#Duplicity | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jtargaryen18 · 3 days ago

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The Last Lantern ~ Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

Words: 3.5k

Pairings (to come): Bucky Barnes x Reader, Steve Rogers x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader x Steve Rogers

Story: You and your three best friends from college booked a posh, month-long tropical island getaway exclusively for women. When dinner is over, and the champagne stops flowing, it's time to get this party started.

What happens next, no one could have anticipated...

A/N: I've been battling writer's block for weeks. When I decided to just start writing something, this is what happened...

TW: Duplicity, drugging, kidnapping, stalking, tree sex, and lightning bolts. Many more to come...

Disclaimer: The author of this work claims no ownership of characters aside from the reader and original secondary characters mentioned. This work is not intended for those under the age of 18 due to explicit sexual content and darker themes. By reading this work or any works on my blog (jtargaryen18), you agree that you are at least 18. I do not consent to copying, translating, or posting my work on other apps.

"There she is!" Sadie's voice pulled your attention to your group of waiting friends.

Sadie looked like a movie star as she rose the the elegant table, gracefully wearing stilettos so high they'd make your nose bleed. She looked beautiful in the forest green cocktail dress she wore, her hair shining in gorgeous red spirals and her green eyes sparkling with mischief. She managed to hug you tight with a full champagne glass held in one hand. The jasmine and rose scent she wore unmistakably Chanel No. 5.

Mina and Ellen were waiting to hug you next and they were dressed to the nines too. Mina wore her favorite "little black dress" and her dark hair was elegantly swept up into a sophisticated style you'd never seen her wear - but it suited her. Excitement lit up her dark eyes and her cheeks were flushed with excitement. Or alcohol, considering she almost lost her balance on her high heels when she welcomed you with a hug.

But Ellen, well, she was a masterpiece in a deep sapphire-blue dress that showed off her gorgeous figure, highlighting the cool, jewel undertones of her flawless brown skin. She'd worn her hair up too, showing off her slender, elegant neck and the golden string of delicate diamonds she wore. Her hug was warm, her smile wide as she stepped back and her gaze swept over you.

Yeah, next to your friends who looked like a trio of goddesses, to say you were lacking was an understatement. You were in jeans and T-shirt with a light jacket and sneakers. You had no makeup on, your hair in its normal style. You felt pretty lucky that none of the staff said anything to you. You wouldn't be surprised at all if there were an imposed dress code. All you could do was hope your luck held out.

"I'm glad you finally made it," Ellen said. "What happened with your flight?"

Your flight had been delayed by two hours because of the hurricane that had threatened the eastern seaboard for the last week. When you finally reached your destination airport, you had to try and contact the folks who were running Elysium to arrange for transportation since you'd missed their shuttle earlier. After an hour or so of no one answering, and your friends weren't answering either, you were about to give up. But when you saw an Elysium limousine at the front of the airport. You'd dashed out to ask if you could get a ride and explained your situation. The older driver smiled, explaining you were exactly why he returned to the airport.

It was a huge relief. The four of you had been planning this vacation to Elysium for literally months. The month-long island stay was exclusive, expensive, with a waiting list two years long.

When you arrived, they immediately hustled you to a waiting helicopter and flew you with your belongings to the island. You'd been shown to your room where you left your things and you'd immediately headed to the dinner event. You'd probably missed most of it. You were hoping you could still get something to eat. You'd brought a couple of protein bars for your trip and it was all you'd eaten today.

Blowing out an exhale, you shook your head. "I tried to text you guys," you explained. "My flight was delayed by two hours because of Hurricane Arlene. I got to the airport and I was calling Elysium, calling you guys. I couldn't get anyone to answer. Finally, they sent another limousine to get me and then flew me over here."

"We were talking about the cell phone thing," Mina said, walking around their table to retake her seat. "It must be bad cell coverage or something. None of us have gotten a single bar since we arrived here on the island."

"Which sucks because I promised my kids I'd call them each night before they went to bed," Sadie said, sitting between Mina and Ellen. She was the only one in your group who had kids -- the cutest like girls, one and three, with curly red hair just like hers. Their father recently left the picture and she'd been despondent. Trying to find a way to cheer her up was ultimately the reason they were there.

"Well, we'll ask someone," you said, knowing how important that was. "I'm sure there's some way to get a phone call out. I mean they have to for emergencies, right?"

Sadie nodded, downing her champagne.

Now that you were there, you took a moment to look around. The dinner scene was pure paradise—a secluded beachfront on a tropical island, where the golden hues of the setting sun cast a warm glow over the pristine white sands. A long, elegant table stretches beneath a canopy of swaying palm trees, adorned with soft, flowing linens in ivory and gold. The table settings are exquisite, with fine china, crystal stemware, and gold-rimmed plates reflecting the candlelight flickering in delicate glass holders.

Above, an enchanting display of lanterns, suspended from the trees and wooden posts, sway gently in the island breeze, casting a soft, romantic glow over the scene. Some were traditional paper lanterns, their intricate designs filtering the light in mesmerizing patterns, while others were delicate glass orbs filled with twinkling fairy lights.

Chefs in tall white hats and immaculate coats move gracefully between stations, preparing and plating gourmet dishes with the precision of artists. Freshly grilled seafood, vibrant tropical salads, and decadent desserts are arranged on each plate like masterpieces. A sommelier moves between guests, pouring glasses of the finest wines and champagne, the bubbles catching the candlelight in an effervescent dance.

A live string quartet played in the background, the melody of their songs mingling with the sound of waves lapping at the shore. The musicians, dressed in crisp white and soft linen, performed a classical piece, creating an atmosphere of sophistication and enchantment. You smiled at the magical feeling of everything all around you.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, the sky transformed into a masterpiece of deep purples, fiery oranges, and velvety blues. The guests, exclusively women, dressed in elegant evening attire like your friends, toasting the moment's beauty. Laughter and conversation drifted through the air like music.

You sat in the empty chair at the table with your friends. As you settled in, you noticed the empty champagne bottle under the table. Another was open on the table, and it was nearly empty. Reaching for the empty glass, you smiled."Can I have the rest?" You pointed at the bottle.

The group of them laughed. "Of course," Ellen told her, pouring it in your glass herself. "It's really good."

"It must be. Thank you."

"Now that we're all here," Mina said, raising her glass, "here's to the best month-long goddamn girls' vacation fucking ever!"

Cheering, you clinked your glasses together for her toast. Just as you were about to take a drink, a voice over a loudspeaker said, "Ladies, welcome!"

Holy shit! Tony Stark stood at the podium before your gathering, his back to the trees off the beach. The four of you exchanged glances with excitement. You'd been told a celebrity or two might be on the island during your stay. You were expecting an influencer or minor actor. None of you expected Tony Stark, devastatingly handsome in his immaculate tuxedo, to be here for your island getaway.

"Have you had a wonderful evening so far?" he asked, his hazel-eyed gaze behind his trademark glasses skimming over all of you.

As enthusiastic calls and whoops rose to answer his question, you looked around. There were probably a dozen tables gathered, all ladies who had booked this vacation. It was a little interesting that you all seemed to be a younger crowd, twenties and thirties. Hell, you and your friends had all gone to college together and you actually planned the trip to celebrate your thirtieth birthdays.With the money it took to book this island getaway, an opulent women's retreat, you would have expected to see at least a couple of older ladies.There wasn't a single one.

Taking a sip of the champagne, you listened to Tony Stark thank all the benefactors and corporations that made this event possible. Event? That sounded odd because you’d signed up for a month-long luxury getaway with your best friends from college. He made it sound like some big charity or scientific event.

The inside of your mouth tingled. You stopped looking into your half-full champagne glass. There was a strange aftertaste to the sparkling beverage. Putting it back on the table, you returned your attention to the billionaire still speaking.

“Now, are you all excited to get started?” Tony asked.

The cheers from all of you were modest.

He rolled his eyes. “Come on. You can do better than that.”

You all whooped and cheered while he motioned with his hands for more. Louder, louder. When the lot of you finally hit the right decibel, he conceded.

“We have two awesome OG members of the Avengers tonight helping us get this party started,” he continued. “They’re not as awesome as me, granted. But they’re still pretty awesome. Give it up for Hawkeye and the Black Widow.”

More cheering as the pair of Avengers walked out to join Tony. You studied them hard. It was indeed Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff. Wow. They weren’t dressed for the occasion but wore their uniforms, and you guessed that maybe that was to lend authenticity to their presence. The Black Widow was amazingly beautiful, with luminous green eyes and a perfect figure with the right combination of tone and curves. When you gazed at Clint Barton, you found his gaze on you. At that point, you stopped staring.

“Ladies, if you’re finished with your meal and refreshments,” Tony said, “let’s start the show.”

After more applause, Tony stepped back, and workers for the event came and took away the background that had been behind him, which ended up being a few greenery pieces and a couple of potted plants. They revealed a pathway leading into the deep wooded area of the island. And the path revealed was beautiful, lit by more small lanterns to lead the way.

"Ladies," Clint Barton called, "form a line right here." He pointed to the space before him, and just like that, women from other tables spilled out and formed a line, some steady on their feet, others not so much. "You'll head down the path. When you reach the last lantern, you'll know you're in the right place.

Ellen, Mina, and Sadie rose from the table, going in that direction. Mina still didn't look so steady on her heels, but Sadie carefully squeezed your upper arm. "Come on, bitch. Time to party!"

Smiling, you rose, hanging back and watching the other women wobble on their heels to get in line for whatever came next. You followed your friends and ended up the last in line for whatever island adventure you were about to embark on.

Mina and Sadie giggled like teenagers when they approached, asking if they could go in together. With a beautiful smile, the Black Widow granted their request. Ellen stepped up next, and only then did you notice that Clint Barton scanned her with some high-tech wand he held in his hand. The Black Widow had a tablet in her hand, and after the scan, a bunch of stats on Ellen flashed on the screen. You tried to read it but didn't get very much of it. You could have sworn you saw "last menstrual cycle" on the device.

The fuck?

You watched Ellen wander in, looking all around her in wonder.

Then it was your turn, and you were the last one. When you stepped up, again, Clint Barton gave you that assessing stare.

"Name?" he asked, smiling after a moment. You gave him your name, and he scanned you with the wand. Immediately, you looked to see what was on the screen the Black Widow held, but she shifted, pulling it out of your view.

"Go ahead," Barton told you, motioning you forward with his hand. "Look for the last lantern."

With no idea what to expect, you shoved your hands into your jacket pockets and started walking into the island's heart. You could have sworn you heard Clint Barton behind you say something and then "dressed like that?"

"It doesn't make a difference," you thought the Black Widow said.

Were they talking about the fact that you were dressed for the grocery store and not as a guest on their upscale, luxury island? You felt bad enough as it was. But considering what you paid and that you couldn't control the weather, they'd just have to deal. You were here, and honestly, as a chilly breeze blew against your back, you were a little grateful that you weren't in a skimpy cocktail dress or heels.

You'd wandered several feet in when you noticed you didn't see anyone else. Where were Mina, Sadie, and Ellen? They'd been right in front of you. You stopped, taking a whiff of the air, trying to pick up traces of Sadie's perfume. But you didn't smell anything besides the tropical paradise all around you, the scent of the ocean beyond.

Everything felt peaceful, and beautiful birds flew around you, singing to announce the approaching night. You appreciated the view, but you were puzzled because, best you could tell, there were forty-some other women on this island. Where were they now? You'd watched most of them walk down the same path you took, but where had they gone?

What were you supposed to be doing anyway? It was getting dark.

Someone screamed, and you froze. It sounded like Mina. Oh, shit. What was going on with this place?

"Mina?" you called back. There was no answer. The birds stopped singing, but the dull roar of the ocean never ceased. Your heart pounded in fear, drowning it all out. "Mina!"

You took off in the direction you thought the scream came from; none of the other women, including your friends, were in sight. You stopped after a few minutes to catch your breath, your mind scrambling. "Mina!" you yelled again. Surely to fuck someone could hear you, right?

You kept moving, but a sense of foreboding sent a chill down your spine. Something wasn't right here. At all. A rustling sound had you spinning around, looking for the source of that noise. You saw nothing. Anxiety kept your heart flying and sped up your breathing.

The air around you stilled, the kind of silence that crawls under your skin, a warning that something isn't right. You weren't alone. Someone else was there. You heard them. More rustling sounds made your breath hitch. You still can’t see whoever stalked you, but you know someone's there. Was it one of the other women?

Then, the sound of the branches snapping—the faintest rustle—drew your attention upward, and it was like an image from a nightmare. From the highest point of the tree you stood under, a huge man drops like a shadow, moving too fast for you to react, a blur of motion. When he lands, his presence fills the space like a predator closing in. His body is built like a weapon, sleek but powerful, and even without seeing his face, something about how he moves sends a chill down your spine. Every motion is precise and controlled—this isn't just a man; it's an extension of violence itself.

You can barely make out the outline of his mask, but even from a distance, you feel the cold, soulless gaze through it. It was unsettling how his mask absorbs the light, hiding the person behind it. It made him feel more like a ghost than a man. He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. The quiet intensity of his every movement is enough to tell you he’s been watching you the whole time, waiting for the right moment.

His hand moves to the dark metal arm—part of him, part of the weapon—glinting ominously in the dim light. A flick of the wrist and a knife appears as though it’s always been there, like an extension of his body. He’s calm, too calm, and it’s terrifying. A chill runs up your spine as you realize this isn't just a guy in a costume. It’s something worse. A hunter.

And I’m his prey.

You were frozen to the spot, staring at the dangerous-looking man who just jumped down from the tree. Intense, pale blue colored eyes peered at you from the top of the black mask covering his lower face. His longer hair hung in shining dark waves around his face, and the effect was terrifying. The man had a knife, for fuck's sake.

You shook your head before you could think of a thing to say. "Nuh-uh."

You cut and run, sprinting like hell in the opposite direction. You didn't know what was going on here, but this was not how you expected your month-long bestie Island luxury resort getaway to go. At all. You hauled ass, trying not to trip as you ran, hoping to find the entrance with Hawkeye and Black Widow. Maybe one of them could deal with the guy chasing you now.

When he grabbed the back of your jacket, he used it to pull you to a halt. You tried to scream, but nothing came out. Scrambling in fear, you unzipped your jacket, letting him pull it off you as you darted ahead. Your heart hammered in your chest. You ran as fast as you humanly could.

As you ran, you passed another woman fleeing in terror; her shoes were gone, and her elegant silver dress had ripped. You changed directions to head for her. But out of nowhere, the Falcon swooped in, grabbing the woman like a hawk snatching up a field mouse while in flight. He carried her up and away.

What the fuck was happening?

Your heart pounded in your chest. The masked man's footsteps pounded behind you. You were so busy glancing back at the man trying to catch you barely missed being struck by a massive bolt of lightning. Lightning? From fucking where? You hid behind a bigger tree and looked to the sky for a coming storm. It wasn't a storm you saw. You saw an unbelievable sight in the tree next to the one where you hid. A woman from the dinner party, a pretty blonde with a red dress and red lipstick, was pinned to a tree a good twenty feet up.

What?

Random lightning strikes had you flinching and squinting to make out what was happening there. Another blond, huge and muscular, impossibly hovered up there with her, fucking her into the tree with abandon. The top half of him was bare, the woman's legs wrapped around his slim waist, her red heels digging into his navy-colored pants.

Oh, my God. Is that Thor?

When another lightning strike hit too close to you, you screamed. When you started running again, you ran right into the masked man. A metal arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you off your feet and against a body that was just as hard. Your breath huffed out as he pinned you to his side in an unrelenting grip and took off running.

Thank God you hadn't drank much. The sight of the wooded area of the island flew by at terrifying speed, and you tucked your head against him to keep from getting sick. It felt like you were flying. You moved so fast, and all you could do was hope that, somehow, this was part of the arrangement. It was just something fun they were surprising you with. An immersive experience that you'd all laugh about later.

But then Falcon grabbed that woman... And Thor fucked another woman up a tree. That didn't seem like something that would be on the itinerary...

You cried out for help as you were carried away at a dizzying speed. That metal arm tightened around you in response, compressing your ribs. His metal arm. It hit you then who exactly had snatched you away.

You'd been captured by the fucking Winter Soldier.

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neonovember · 11 months ago

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Deceit

Mafia!au x Steve Rogers

CHAPTERS: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

summary: your escape to Brooklyn was harboured by secrets and a harrowed past, left abused and betrayed, you accepted your destiny of being swallowed by the crowd. Until the King of New York showed up in front of you and wanted a piece of you for himself.

divider by @firefly-graphics !

Taglist 🏷️ (send an ask to be part of my taglist for this series!)

@tinkerbelle67 @patzammit @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory@nomadstucky @nessie2183 @shamelessfangirl-3 @namelesssav @marvel-phoenix @euphoric-goddess @roseeatta @abschaffer2 @louderfortheback @stupendouslovegardener @wandamaximoff-simp @thedonswife13 @hpsimpspot @samsgirl93 @cynic-spirit

Bucky is quiet the ride over, dark steel greys surveying the road eagerly, like he was waiting for someone, or something to give him a reason to jump out and spill blood.

The wheel wains in his grip, and his dark hair falls over in waves, pushed back behind his ears and smelling of pine nut and mint. There's a hint of a smile on his face, he knows you're watching him.

You avert your gaze quickly, looking towards the mountain trees on either side of the asphalt road ahead.

The relief you had thought would fill you as Bucky pulls into the potholed road of your apartment is blank, and your chest fills vacant without the heat of it. Your mind is restless, and the entire ride over had given you ample time to think over everything that had happened earlier.

You had folded and unfolded every piece of information Bucky had told you about Steve and all it had done was make you feel like you were intruding, like you were given privy to something you had no right knowing. Like peeking through the cracks under closed doors as a child listening in on their parents.

Where your street had once been busy with loitering huddles of gaunt faced men, a quiet murmur settles over the ground floor of your apartment complex, all the way up to the hallway to your place.

And as you pass by a few stragglers who blanch when Bucky shifts his hard gaze towards them, stuttering over their own feet and rushing back to their alleyways, you have an inclination that it was all Steves doing.

His reach was absolute.

You didn’t know what to feel, you’ve known displacement for too long.

Separating from your betrothed, separated from the life you had been half folded into, separating from the very syllabus of your name.

The spaces between the letters get further and further as the years go by. Until you can hardly remember if your namesake is really yours, just a frightening sound that came out of your husband's mouth.

This is different though. Until now, your instinct has always been right. And yet, when you think of Steve? When you try to find footing in your gut it comes up wobbly and unsure.

Was he something more than he let on? Did he only uncover pieces of himself for his own benefit?

Bucky had told you he had lost his own wife, and young too. Forced to be exposed to the brutality of the world before he could even get a chance to indulge in youthful recklessness.

You feel a sense of empathy for him, but also, also surprise. It isn’t the murder, or your own husbands doing that causes a slight slip of your heart. The truth is much more foolish instead.

There was a time Steve was ready to forsake this entire life, live forever looking over his shoulder, turn back on tradition that was as deep as marrow, all for love.

You could laugh if you had remembered what that felt like. The thought outright unnerves you. Steve? The gluttonous leader who held sanctions of New York with an iron fist?

It drives a pit in your stomach when you think too hard about what it means.

There’s a fiery jealousy that swarms you, you had never understood the wielding power that love carried all your life. It was a feeling, just like any other was it not?

Yet it had men like Steve falling to his knees!

And all that swarms your mind is how it’s so unfair, that you’ve never experienced such a thing. That you may never will. Forced to succumb to the life that was only half yours, down a path so far the ground had changed beneath you.

What did it feel like to give in? To show all your misgivings with unabashed apprehension? To let yourself, all of it, to another person?

Anything close to a love like that had come from the faded memories of your father, his warmth and deep gritted protectiveness over you. And that had been stripped from you quicker that you were able to forsake it.

You suppose that wasn't meant to be dealt in your cards, which you had come to understand were drawn years ago. You lie to yourself, but during some nights the aching desire to feel something, to taste the deep gripping love that had caused even Steve to lose focus explodes deep in your gut.

Your longing for connection was something you hid well, and god didn’t you get awfully good at hiding these years? Fit yourself in nooks and crannies that were too small, smoothed out your jagged edges to click into the puzzle pieces.

And yet, the empathy you had silently shared, the intimate conversation you had had with Steve in your mind is stamped out with swiftness as Bucky walks you to your door.

That was then, now Steve had made it perfectly clear where he stood. The cool indifference and hardening this life caused had stolen any shine or hope that Steve may have held those years ago. Everything he did now was calculated, for the betterment of broadening his kingdom.

He might as well have died along with her.

Bucky leans against the hallway, eyes surveying the decrepit halls lit by overexerted linoleum lights. You hesitate a moment, before popping your keys into your door, twisting it this way and that to get it to open.

You flinched as the door opened wide, almost like you were expecting someone to be standing right behind it, waiting for your arrival before pouncing. You’re a child, waiting for the ghoul in the closet to jump out.

Yet all that is there is the same peeling walls of your small entryway and some shoes and a coat strewn to the side in your haste to get to the diner early those days before.

You’d much prefer the monster.

Days, it had only been days, so why did it feel like a lifetime since you stepped foot into your home?

You don’t know what you were expecting, for your apartment to change when you had been kept away from it unceremoniously? For someone to have cleaned out the dishes lying in the sink, and ruffle the pillows lying on your old sofa?

You had craved mundanity for so long, craved consistently at a time where you didn’t know which face of your husband you would meet those days.

When the monster living underneath your husband's skin would jump out.

But now, you crave something more. It simmers right under your skin, deep within your chest and its shadowy fingers flutter over every inch of you.

Your apprehension is evident by the way Bucky shifts his way towards you stuttering frame.

“Hey, I wouldn't be so keen on coming home to this place either. Those carpets don’t look that inviting" Bucky replies, there is a sight lilt in his voice as he drags his eyes across your depressing furnishing.

You cut your eyes towards him, narrowing your lids.

“Not everyone lives in an exorbitant palace you know” You gruffly reply, shuffling into your door in a way that was more spite than eagerness.

Bucky breaks out in a grin that takes up half his face, his hand stuffed into his suit pockets as he rocks on the balls of his feet.

“Talking like a woman who hasn’t done just that half her life” Bucky replies, cocking his head to the side.

Oh right, your husband's estate that took up half of the city. One that was never, and would never be in your name.

You drop your handbag onto one of the hooks attached to the hallway, turning towards Bucky with a sigh.

“That’s different” You reply evenly

“Oh yeah? How so?” Bucky murmurs, eyes shining with a smile

“I was never welcomed in that home- house. God it would never be a home no matter how many architects and designers dressed it up. You think I escaped ‘cause it was my safe haven?” You cock your head to the side and Bucky’s face evens out. The smile adorning his features morphs back into his face as a look passes through his eyes.

“You don’t have to worry about that with Steve-”

“Oh yeah? Because he is the most upfront person to talk to. Right. This place, as depressing as it looks, is solely mine. It’s the only thing I have on this goddamn earth that hasn't been mauled and changed with my husband's fingers. Or the life he leads. You might not understand it, how important that is but-”

“I do. Trust me” Bucky replies, cutting you with and he offers you a nod that was more understanding than half the world's he promised to you.

Can I? You wonder thoughtfully. Was this just a part of some elaborate plan that Rumlow had clued you on? You were everywhere all at once, topsy turvy and turned inside out. This was the life you had to live now.

“Good” You say instead, wringing your fingers as Bucky’s phone begins to buzz from his pants pocket.

You wait for him to reach for it immediately, but he doesn't, just remains quiet as he taps his foot against the hardwood floor. There seemed to be a look of understanding that passed between you when he had racked his fist against the wall adjacent to your door.

The blues of his eyes twinkled under the sun peeking through the hallway window, and you didn’t realize it then but it was trust that shined in his eyes. Like the words he had shared with you warranted the same secrecy he held with the other men he worked with.

You had paid in flesh and blood for your silence, what more was another pound?

The ring runs through, and the silence soon returns between you both.

“I’m not going to the mouth off to half of Brooklyn that their most influential business man likes painting” You reply with a murmur, eyes darting left and right as if neighbors were listening in. Enough of them had watched you walk to your apartment door, eyes strained on Bucky and his shoes that shine too bright. Faces that had never even said hello had craned their necks as you passed, of course. Whispers of inquisition under their breath.

“I know you won’t” Bucky replies instantly. “Just- let him explain the rest of it, yeah? ‘S only fair you hear it from him”

“Fair?” You raise your eyebrows, “You’re talking about fairness now? Bullshit. If you were guided by some moral compass I wouldn't have been forced into this, you wouldn't even be in this life” You snark unconsciously.

Where does this all come from? You hadn't even raised an eyebrow at your husband, and now you were bad mouthing a man with a gun poking through his waistband. You look down, staring at the unusual stain in the hallway carpet you never quite knew what was. The anxiety and timidness you were used to coming back tenfold.

Bucky doesn't retaliate, just looks towards you with a feather-like smirk.

“I was wrong about you, y’know?” Bucky whispers, leaning in as if he were divulging in a secret he couldn't let be spoken in the open air.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re everything like Steve.” Bucky replies thoughtfully, a far away look taking over his dark features.

He’s miles away, reminiscing about parts of Steve that had been left in the dark. He looks younger than, when you notice the way his eyebrows scrunch and his locks fall flat over his face.

But it's enveloped back into Bucky in a second, a sad smile replacing his grin.

“If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call”

Giving you one last nod, he turns back towards the hallway entrance and it takes you a few moments before you realise.

“But I don't have your number!” You call out, leaning out your door

His brown locks shift as he turns back to you

“You sure about that?” A raise of his eyebrows at the ping of your phone, waving you with two fingers.

You don't have to pull it out to know it's him. And you can't help but let out a chuckle before turning back and shutting the door firmly.

You find yourself accompanying your time scrubbing down the floorboard and yellowed walls of your home, filling your hours since Bucky had left with meager tasks. It helps you think, concentrating on little chores around the house so you don't have to think about the thoughts that rattled loudly in your mind.

It’s still well into the morning, and as the sun filters through your drapes you lean back on your heels nodding accomplished at the glint of the shining floors. The walls were an impassive yellow, never yielding no matter what cleaning products you threw at them, but beyond the old entryway carpet the apartment was lined with pristine hardwood floors that shined with a little elbow grease.

Not that shitty huh Bucky?

Wiping the sweat that had grown increasingly uncomfortable above your brow, you make way to your small enclosed kitchenette, swiping a cup from the drying rack before you watch the water fill to its glass edge. You gulp half of it down, before your much needed break is interrupted by the faint buzzing of your phone emitted from somewhere in the living room.

You forage for it quickly, searching till you find it wedged between the cracks of your couch. You pause for a moment, considering whether it might be Bucky, or Steve calling but as you see the vibrating screen of your manager's face you slide the receiver across the screen.

You brace yourself for the inevitable screech of her voice, you haven't been to work in days, an irregular for you considering the mountain of bills that left your bank account squandered each month. You needed this job, and now Steve hand upended your life, you fear it’ll slip through your fingers.

Manager calls, you pick up, she’s very quiet and apprehensive and is all sweet in a a way you remember she never had been before. She’s almost scared to talk to you, asking about a shift you could cover and you say yea without thinking. You need a distraction. Even if Steve had made it clear you no longer needed to worry about work.

“Hello?” You reply, eyebrows furrowing at the beat of silence that fills the space usually used up by ** loud un yielding demands.

“Y/N? Hey, how are you doing” Replies carefully, as if choosing her words.

“What?” You blurt out

You can’t help the confusion that puzzles your voice, who was this person? In the months you had spent working at that dead end job not once has she ever asked how you were. Not when you had spent half your break with your head in your toilet the first few months you had escaped. A cat on edge, nerves frazzled by even the slightest heavy stamp of a dress shoe.

What had changed?

You don’t have to kid yourself, you know the answer deep down. Him, it always goddamn is.

“Sorry, uhm I’m been doing good” You reply “I apologise for kind of just disappearing on you and the Diner”

“Oh that? That’s totally fine, once your friends cleared that up” 8 gulped, the sharp exhale of breath filling the receiver at the mention of this friend of yours.

“Friend?” You reply

“Don’t worry about it, I’m glad your doing alright. Uh-, so uhm ’s sister dropped her kids off at 4am last night at hers, she cant her shift. And * got SAT prep. Can you fill in if possible it’s totally okay if you can’t, I needed to stay back a few anyway-”

“Sure”

You needed the distraction, you felt stifled in the walls of your apartment. It wasn’t meant to be a prison, and yet the only time you felt truly free now was when you slammed the door behind you.

“-oh, Oh thank you! Thank you so much. If you could come in at 12, it’s just the afternoon shift. And if you need to leave for whatever reason it’s totally fine you don’t even have to tell me-“

“Mare?

“Yes?”

“Relax. I miss the diner and it’s crappy linoleum lights anyways”

Mare snorts into the receiver “The teams missing you too”

After passing a few more instructions on the wave of Russian tourists coming through Brooklyn this time of year you let your phone clatter onto the coffee table.

Sure, your manager could be a pain in the ass but being passive aggressive didn’t warrant a mob leader holding you at gunpoint.

You wonder what Steve had said to her to cause her to be this shaken up, she was the most stubborn woman you’ve ever met. It couldn’t have been easy to have her yield, at least not without some sort of real threat.

Especially in New York.

You rifle through your bag before grabbing your work uniform. The musty smell of old oil and grease makes you throw it haphazardly into the laundry basket before reaching for a clean shirt.

You try to look presentable, washing your face with the bathroom tap that never not juts out cold water. You avoid your reflection when you pay your face dry, which is interestingly enough, hard to do since it’s well..your face.

Drawing the wisps of coils that spring free you pull your hair back into a bun. You don’t bother with makeup, it never quite sat right on your face when you did it. Reaching for your bag and throwing your phone and the rest of your miscellaneous, you hurry down the steps of your apartment complex.

Popping in your earphones as you step into the train carriage, you memorise the dock and pull of the train ride till you feel your stop. Your music swims through your veins, and you breathe it in before opening your eyes to the tram doors opening.

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