” his words end in a sigh as his cock begins to press up into you, pushing against the tightness of your entrance until it pops inside. He groans, huffing out an appreciative breath. “You’re like velvet inside, you know that?” He’s so thick, it’s like there’s not enough room inside of you for all of him, but he pushes in anyway.
You squeak as he fills you, his jeans rubbing uncomfortably against your bare thighs. Bucky kneads your hip with one hand and rocks against you slow, but even his short thrusts steal the air from your lungs. Even the sting of his cock stretching you open winds with the pleasure eating away at every conscious thought that manages to break through the static in your brain.
“God, you’re fuckin’ perfect, sweetheart,” he underscores the complement with another muffled curse. “Could stay in you all goddamned day.” He doesn’t fuck you like Pat does, with quiet efficiency, mindful of how long he’s taking—Bucky fucks you like it’s all he wants to do. His strokes are slow, leisurely, and you sob at the slow drag of him against your walls.
Bucky bounces you on his lap, and your breath gurgles in your throat. “F-full…” You don’t even realize you’ve spoken until Bucky’s black-honey laugh meets your ear.
“Feels good, doesn’t it, doll?” He kneads your breasts with one greedy hand while the other tugs your legs apart, splaying you open lewdly across his thighs. Bucky sinks in with a loud squelch that makes you keen. Distantly, you’re aware of the slapping of flesh, the squeal of the springs in you and Pat’s ancient couch as Bucky lays into you with languid heavy thrusts.
“Nice, fat cock digging you out—tell me baby, that miserable excuse for a man ever make you feel this good?” When you don’t answer immediately, Bucky’s hips snap into yours hard, the head of his cock punching against your cervix. You wail, babbling.
“N-no, no Bucky!” You wish that the guilt that flares up in you at your forced honesty is enough to quell the tide of pleasure cresting over you. You hate him—but your body still responds. “Oh, oh God—”
Pleasure sears the synapses in your brain, fireworks exploding behind your unseeing eyes as you gape up at your ceiling. Bucky fucks you through it, abandoning his slow, deep pace for quick, sharp thrusts.
“Fuck, m’gonna fill you up, doll, want you leakin’ with me for days—”He growls low in his throat, strained breaths puffing against your ear as sticky warmth floods you, his cock jerking against your walls. The both of you sit there, panting as you try to piece everything back together.
Bucky strokes the side of your face, before pressing a kiss into your hair.
“See, doll?” He says with a dry laugh. “Not so bad.”
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Summary: Caught in an anti-hero demonstration, you become an unwilling participant in a political game of tug of war. Tony Stark wants you to be the new poster child for his pro-Avengers rhetoric, Nick Fury wants you to fade into the background, and Bucky Barnes… wants something else from you entirely.
Warnings: Near Death Experience, Noncon, Stalking, Manipulation, Kidnapping, Smut, Breeding, Infidelity, Dark!AU, Grey/Dark Avengers AU,
A/N: i can only hope y’all are as excited to read this next chapter as i am to share it with you. i’m so happy to be back in the Rattler-verse!! bottom divider by @firefly-graphics.
The work below is my own, and is unbeta’d and unedited. I do not consent for it to be translated and or posted elsewhere by anyone but myself. Minors, DNI!
The makeup artist spritzes you with something, telling you to close your eyes just before the droplets make contact with your skin. You’ve never been much for makeup, and so when Tony asked if you’d like someone to “get you camera ready”, you’d said yes without a second thought. Now though, as she spun you in the chair and positioned you like a doll, you were beginning to regret it.
“Just stay still, yes?” She says sternly in her thick accent. “Spray need time to set.” She seems rather busy, flitting around the little room with the nervous energy of a hummingbird. “No touch face,” she warns, waggling a finger at you. “I be back.”
You count to ten before opening your eyes nervously, expecting to see Svetlana waiting with her arsenal of make-up brushes, but instead, you see Bucky. Leaned against the doorframe with his arms crossed, his eyes cloudy and unreadable.
“Oh,” you can’t help the sharp intake of breath as you raise your hand to your chest in surprise. “S-Sorry. I was expecting…” You trail off. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be.” He says. “I’m just first on guard duty.” The smile he gives you is unsure, like he doesn’t know whether it’s okay to make a joke or not. He reaches out a hand for you to shake, and you take it, noting the warmth and whir of machinery under your touch.
“Ah.” You tap your fingers against the arms of the chair you’re in, unsure of what to say. You don’t know if you should bring up that you remember him, remember what he did—he didn’t seem too comfortable with it in the hospital room, and you’re loathe to invite the dislike of one of the people tasked with your protection.
“I um, I just, God, sorry this is awkward. I wanted to say thank you. Um. For saving me. I’m going to say it, you know, out there, but I thought it might be more meaningful if you, um. Heard it from me personally first.”
It isn’t quite surprise that graces Bucky’s ; features, his eyebrows rising up his forehead. More like incredulity, like he hasn’t really ever been thankedbefore.
“You’re welcome.” He says after a moment, like he’s trying to figure out just how to respond. “I know Tony can be pushy.” He rolls his eyes, and it makes you laugh. “But thank you. For what you’re doing.”
You’re still not sure about it, and the thought of standing in front of the press is starting to make your hands clammy. A nervous laugh bubbles from your lips.
“I wouldn’t thank me yet. I’m not the best public speaker.” You fix Bucky with a wry smile. “There’s still time to find someone better, I think.”
“You’ll do fine, doll. Just… pretend they’re not there. Would it help if I stood in the audience?” He asks, a small smile on his full lips. “Make it like you’re talkin’ to me. Not them.” His suggestion brings a shy heat to your cheeks—that’s the kind of thing Pat would have suggested, if he’d been able to get the time off from the nursing home to make it, anyway.
“Yeah, actually. You’d do that? I thought you were just supposed to like, keep people from stabbing me, sort of thing,” You joked, and he laughed.
“I can do that from the audience, doll. Your guy’s got nothing to worry about.” He jerks his head towards the modest oval cut diamond on your left ring finger. “Already saved you once, figure I’ve got a pretty good track record.”
You laugh, and it surprises you because it’s actually real. You’d been worried they would all be like Tony, plastic and terrible and fake,but Bucky seemed… nice, despite his kind of checkeredpast. You’re about to say something else when Svetlana clears her throat behind him. Her foot taps impatiently against the expensive tile as she glares at him.
“Move, metal man. I finish her now.”
Bucky holds his hands up placatingly. “I’m goin’, I’m goin’. I’ll be right outside if you need me to,” he pantomimes a chokehold, and you stifle a giggle. He seems… relieved, like he’d been on guard—and you had to admit you had been too.
Maybe this won’t be so bad.
It wouldn’t be so terrible to come out of this with a friend—maybe one that would enjoy Patrick’s four hour Call of Duty sessions more than you did.
When Svetlana finishes your makeup, you’re sandwiched between her and Bucky all the way backstage. You swallow nervously at the sight of Tony Stark, locked in a particularly heated conversation with Nick Fury—who didn’t look happy.
“—options? Creating your own propaganda machine just the next logical step?”
“It’s not propaganda if it’s true. You know we can’t afford another Germany, not now—”
“Buck! And the guest of honor, I presume.” Steve Rogers steps directly into your field of vision, a hand outstretched for you to shake. “Nice to see you again.” You finagle your crutches until you can balance long enough to shake it firmly. His wife peeks out from behind him, and Steve wraps an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. “No need to be shy, sweetheart.”
You watch her give a strained smile. “Nice to meet you.” She’s heavily pregnant—likely about to pop any day now. You recall the news headlines from just months prior, the news footage of Captain America pulling his beloved wife from the firey wreckage of the accident.
I wouldn’t want to be here after that, either.
Steve presses an affectionate kiss into her hair. “I’m going to go find a place for this one to sit down. Shouldn’t be on her feet too much.”
“No, I shouldn’t,” she echoes softly, before giving you a genuine smile. “Good luck out there.” Her eyes flick to Steve and then back to you. “You’re in the snake pit, now.” You can’t ask her what she meant before Steve places a firm hand on her shoulder.
He steers her away, and you glance at Bucky. There’s a strange sort of… longingin his gaze as he watches them go, and you wonder if he has anyone to go home to. You only have a few seconds to ruminate on it, though, before Tony Stark’s wide grin is all you can see.
“Thank you for coming, thank you.” He looks genuinelypleased, at least. “I trust Sunshine here’s given you the rundown?” Tony jerks his thumb at Bucky, who simply glowers in his direction.
“Yeah. I go up there and utterly humiliate myself in front of the city and probably the whole world,” you mutter, wiping clammy palms against the dark blue fabric of your dress.
“You’ll do fine, kid. Can’t be harder than getting shot, right?” He claps you on the shoulder, and you swallow the urge to shove his hand away. You’re queasy enough as it is without the additional conflict.
Tony takes the stage before you do, and his solemn expression is reflected on the many screens all around the room. He’s used to press conferences, you can tell—he knows exactly where to look. It’s hard for you to concentrate on his introduction as you shift in your chair, waiting anxiously for him to pass the baton to you.
You wish Pat was here—he would know what to say, what to do to make these nerves nothing more than an unpleasant tingle in your chest. No, Pat is at work, again,and it’s yourfault. You clench your fists against your thigh, and try to take deep breaths. Slow, in through your nose and out through your mouth.
“You okay?” Even though his hand is made of metal, Bucky rests it lightly on your shoulder. “You need water, or something?” He looks up toward the stage, where you can see Tony’s back as he gesticulates, the same serious expression still painted onto his features. “Hate these things.”
“You do?”
“Yeah. I’m… well, you know.” He rubs the back of his neck. “Winter Soldier, and all.”
You nod your understanding. “No, I, um. I get it.” Bucky’s smile is small, but grateful.
“Say the word, and I’m your man in the crowd, doll.” He reminds you, just as Tony turns and gestures to you.
“It’s time,” he mouths the words at you, just in case his clear signals weren’t enough.
“Yes, please. Do that.” You huff out a breath as you situate your crutches under your arms and hobble over to the short set of steps. There’s a podium, and a little red stool beside it, which you gratefully sit on. There are so many people, cameras flashing—your heart thuds in your chest faster than an oncoming train.
And then you spot him. Close to the front, in the middle, his arms folded but there, and you breathe a sigh of relief. Thanks Bucky.
You’d missed Tony’s introduction entirely, but you don’t really need it—hands immediately begin popping up as you settle yourself on your seat, and hesitantly, you call on one of the first reporters you see.
“Yes?”
She stands a little taller, raising her microphone above the crowd. “In your own words, what happened on April 17th?”
“I, I, um—” You glanced down at Bucky and tried to remind yourself you were just talking to him. A casual conversation between friends. “I’m an art history student. Masters. So I am—I was,”you correct yourself, “at the Museum a lot. I think I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, because I was in the exhibit room Adrian Kettleton locked himself in when he came to make his demonstration.
I don’t know what happened before he started shooting. But when he did… everyone was on the ground. There was a lady there w-with kids,” your throat goes tight, and blindly, you grasp for the microphone. “S-sorry, I, um, I need a minute.” You turn away from the reporters, cover your face with your hands, and tryto breathe deep. What would Pat say?
“It’s okay, babe, take all the time you need.”
You wait until your heart is steady again before you lower your hands
“Kettleton opened fire, and he said this would all be over soon. That the cops would show up and that—” You choked back a sob—“only a few people would have to die.” You hadn’t even really talked about this with Pat, leaving it for the insurance-provided therapist to untangle. He shot two people before me while the police tried to talk him down, and…” Bucky nods encouragingly at you from the audience.
“Then the Avengers showed up. I… I had already been shot, but… I would be dead if they weren’t there.”
You’re not sure if you did what you were supposed to do, Bucky’s face is passive, and you can’t really look behind you to gauge Tony’s reaction. A man in the front raises his hand, and you point at him.
“So what you’re saying is, the police were ineffectual?”
You frown. “N-no, I didn’t say that, I said—”
“You said that the Avengers showed up. You’d already been shot, isn’t that right?”
You press your lips together into a frown. “Yes. Yes that’s right. But I’m notsaying the police were ineffectual. I’m saying that the Avengers saved my life.”
“I see.” You wonder how far he’ll run with that, how far they’ll allrun with it, but several more hands jump into the air, and your heart beats faster at the sight of them.
“Do you believe the shooting in Texas and the one in Shanghai are related?”
“Did you know Adrian Kettleton prior to the shooting? You both attended NYU, only a few years apart.”
“Your father shares some anti-hero sentiment, how does he feel about this?”
You’re dizzy as Tony helps you from the stage, camera flashes still seared into your retinas.
“You did good, kid. Real good.”
—
“It’s not that bad.” Patrick’s voice is wheedling through the bathroom door. You’d gotten home a few hours ago, and had been grateful to spend your evening binging the shows you’d missed with Patrick on his night off—
Until your phone began blowing up with clips of you,at the press junket. Different news stations had grabbed different parts, zeroing in on everything. Your speech, your movements, your hair, your clothes—
Rita: you seeing this?
Your little sister had attached a screenshot of a twitter thread, and you huff out a frustrated breath as you glare at it.
“It’s not you they’re publicly dissecting,” you moan. It’s not justyour friends and sister sending you things, it’s your socials—your twitter mentions are numbering in the tens of thousands, and your facebook friend requests look about the same. Your private instagram account has seven thousand follow requests, and you scroll through them all with your heart in your throat.
There are people calling you a liar, a con artist, claiming the Avengers were in on it, that they’d paid you to take a bullet. There were people claiming you’d never even been shot at all, which in and of itself was laughable. There were more, kinder folks, sending you well wishes, along with bots attempting to hawk you miracle remedies and diet teas.
A disaster.
“You know there’s someone claiming to be my third grade teacher?” You lament. “Which, if that really isMiss Hayes, makes me feel like shit because she called me a petulant little drama-queen.” Patrick sighs, and you can feel the weight of it through the door.
“One, I doubt that’s her because she would be like, ancient now, and probably not on twitter at all. And two—” The sound of the intercom buzzing cuts him off, ringing loudly through the apartment. You can practically hear the frown in Pat’s voice. “Who the hell…? I’ll be right back.” He clamors away from the door, and you get to your feet, brushing a few cat hairs from your leggings.
“Oh. I just, I guess we didn’t know you were coming. Starting tonight? Okay. Hold on, I’ll buzz you up.”
You poke your head out of the bathroom door in time to see Patrick unlocking the front door at the far end of the long hallway.
“You didn’t tell me you were supposed to have bodyguards,” he shout-whispers at you. “Your first shift is here. I think it’s all the press stuff.” You pad down the hallway to peek around Patrick, listening to the sound of heavy footfalls coming up the narrow stairs to your apartment.
Bucky’s chestnut hair comes into view first, and then his dark, steel blue eyes light on yours and he smiles.
“Hey, there, dollface.” Your face warms as Patrick’s grip tightens almost imperceptibly on your upper arm. “Sir.” He nods to your fiancé in greeting, and Pat relaxes a little.
“I thought I only needed someone, you know. During the speaking engagements,” you say, stepping aside to allow Bucky into the apartment. Patrick locks the door behind him, his face a bad mask of good-will. He isn’t happy about Bucky being here, but the both of you know he’d deposited Tony’s check yesterday—there was little he could do about it now other than ride it out.
“Some of those folks online are saying some pretty nasty things. Thought it might be a good idea for one of us to be close by in case anything happened.” He doesn’t step further inside than the foyer, like he’s trying to make it clear he knows he doesn’t belong. “I can stay out in the hall if it’s a bother.”
“No, of course not.” You know Patrick would have told him that was fine—male pride—but it isn’t, not for you. “You came to protect me, the least we can offer is the couch.”
You hobble around after Patrick, helping set up the couch for your unexpected guest. Bucky doesn’t intrude, toeing off his boots in the entry way and hanging his jacket on the hook while he waits.
“Thank you. I’ll just knock out here.” He lays down on the couch, folding his arms behind his head. You and Patrick retreat awkwardly into the bedroom, and he turns on a random show on Netflix to cover the sound of his whispered frustration.
“It’s just, you’d think they’d tell us something like that could be a possibility.” He runs a hand through his curly hair. “It’s just… It’s a little scary, I guess.”
“Hey, you’re the one who wanted me to go sign up for this,” you shoot back. Patrick relents, throwing his arms up and heaving an irritated sigh.
“I hate when you’re right.”
“You just hate that I think things all the way through,” you mutter, punching his arm. “Now help me into bed.” You giggle as he sweeps you up, depositing you onto the bed. You haven’t slept with Patrick since you’d been home from the hospital, and he hadn’t pushed, but tonight when he kisses you, there’s intentbehind it that you can feel. You sigh against his mouth, bringing your hand up to cup the side of his face.
There’s a dull thump and the sound of footfall— was the door always open a crack?— but living in a building this old means your life has a soundtrack of unexplainable noises, and so you dismiss it.
Pat is careful, his thrusts slow and shallow when he slides in, and you sink your teeth into your lip to hide your soft moan at his entry. He feels good, familiar inside of you, and he brings his thumb down to rub at your clit when he cums just before you can. You whine into your closed fist, your thighs trembling as your walls contract around his still hard cock. Pat makes a pleased noise low in his throat before he slides out of you, kissing the tip of your nose.
It feels like a walk of shame as you hobble to the bathroom to clean yourself up, but Bucky’s deep, steady breaths assure you of his slumber when you sneak back to bed. That’s ridiculous. I’m an engaged woman and this is my house.
You lay down next to Patrick, falling quickly into dreamless sleep.
Hazily, some hours later, you’re aware of the sound of his pager going off, and he shifts with a groan. You’re used to it, him being called in early for a shift, though you hate the loss of him. Your bed is warm and comfortable, even without Pat in it, and you fade softly in and out, time interrupted by the brief stretches of black behind your eyelids. Pat getting up—and then dressed—and then kissing you goodbye, his cologne tickling the insides of your nostrils.
“Bye babe,” he whispers, brushing his lips over the apple of your cheek. “Be back later.”
“Mmm,” is all you manage to mumble in response. Something clicks— the front door, maybe? You aren’t sure —and in the silence, you slip back into slumber. You’re dreaming of flying, and then— hands, rough, warm hands, no, one is cold, cold on your skin— you mumble sleepily.
“Pat?”
“Mmm,” he grunts from between your legs, his nose pushing up against the seam of your panties. He pushes up the hem of your t-shirt, and you feel the cool metal of his orderlies’s tags against your thigh before he moves them away, his lips dragging over the spot the’d just vacated. You’re so tired—the painkillers keep you woozy until at least mid-afternoon—your eyes are barely cooperating as Patrick attaches his lips to your clit through the thin cotton of your panties. His beard rasps against your thighs, burning against your skin deliciously.
You gasp, thighs tightening around his head. Two fingers edge beneath your panties, tugging them aside so that he can slide his tongue through your folds with an appreciative sigh. You drag a hand through his hair under the blanket, and Patrick chuckles huskily against your core.
“Feel good, sweetheart?”
His voice is off, somehow, too husky, too low, but the pressure of his fingers at your entrance pushes the thought from your head. The sweet burning stretch of them makes you keen, your hips bucking up toward his face. He doesn’t let up, and you squeal loudly as his teeth scrape against your sensitive clit, and he curls his fingers inside you.
“Go on and cum, sweetheart. S’alright.”
Youdo,your toes curling as tears leak out of the corners of your closed eyes. You whine as he wiggles his fingers inside your spasming cunt, drawing them out with an embarrassingly slick noise. There’s another sound, like he’s licking them clean, and he chuckles again.
“Sweet.”
—
You sit up in bed with a start, wincing at the pounding in your skull. The pain meds always make you feel hung over when you wake up, and today is no exception. A glance at the digital clock on the table tells you it’s after midday, and Pat’s side of the bed is long cold.
I must have slept through him leaving, again.
You slide out of bed, and your cheeks heat at the wetness between your thighs. You’d known Patrick missedsex, but you hadn’t thought he’d missed it that much. You couldn’t keep the little smile off of your face as you limped to the kitchen, and found Bucky seated at the table, a newspaper in hand.
“G’morning, sleepy head. Your honey left you some breakfast on the stove.” He jerked his head toward the plate on the bottom right burner. You lifted a corner of the paper towel, and saw he’d left you scrambled eggs, with a few slices of cheese on top. “He always leave so early?”
You popped the plate into the microwave, nodding.
“Yeah. They’re really short at the nursing home, so it happens a couple times a week. But if he left that early, he should be back—” Patrick’s key clicks in the door, and you laugh. “Right about now.”
You hear him kicking off his shoes in the entryway, before he pokes his head into the kitchen. “Oh, look, you’re up.”
“Blame the pills,” you grumble, grinning as he presses a kiss to your cheek. You run the backs of your knuckles over the smooth curve of his cheek, and you furrow your brow. “When did you shave?”
“This morning, before I left.” He cocks his head as you swallow thickly. “Why?”
Your eyes slide to Bucky, casually skimming the paper as he lifts a mug of coffee to his lips.
I am no longer maintaining taglists, my friends! Please follow @box-of-bones-library and turn on notifications to get updates about new fics, chapters, and drabbles! thank you!
Warnings:My blog is 18+ and though there’s no smut in this piece, minors DNI. Domestic abuse, break up, humiliation, mutual pining, friends in love, drink driving, car accident, coma, chasing justice/vigilante attitudes, fairy tales, Disney, fluff, lots of angst, anger, guilt, happy ever afters
Prompt: Fairy tale
A/N: So this is my contribution to the 500 follower writing challenge hosted by @tom-whore-dleston It’s a new one for me because I’ve had to use a fairy tale for this one. So I’ve tried to use the fairy tale to feed into a modern situation and at the same time reflect that the same fairy tale has importance to the reader. Sleeping Beauty is an important one to me as the first feature length Disney cartoon I watched, and I was in awe of it.
This hasn’t been beta read and all of my mistakes are my own. Please feel free to like, comment and/or reblog as I look forward to feedback and interacting with people who choose to read my work. I appreciate you all. I hope you enjoy it.
She was Steve’s. The point being ‘was’. Where was he now as she lay in the hospital bed in a coma? She was Steve’s but he never really cared for her. He picked her as the perfect smoke screen and made everyone believe he was in love. She was Steve’s, it was the excuse that always stopped Bucky from admitting his true feelings for her. She was Steve’s, the line she repeated in her head like a mantra even though she didn’t love him, she loved someone else and was terrified of Steve. She was Steve’s until he decided it was right for him and Peggy to go public by breaking up with Y/N via a Snapchat post, not even a one-to-one message but a post of him and Peggy while saying ‘Y/N, I got myself a real woman’ and it was posted for all to see. She was Steve’s no longer and was fighting for her life after a drunk truck driver careered into her car.
Bucky hadn’t left her side, the symphony of beeps from various machines stopped the silence creeping in and forming negative thoughts and nightmares of worst possible outcomes in his mind. She couldn’t die, he couldn’t lose her. She was his safe haven in a world that had become darker than he’d ever anticipated. Nat and Sam walked into the room and sat with Bucky. Nat handed him a cup of coffee from the nearby coffee shop instead of getting the mud in a cup from the hospital vending machine. He accepted it gratefully with a swift nod and looked back over to Y/N. She looked like she was peacefully sleeping. Blissfully unaware of the situation she was in, you could be forgiven for thinking she was in a complete state of calm. Sam placed a comforting hand on Bucky’s shoulder.
“Buck, you’ve been here since the accident happened three days ago. You need to go back to the compound, get some sleep” he advised. Shrugging him off with a light scoff, he took Y/N’s hand in his, rubbing her fingers softly with his thumb.
“If she wakes up, I need to be here for her” he insisted.
“What good to her are you if you are too tired to function?” Sam spoke quietly.
“Sam’s right Bucky, you need to sleep. We’ll be here if she wakes up. Sam will call you straight away as well” Nat offered seeing the pain in Bucky’s eyes. The internal fight to stop tears flowing because she looked helpless and fragile.
“But I should be here” Bucky tried to push.
“I know she’s your best friend, but she’d understand that-”
“You don’t get it Sam, she’s not just my best friend, I love her Sam. I’m in love with her!” he kept his voice low, but it was strained as though he was arguing. Sam’s eyes panned. He was about to speak when Nat walked over to Bucky.
“Buck, listen to me, what would Y/N tell you to do?” she asked firmly.
“To… to go home and sleep,” he sounded defeated and shook his head, “fine, I’ll go” he conceded, “but you must call me instantly if she wakes up” he instructed. Nat agreed and sent him out to the waiting car to be taken home.
Nat sunk down on the chair in the corner of the hospital room. Sam was still processing Bucky’s words. How had he missed it?
“You know it was obvious right” Nat said laughing at Sam’s inability to realise Bucky’s feelings towards Y/N were deeper than he’d anticipated. “She’s in love with him too, but she thinks he doesn’t see her that way”
“She was with Steve though” Sam countered looking even more confused.
“No, he coerced her into a relationship where he was bullying and abusing her. The trouble is no one wanted to say or do anything to stop it except Bucky. Even I was at fault there. She needed us and we let her down. I mean don’t you remember the quiz night Tony held with us where we were in teams of two and had to answer questions about each other to see who really was a perfect match” she chuckled at the memory. Sam’s smile spread across his face as he recalled that night…
Tony sat back looking all smug as yet another duo failed to get more than 10 out 15 in the ‘How Well Do You Know Your Partner?’ game. In all fairness he was teamed with Pepper, but the others were teamed with friends. Bruce and Thor did pretty well achieving a solid 10, Wanda and Vision got 11 and Nat scored 11 with Clint. Sam was teamed with Rhodey and scored a 7. Originally Y/N wasn’t going to play. Steve was off on yet another ‘solo’ mission (a jaunt to Peggy’s) but everyone convinced her to take part and she agreed to work with Bucky, her best friend. She leaned into him, putting her face on his shoulder as she laughed uncontrollably at Peter scoring 5 with T’Challa. It was almost as bad as the 2 Y/N scored with Steve last time they played. Tony rubbed his hands together all excited as he sat forward.
“Y/N do you and Tin Man actually think you’ll beat mine and Pepper’s score of 13?” he was so confident. Y/N and Bucky looked at each other with a smile.
“We’ll give it a shot Tony. Friday has our answers and is ready to reveal them with each question asked”
“Let’s make it interesting” Tony beamed. Bucky looked at him with confusion.
“What do you have in mind?” Bucky quizzed.
“If you score higher than me and Pepper you will win two thousand dollars. If we have higher than you, then you and Y/N will be responsible for dinner for everyone for a whole week” he offered.
“You’re on” Y/N grinned.
Question after question was fired, each one was a correct answer. Question 10 came and went, then 11 and 12 all correct. Nat was enjoying her role as quizmaster for the couple and witnessing the faces on others as the responses kept coming back with a ‘ding’ from Friday.
“Question 13 – if going on a date, what physical preparation is made to show they expect sex?” Nat’s words were met with ‘ooohs’ and ‘aaahhhs’ knowing this was quite an intimate ask. Silence fell upon everyone as they looked on at Y/N and Bucky. They were deep in thought and glanced at each other. Bucky’s lips curled into a cocksure smile as Tony waved them off with a scoffing laugh thinking there was no way they’d equalise.
“When Bucky goes on a date and is hoping to have sex he puts on extra cologne, brightens his teeth and ensures he has brand new underwear that doesn’t look like it’s got that washed and owned for a while look” she revealed.
“Friday?” Nat called for clarification. Friday dinged again and showed Bucky’s written response that was almost word for word. Bucky now needed to respond with the right answer to get the 13th point.
“Y/N will wear black underwear” he answered simply, watching her blush. As Friday dinged yet again, Tony’s eyes widened in shock as some of the other Avengers were equally as surprised. This wasn’t necessarily something all best friends knew.
“Question 14 – what would you want your wedding song to be?” Nat questioned.
“Bucky would pick Moonlight Serenade by Glenn Miller” Y/N didn’t even waste time and her reaction was met with Bucky letting out a laugh as he pulled Y/N to him and placed a kiss on her forehead. Friday confirmed the answer and Bucky divulged Y/N’s being From This Moment by Shania Twain. Y/N’s grin was so bright knowing he’d got the answer. They got to the last question and were currently 14 for 14. Steve stormed in interrupting them and demanding Y/N go with him. He was shouting at her saying she was an embarrassment. Dragging her away from everyone, people heard Y/N begging Steve to stop hurting her wrist. Her bruises the next day were proof that he stopped hurting her wrist and hit her elsewhere leaving her with a black eye and bruised ribs. She didn’t spend time with the rest of the Avengers for the next few days. Bucky had caught a glimpse of her and had a confrontation with Steve which ended up in more bruises for Y/N. Bucky’s heart was heavy with guilt and pain. He loved her more than anything and this was killing him. What he didn’t realise is that every tear she shed, every prayer she made was to let her out of her hell with Steve so that she could find some way of spending more time with Bucky and telling him of her feelings. With each passing day, new strike and inky bruise, she feared the day would never come…
Bucky tried to sleep, he tossed and turned in his bed. He knew that he’d promised to rest but he couldn’t get his mind off Y/N. Lying on his back, he rested his forearm over his eyes. The thin white bedsheet clung to him like a second skin as it sat over his legs and waist. He was angry at Steve. Angry at himself and angry at the drunk driver who only came away with a few scratches and a fractured finger while Y/N was in a coma, had suffered a ruptured spleen and a broken leg. He hated seeing her in pain, any kind of pain. She’d been through enough at the hands of Steve. He remembered seeing the bright smile on her face when Steve broke up with her. He was furious that Steve did it in a way to humiliate Y/N, but she just grinned at Bucky. He was trying to hide his fury at Steve. Y/N’s smile melted his heart but what disintegrated his tension were the words she whispered when he hugged her. She simply stated ‘I’m finally free’. How could he not be happy for her when she was relieved to be free from the violent clutches of Steve. It made him think of how she spent that night. Everyone was rallying around her in absolute concern.
Y/N sat on the sofa in the community lounge just flicking through a magazine as Wanda and Nat came in and sat either side of her. She looked from side to side at the women who were like Cheshire cats with the way they were grinning at her.
“You should come out with us tonight” Wanda suggested.
“Why?” Y/N asked slowly.
“After Steve’s actions, you need to get out there, show him what he’s lost out on” Wanda was trying to ensure Y/N wasn’t going to crumble, worried that Steve may have had some emotional hold on her.
“Or just have a good old-fashioned night out with the girls” Nat chimed in trying to steer the conversation away from Steve. Y/N closed the magazine and put it on her lap as she sighed.
“Nat, Wand I love you both. I really do but I’m fine. All I want is a night in, just relaxing watching a movie or something in the knowledge that everything is my choice” she explained to them. Disappointment flashed on Wanda’s face while Nat accepted Y/N’s response and patted her hands supportively to let her know they were there if she needed them. As they left Y/N to it, Bucky entered the room and joined Y/N on the sofa, he put his arm around Y/N, and she put her head on his shoulder.
“So what’s the movie choice tonight sugar-plum?” he asked.
“You can pick it, or we can watch the game tonight. It’s the Ravens versus the Falcons and you know I’m a Ravens girl” she chuckled.
“Game it is, I’ll order the pizza” he informed her. It wasn’t long before Sam and Clint joined them and were cheering the Falcons. Bucky couldn’t help but taunt Sam as he had to pay Y/N fifty dollars when the Ravens won. The conversation among the four of them drifted to cartoons and Disney, with Clint declaring how sick he was of Frozen. Likewise, Sam was fed up with Toy Story as his youngest nephew seemed to love watching it over and over. They then started talking about their first Disney film. Bucky revealed it was Snow White and he took Rebecca to see it, he was fascinated by the animation while Rebecca was in love with the story of a hero saving the day. Sam divulged that his was the Fox and the Hound and that, as a kid, he was convinced that the Owl was voiced by his auntie. Clint expressed his love for Robin Hood and proceeded to sing the theme tune that Y/N and Sam joined in with, reminiscing over the classic. Y/N then sat back and told of her first experience watching a Disney cartoon. It was Sleeping Beauty. It remained a favourite of hers because she felt that Aurora and Prince Philip had been destined to be together. He saw her when she was a baby, then met her in the woods where they sang and danced together. It was a love at first sight kind of thing and then he risked his life to rescue her. Bucky intently listened observing every little gesture she made. He felt butterflies at seeing her so free, so happy and so involved in a group chat. The dark cloud that once hung over her had been lifted and this was the true Y/N shining in front of him. He knew in that moment he would have to tell her how he felt. He didn’t just love her as a friend, he had fallen helplessly in love with her. But as fate would have it, the day he was planning to tell her was the day he received the news of her car accident…
Nat and Sam had sat by Y/N’s bed, nothing had changed. The machines beeping were like harpies screeching as they fought to take the life of their victim. Sam hated sitting there and knowing nothing could be done. He checked his phone and looked over to Nat.
“The driver has been released on bail. He is claiming that he was drinking to numb the pain of betrayal and heartache and that Y/N was driving erratically as he hit her. Andy has sent me the details of the guy” Sam spat with disgust. Nat almost twitched at the news.
“When Bucky gets here, I have something to take care of that you might want in on” she informed him.
“Does it involve dealing with this asshole?” Sam raised his phone indicating the drunk driver.
“Time for you to learn the art of creative termination Sam. Sometimes it needs to be done” her icy tone was enough to scare most people. Coupled with the look of hate in her eyes, Sam knew there was no talking her out of it. She loved Y/N like a sister and seeing Y/N in the state she was in was killing Nat.
Bucky arrived at the hospital again, he looked refreshed but felt disheartened by the lack of news regarding Y/N’s progress. He watched Nat and Sam leave and pulled the chair right up to the bed. He sat down and clutched her hand in his and began to tell her the story of Sleeping Beauty in hope that she might wake up. The doctor had told him that talking to Y/N would help because studies showed coma patients could hear people talking to them. He felt his heart lurch as there was no real response. He knew what he had to try. He had thought about it non-stop on the way to the hospital. He got up and sat next to Y/N on the bed. Holding her hand in his, he took a deep breath as he gazed down at her. Even in her fragile state, she was still the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.
“Y/N, I don’t know if you can hear this. I… I… I hope you can,” he stuttered. “The day you were brought in here I… I was planning to tell you something,” he took a deep breath as he paused. “You see, ever since I’ve been back from Wakanda, you’re the only person who really goes all out to make time for me. You have spent time getting to know me and have become my best friend. I can’t and don’t want to ever imagine a life without you in it,” tears pricked the corners of his eyes at the mere thought of her no longer being around. “I remember watching you talk about Sleeping Beauty; you were so carefree I just wanted to kiss you and tell you how much I love you. And that’s the thing Y/N, I’m in love with you” the lump in his throat could be heard as he could no longer stop rogue tears from rolling down his cheeks; he sniffled and tried to wipe his tears away before continuing to speak. “The way you bite your lip when nervous, the way you softly smile and tilt your head when you’re listening to me talk after a nightmare, the way you hug me and reassure me when I’m having a panic attack, the way you kneel down and talk to children putting yourself at their level to make them feel at ease, your never-ending compassion and the time you make for all of us. It’s all those little things and more that I love. I’m sorry I didn’t do more to protect you from Steve. If you wake up and if you’ll have me, I’ll spend the rest of our lives together showing you that you are my princess and how much I love you. Just please, please wake up. I need you Y/N” his tears flowed as he bared his soul to the unconscious woman.
He leant down and placed his lips on hers in a tender chaste kiss. As he sat up, he observed her. Nothing. He knew he was being irrational hoping it would make a difference but the romantic in him had to try. That’s when he felt it – a slight twitch of her fingers. It happened again and her eyelids began to move, immediately Bucky pressed the button to call for a nurse. Rushing in, the nurse saw what was happening and called for a doctor.
He paced the floor waiting outside her room. He tried not to get his hopes up. He’d read of several cases where a patient would seemingly wake up but end up having a fit before their heart would give out. He wasn’t one for praying but he prayed that this wasn’t the case. He began to overthink it all. What if she could hear him but not being able to respond would result in a said fit and heart failure? What if he’d just killed the woman he truly loved? His mind was ruminating over the same thoughts over and over until the doctor came out.
“Sergeant Barnes” he enquired to get his attention. Bucky rushed to him instantaneously. The doctor could see all the questions and fear in Bucky’s eyes that he was struggling to manifest into words. “Y/N is awake and is asking for you. Her voice is rather weak, be patient with her. Give her some time as she is trying to make sense of things. The nurse is making her comfortable. Is there anyone I need to call?” he asked as Bucky’s face was awash with happiness.
“I… erm Wilson, Sam Wilson or Natasha Romanoff” he fumbled with his words anxious to see Y/N. The doctor nodded at him and let him into Y/N’s room.
She was propped up against the headrest. She looked weak but as she saw Bucky, her sunshine smile lit up the room. He sat next to her on the bed facing her. Their gaze was locked, and she nodded at his unspoken question as to whether she was ok.
“You’re… you’re awake” his voice almost a whisper.
“Because of you. I heard you Buck, I felt the kiss and I love you too, so much. Whenever Steve would drag me away, I just wanted to be with you. Safe in your arms. You are my everything Bucky” she croaked. He clutched her hands and kissed her knuckles before leaning towards her and kissing her with restrained passion so that he wouldn’t hurt her given her current health status.
“I love you Sleeping Beauty” he beamed, the love in his eyes just radiating.
“I love you too Prince Charming” she responded in kind as Bucky promised her that he’d make sure they have their own happily ever after.
a/n: This is one of my most requested fics. I never planned on writing a sequel to Savage Love but then I was listening to Empty Cups by Charlie Puth and this fic was born. Thank you to all the lovelies who read the first part and wished this into existence! I hope you like this continuation of the story I told. Divider by the indomitable @firefly-graphics.
tags: being close to an ex, implied smut, college drinking, cheating, use of petnames, rekindled relationship (kind of),swearing
Even as a college senior, parties aren’t your scene. But Sam said he would show up soon as he finished at the lab and all your other friends are going. There’s only so much you could study before you wanted to tear your own hair out so you decide one little party can’t hurt.
Except, it’s a huge rager, the fraternity boys sparing no expense and definitely no alcohol. Your friends certainly seem to be enjoying themselves, even Steve who’s moaning into Peggy’s mouth with her on his lap, on a couch not far from you.
summary: Bucky has been struggling with himself for a few months now but never reaches out for help. In order to confront him, you lock him in the lab but only to find out it was on lockdown for a reason and you’re now stuck to quarantine with him
Content: angst, Bucky has demons, sex! pollen, 18+ minors DNI, dubcon, rough!sex, Bucky is somehow soft but rough, breeding k!nk (due to the nature of the pollen)
a/n: I’m back baby!!! It’s been so long since I have written for Bucky, It feels great to get back to my roots
Bucky nervously chews at his bottom lip, eyes glancing over the entrance of the lab over and over again. Tethering the line of pure terror and adrenaline but for his undoubted loyalty, still contemplating going in.
Claiming that you desperately need his help and to meet you Stark tower for some kind of lab project. Which was fine, except he still couldn’t find the courage to face Pepper, even after all this time. Therapy was working, helping find himself in this world of endless possibilities but with a one hundred year history of murder, guilt still poisons his heart.
Even though he hasn’t directly wronged Tony Stark’s widow, he might as well have. What he did was something he didn’t expect forgiveness for. Just the sight of her or little Morgan is enough to send him into a long pit of despair. Often plagued with old flashbacks and visions that make him sick to his stomach, it takes weeks to come back from.
“Bucky?” He catches the attention of a familiar agent. A pretty woman, but Bucky never really took notice. Without realizing it, the brunette smiles at him, “She is waiting for you in there, she told me to keep an eye out.”
The brunette is small but carries herself with a certain fire. It makes the white wolf smile, an almost identical attitude of an old friend; Agent Carter. “I know.”
“Don’t you wish to see her? She is your partner after all.”
“Well yes but she has been asking for things I don’t want to talk about. She’s a pain in my ass.” Bucky cracks a smile, chuckling under his breath at the joke. “You go ahead, I’ll be in.”
“Oh, she gave orders that no one but you are to enter.”
⤿ summary [also requested by anon (thank you!)] : insecurities can be caused by many things but there is always one person to love each one of the things you hate…
warnings :18+, smut, reader is insecure about her vagina but i haven’t included a description of anything specific, fingering, pussy eating, tiny bit angst, fluff
*feedback is appreciated. please reblog so it can reach more people♡
You were gripping the microphone you were holding as you tried to calm yourself down. There wеre soo many people in front of you, and even after years of being an actress and going to Comic–Cons, you still couldn’t get over your anxiety sometimes.
You thought that grounding yourself with the cold surface of the microphone was going to calm your flipping stomach, but the harder you squeezed it, the warmer the metal was becoming, and this wasn’t helping.
It was worse than you expected, and you smiled awkwardly as one of your co-stars was answering a question.
‘Y/N?’ Sebastian whispered, and you jumped slightly because you thought he was on the other side, four people away from you. ‘You okay, baby?’ He asked concerned and saw the way you were holding for dear life the microphone in your hands.
‘I’m just anxious, but it’s okay.’ You mumbled and felt his big palm gently enveloping your arm, just above your elbow, squeezing it lightly.
He knew well how to calm your anxiety just with his touch, and you were only dating for a few months. It always seemed like he knew you better than anyone else, even better than you know yourself, but you knew him better, too.
‘I can’t wait for us to go home so I can finally calm you down a little.’ He groaned in your ear, not even carrying about the next question.
Your breath got stuck in your throat as you tried to form words in your mouth. Was he talking about sex? Probably. That’s why you just smiled tightly and whispered ‘Me too.’
But things weren’t that easy, not at all. Your anxiety was even worse when it came to having sex with Sebastian, which you never did because… well you still haven’t gotten to that part yet. It wasn’t because he didn’t want to or because you didn’t, you knew that he wanted this, but whenever stuff escalated between the both of you, you stopped him, always.
Being insecure about body parts was like being sick. It made you feel terrible. You couldn’t even enjoy the things you wanted to, just because of insecurity. An insecurity that was the end of many relationships for you. You realized how toxic they were, but they all ended when men stripped your panties and saw what was between your legs.
You couldn’t picture Sebastian reacting the way your exs did, but that feeling was still there. The feeling of not being good enough just because you were like this and there was nothing you could do to change it.
You arrived in front of Sebastian’s apartment, walking anxiously behind him as he unlocked the front door and opened it for you.
Before you could realize what was happening, he turned around on his toes, and his mouth found yours in an eager kiss. Both your tongues and teeth met each other as you were trying to pour every bottled-up feeling from today, every little piece of anxiety and awkwardness but not your insecurity.
Sebastian slowly walked into the apartment, still not breaking the kiss. You allowed him to lead you, but as soon as the hall ended, his hand left yours, and he wrapped his hands around your hips. He lifted you and placed you on the kitchen table.
‘Let me make you feel better…’ Sebastian tried to catch his breath after the heated kiss as his hands leisurely traveled down to the button of your jeans.
He looked at you from between your legs and unbuttoned them. At this moment, all you could think about was him being between your legs, waiting like a starved animal. But when he started to slide the jeans down your legs, your head snapped.
‘Stop!’ You shouted and lifted yourself on your elbows, shivering slightly from the cold surface of the table.
He immediately pulled away, shock written on his features, but what made your heart sink more was the worried look behind the shock.
‘Did I do something? God, I’m soo sorry! I didn’t want to hurt you!’ He started to ramble, his fingers ran anxiously through his hair.
‘Sebastian…’
‘I don’t know what happened. I just, I - ’
‘Sebastian!’ You shouted, and his rambling finally stopped. His head snapped up to look at you, eyes wide and watery. ‘I’m okay, baby. You didn’t do anything. It’s my fault.’
‘But you haven’t done anything wrong, sweetheart. Why are you saying it’s your fault? What’s wrong?’ His palms cupped your jaw, and you squeezed his wrists, closing your eyes for a moment.
‘All my past relationships ended when they found out about… about my vagina. I know it’s normal to have different types, and I know it sounds silly, but they never liked it. Like they were disgusted by the way it looks.’ You confessed, your cheeks becoming red.
‘Sweetheart, look at me.’ Sebastian put his index finger under your chin and lifted it so he could look into your eyes. ‘Those people had no idea how to love a woman. I’m not saying that I know how to love someone the right way, but I know that I love every part of you, no matter how it looks. I don’t want you to feel this way, and I’m sorry you had to go through this, but never think you’re less attractive because of your body. You are beautiful, and you should feel beautiful, baby. Every part of you is beautiful, and I’m going to show you how much I love every corner of your body if you let me.’
‘Please.’ You pleaded, your eyes watering a little from his speech. Sebastian removed your underwear and your shirt, tossing them to the side. He started kissing first your ankles, taking his time with your calves until he stopped for a while on your inner thighs. He slightly sucked on the soft skin there, leaving love marks all over them before his head disappeared between your legs.
‘So beautiful.’ He groaned against your core before his warm, damp tongue slid between your folds. You couldn’t help but moan, your grip around his waist tightened, bringing him even closer. Your hands ran through the soft locks of his hair as he sucked on your sensitive bud, making your spine arch in a rainbow shape.
‘I love you.’ You whimpered as his tongue twirled around the soft skin.
‘I love you.’ He murmured, the vibrations of his voice sent shivers down your spine before his tongue entered you.
You only hoped that his neighbors won’t hear your moans as they grew when his mouth wrapped around your clit and sucked harshly.
When his fingers replaced his tongue, opening and closing your soaking folds, you could taste yourself on his lips. His finger entered your hole as he felt your tight walls squeezing him inside of you.
The tight knot in your lower stomach continued to tighten until you couldn’t take it anymore.
It felt like a fresh wave washed over your body, and the tight knot was finally released, your walls clenching around his fingers.
‘You’re soo good, baby. I won’t let anyone tell you otherwise because you are the most beautiful woman. Every part of you and I will continue to do that until you understand it.’ Sebastian whispered against your lips, brushing your hair away from your face.
‘I don’t need anyone else to tell me… I just need you.’ You murmured against his lips before capturing them into a kiss.
⤿ summary [also requested by anon (thank you!)] : you reassure sebastian during the met gala.
warnings :fluff, one curse word, feeling insecure and people being rude
*feedback is appreciated. please reblog so it can reach more people♡
You were posing in front of the photographers whose camera flashes snapped and clicked with each photo being taken. Even after attending the Met Gala for many years now, you still got a little bit nervous as everyone yelled your name.
This year’s theme was Gilded Glamour. You loved those times and how women dressed back then in their pretty dresses and hair secured in a beautiful bun. That’s why you wanted to go a little extra on this event and it seemed to work. Everyone was in love with your dress.
You were wearing a long, white, satin dress with short sleeves, secured with an asymmetrical pastel pink bodice. The middle of the flowing material was tied with ribbon in the same pastel pink color as the corset. Two lines of pink satin waves were finishing the dress at your feet.
But the main highlight of your outfit was the flower décor all over the dress. Fake pink roses were attached all over the fabric, especially around the ribbon where part of the dress was tied like a bouquet and in your hair where it was tied in a half-bun. The outfit was completed with white satin gloves with a golden bracelet on each wrist and a pearl necklace ending with a golden charm.
‘Did you see what a terrible outfit Sebastian Stan is wearing?’ A voice came to your ears as you were trying to pose for more pictures. You tried to ignore it, thinking that it was probably something else and you only imagined it until you heard the reply.
‘It’s not even in the theme like how is he not embarrassed?’ Your heart sank into your chest as you quickly apologized and went in a search of your secret boyfriend. Even though you two had prepared together, you arrived at different times, still not wanting to expose your relationship. Most fans thought you were just really good friends, but that was far away from the truth.
The truth was that you and Sebastian were dating for over a year now, and keeping it a secret was the hardest part. Paparazzi don’t know privacy, but luckily you were known as good friends, so when pictures were taken they didn’t make a fuss. After all, you had been in 2 movies together.
As you were walking around the large space, you couldn’t stop thinking about how those girls talked behind his back. But while you were making your way through the crowd of people, you heard even more of those hateful comments.
Your eyes watered just at the thought of how happy he was before you left. He was happy to wear something different, to try something different. Yes, it was a challenging outfit, but he looked great in it, and you couldn’t be more proud of him when you saw him standing in front of the mirror.
But when your eyes fell on the man with a pink outfit who was posing for photos you saw the hurt in his eyes. You were still far away, but you hurried up to him.
‘Ew, ugly in pink!’ You heard in front of you and saw how Seb’s face immediately stopped to fake smile.
Rushing over to him, you hugged him, your face smashing in his chest as you felt the rushed beat of his heart. But as soon as he realized who was hugging him his arms wrapped around your waist, head resting on top of his head.
‘Hi.’ You whispered quietly, looking over at him and pulling away from his chest to pose next to him. ‘Hi, baby.’ He whispered back and snaked his arm around your waist, bringing you closer to his body.
‘I heard what that bitch said. You look stunning tonight, love.’ You kissed his cheek and saw them reddening under your compliment, which made you giggle.
‘Thank you, my love.’ Sebastian squeezed your waist, reassuring you that he was okay.
‘I love you.’ You said only with your lips but Sebastian understood, knowing too well how your lips moved when you told him that little phrase every morning.
‘I love you, too.’ He mouthed, and you smiled lovingly at the sight of him finally having fun at this too crowded party.
You couldn’t wait to go home and wash away all the stress he had to go through for this event. Sometimes pleasing fans is the most challenging thing people in your profession have to face.
For all the winter’s children, there some news, firstly I want to say take this with a grain of salt (I think that’s the say) because it’s Deuxmoi, and second that woman doesn’t look like Anabelle (maybe it’s the hair)
Damn it, my crush on Sebastian Stan was leaving me and then he comes and drops this look, he’s pulling me back, I feel the crush invading my body again.
NEW YORK, NEW YORK - MAY 18: Sebastian Stan attends the 50th Anniversary of Royal Oak hosted by Audemars Piguet on May 18, 2022 in New York City. (Photo by Dave Kotinsky/Getty Images for Audemars Piguet)
![Title: All this and Heaven, Too [2]Pairing: Dark!Bucky Barnes x ReaderSummary: Caught in an anti-her](https://64.media.tumblr.com/0c175516abf542b49baf582427fa27b2/2eab12baf9d49dc3-96/s1280x1920/f5f32e663e155eb7f1d3f95dede68badf3748f5a.jpg "Title: All this and Heaven, Too [2]Pairing: Dark!Bucky Barnes x ReaderSummary: Caught in an anti-her")
