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reddorkredemption · 1 year ago

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My Blessed Son—Chapter 16

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Summary:

For years, Jack Marston dreamed of killing Edgar Ross, the man who had taken everything from him, who had ruined his life. His obsession with revenge had given him a reason to keep going. But now, after it was done, he was left lost, depressed and without purpose. He was left to navigate life alone with the unforgiving eyes of the law slowly narrowing in on him. Though he soon comes to realize that perhaps he isn't quite as alone as he thought he would be. A continuation from the end of Red Dead Redemption 1.

Word Count: ~4700

Chapter under the cut <3

Jack sat on his bed, an old bolt-action rifle resting in his lap. He was working on wiping away all of the dust and grime that had built up on the gun, preparing to go out hunting for elk in Tall Trees. He and Lilly were growing desperate for money, and the pelts would fetch a pretty price, especially with the weather cooling down.

Jack was also desperate to get away from the ranch for a while. He hadn’t left the property once since he had returned, unless standing on the other side of the fence while making repairs counted. Being cooped up was starting to make him restless, and that feeling was only amplified by his lingering fear of those bureau agents returning.

It had been several days since they came and went, and there had been no sign of them since. Lilly regularly walked the perimeter of the ranch to look out for them, but she never found anything out of the ordinary. This soothed him somewhat, but he knew that he’d still end up having to face them eventually. And the thought filled him with dread.

Still, he did his best to shove it away, burying it under his stubborn resolve to fix up the ranch.

Lifting the rifle out of his lap, Jack gave it a final once-over to ensure it was clean. Once he was satisfied, he slung the sling over his shoulder, got up, and left the room. Before heading to the front door, he stopped by the living room where Lilly had started working on cleaning the interior of the house. He found her standing on a stool, back turned to him as she dusted the area around the fireplace.

“Hey,” he said to her back. “I’m leavin’ now.”

She glanced over her shoulder and smiled at him. “Alright.” Pulling away from her chores and turning to face him, she twirled the duster in her hands and said, “You be careful out there.”

“I’ll try.”

“No.” She jabbed at his chest with the end of the duster's handle. “You will.”

He lowered his head and chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. There was that funny feeling again— the stirring in his chest, the subtle heat rising in his cheeks. “Okay. I will.”

“Good. That’s better,” she murmured, turning to resume cleaning. “I’ll see you later.”

A small smile now plastered on his face, he bid her goodbye and headed for the front door.

Lilly called after him, “Don’t forget I have to be in town for work by two!”

“I haven’t!” he shouted back as he opened the door.

Stepping outside, he rubbed his hands together as the crisp morning air enveloped him. He hopped off the porch, heading for the hitching post in front of the house where Ace was already saddled up and ready to go. He gave the horse a pat on the back before mounting up.

He chose to stray off the path and take a shortcut to the woods, passing by the ranch’s gazebo, which was now in much better shape since they’d cleaned it up. The brush around it had largely been cleared, aside from some vines snaking up the pillars. Lilly had opted to leave them because they gave the structure character— whatever that meant.

While they cleaned, he had also given her more context regarding the situation with Edgar Ross since his original explanation was a vague, emotionally charged mess. He wasn’t sure if the second explanation was all that better, but it was something.

Jack rode to the fence at the edge of the property, hopping over it before picking up his pace to the forest.

———

Winter always seemed to come earlier in Tall Trees. The deeper Jack got into the forest, the colder it became, and patches of snow began to dot the landscape. Wind whistled through the tops of the trees, rustling them and sending pine needles falling to the ground. Luckily, the brush surrounding him was thick enough to keep the air around him relatively still, so the wind’s chill didn’t reach him.

He hadn’t done much hunting in the past few years— not like this. All of his efforts had gone towards preparing to hunt down Edgar Ross. Everything else fell by the wayside.

And his lack of experience was certainly showing as he rode aimlessly through the woods for hours. Tracking down elk was a lot harder than he remembered— a lot harder than when he first did it with his father all those years ago. Without Rufus’s keen nose to sniff them out and his father to guide him, Jack was utterly useless. Sure, he may have been a much better shot now, but that meant nothing if he couldn’t find anything to shoot.

The longer he rode around without finding anything, the more frustration built up inside of him. Until finally, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a line of indentations in a large patch of snow. He gave the reins a harsh tug, and his horse skidded to a halt.

Hopping out of the saddle, Jack knelt down to examine them and confirmed that they were animal tracks— more specifically, the large cloven hoof prints he had been searching for. He perked up and pulled the rifle off his shoulder, holding it firmly in both hands. Whistling for his horse to tag along, he slowly followed the tracks.

The trail led him out of the snow, into a small patch of mud and then disappeared without a trace where the dirt hardened again. Furrowing his brows, he meticulously scanned the ground, trying to pick the trail back up. When that failed, he looked up and around at his surroundings. But all he saw were trees— trees and brush and squirrels that chittered as if they were laughing at him.

His grip on his rifle tightened as he began to grow enraged by his failure. In a fit, he threw the gun onto the ground and got down on his hands and knees. Leaning forward until he was inches from the ground, he swiped at the dirt in the hopes that some buried clue would reveal itself to him. But again, he came up with nothing.

Giving up, he plopped down on the ground next to his discarded rifle and rested his back against the thick trunk of a tree. He wiped the dirt off of his hands, now slightly numb from the cold, and clutched his temples.

What was he missing? Why was he so terrible at this?

He didn’t have all day to stumble around out here until luck decided to take pity on him. But he couldn’t bear to return home empty-handed. They needed money. Their kitchen was empty, and they were living off of eggs and coffee.

The rustling of bushes in the distance made him raise his head and then immediately lower it again when he found nothing of interest. It was likely just the squirrels.

Maybe he ought to settle for hunting down one of them. How wonderfully ridiculous and pathetic would that be?— coming home after hours of hunting and slamming one whole squirrel down onto the table. Somehow, that sounded worse than going back with nothing.

More rustling rang out, this time from the bushes right in front of him, and Ace whinnied. Jack glanced up disinterestedly, not expecting to see anything. Instead, he found himself staring down a massive, jet-black wolf. It was sitting down no more than a couple of feet in front of him and towering over him.

He yelped and flailed his arm out, feeling around in the grass to grab his rifle. Once he secured a grip on the weapon, he raised the barrel in the wolf’s direction. He attempted to line up the shot, but the violent shaking of his hands made it impossible. So he simply shut his eyes and squeezed the trigger, praying the shot would hit— or at the least, scare the animal off.

The rifle gave an anticlimactic click, refusing to go off. Cursing, Jack desperately tried the trigger again, and then again, receiving nothing for his efforts besides more stubborn clicks.

Then, it dawned on him: he never reloaded it after cleaning it. He had forgotten to. He had been trudging around the forest alone, carrying an unloaded gun. And now, he was about to pay for that stupidity.

He tossed the gun in the dirt and fumbled for his hunting knife, pulling it out and clumsily brandishing it at the wolf. He grit his teeth as he forced himself to finally take a good look at the animal.

It was then that he realized the wolf hadn’t moved. Hadn’t growled, hadn’t bared its teeth, hadn’t done anything at all. Its shrewd, smokey eyes stared back at him, appearing almost amused by the spectacle he was putting on.

Jack slowly lowered the knife but kept the tip of the blade trained on the animal’s face. It looked as if it’d been slashed before— multiple times, right across the muzzle. But that wasn’t all that surprising, considering its bizarre behavior.

He glanced up at Ace, expecting him to be distressed, but the horse didn’t seem to have a care in the world. He was happily grazing on the grass at his feet.

“What’s wrong with you?” he hissed at the horse, unable to keep his voice from shaking. “Do something!”

Ace lifted his head, glanced at the wolf, and let out a soft nicker. He then turned to Jack and calmly stared at him as he ground a blade of grass between his teeth.

Puzzled, Jack looked back at the wolf, and it suddenly rose to its feet, causing him to flinch and flail his knife at it again. Unfazed by his threats, it approached him.

He held his breath, the knife trembling in his hand, as the wolf circled him a few times. As it neared the end of its final lap around him, its tail brushed against him. The coldness of it pierced through his jacket and sent a violent shiver up his spine.

It left his side and began stalking off in a random direction. Once it was a few yards away, it stopped short and looked back at him expectantly. Jack stayed frozen in place, staring at it in awe.

The wolf then shifted its gaze up to Ace and held eye contact with the horse for a moment before turning around and walking away again. Suddenly, Ace left Jack’s side and began trotting after the wolf.

“Hey!” he shouted after the horse, breaking out of his stupor. “Woah!”

The horse ignored him.

Jack sheathed his knife, stumbled up to his knees, and shoved his fingers in his mouth, sending a piercing whistle echoing through the trees. But that too went ignored as Ace followed the wolf into the thick shrubbery. Cursing, he picked up his rifle and jumped to his feet.

He chased after the horse, stray tree branches and bushes thwacking against his limbs as he struggled to keep up. The wolf was several yards ahead of them, walking briskly with its nose to the ground. They ran him all the way down to the river and into an area of the forest he’d never been in before.

It felt like forever before the horse finally ground to a sudden stop, allowing him to catch up. His chest was burning.

Panting, Jack grabbed onto the saddle and held it tightly in case the horse decided to take off again. “You idiot! What do you think you’re—” His voice caught in his throat when he glanced up.

They were now standing at the outside of a large, out-of-the-way clearing. And at the center of the clearing was a small herd of elk mulling around and grazing. Jack took his hands off the saddle. He could hardly believe what he was seeing.

He then noticed that the wolf had stopped too. It was sat right at the edge of the clearing, swishing its tail and twitching its ears as it watched the herd. Against his better judgement, Jack tiptoed towards it.

It didn’t react when he approached, and Jack’s heart raced as he moved to stand by its side. Too afraid to look at the animal, he kept his eyes forward, gluing them to the herd of elk in the distance.

He observed them for a moment, letting his rifle slip off of his shoulder as he sized them up. There were four of them that he could see— one standing out as being particularly massive. Maybe he’d be leaving with a decent haul after all.

But only because of that wolf….

He gathered up the courage to glance down to where it was sitting, only to find that it was gone. Jack spun in a circle, trying to figure out where it had run off to— he didn’t even hear it move— but there was no sign of it.

It had simply vanished.

———

He couldn’t stop thinking about it. Not while he took down and skinned a couple of the elk in the clearing. Not while he sold the pelts, antlers, and meat at Manzanita Post. Not now as he rode back home to Beecher’s Hope.

His mind was stuck on that wolf. Its gaze was so purposeful, as was its path to that clearing full of elk. It was almost as if it knew what Jack was looking for and was trying to help him. But that sounded ridiculous.

It vaguely reminded him of the strange encounter he’d had with that buck before Bonnie found him. He had chosen to write that off as a drunken hallucination and push it out of his mind, despite evidence to the contrary. But he couldn’t even attempt to do that this time; he was stone-cold sober.

He couldn’t explain any of it away, and that was frightening. All he could do was try to ignore it and hope that it wouldn’t happen again lest he be driven insane.

He arrived home right on time— no more than fifteen minutes before he needed to take Lilly into town— and headed straight for the door. He didn’t bother hitching his horse since he knew he’d be right back out.

His footsteps were heavy against the wooden floor as he reentered the house. He immediately spotted Lilly in the dining room, wiping down the table. He walked over to her, and she glanced up and smiled at him.

“There you are.” She chuckled and nodded at the clock on the wall. “Cuttin’ it a little close, aren’t you?”

He mumbled, “Sorry, it took a while.”

Her smile faltered, and she straightened up, tossing her rag over her shoulder. “Everything okay?” she asked, wiping her hands off on her skirt. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

He suppressed a sigh. Every damn time— she always knew when there was something wrong with him. Was he really that transparent?

“Yeah,” he said with a tight-lipped smile. “Everything’s fine.”

She put a hand on her hip. “Are you sure? Last time you said that, the cops came bangin’ on the door.”

“Ain’t nothin’ like that,” he assured her. “I just… saw something creepy in the woods, and I’m being a baby about it.”

“What was it?”

He hesitated before answering, “Just a wolf that was actin’ kinda funny. I think it must’ve been… sick in the head or something.”

Her face sobered. “Did it try to hurt you?”

“No, it didn’t.”

She sighed in relief, and the smile returned to her face. “Good.”

“It was just weird. It ain’t really all that important.” Jack took his hat off and tossed it onto the table before pulling out a chair and sitting down. Running his fingers through his hair, he asked, “Anything happen here while I was gone?”

“No, not really,” Lilly said. “Though I did find something interesting while I was cleanin’….”

“What?”

She responded by turning around and making the short walk to the coffee table in the living room. There, she picked up a small stack of papers before spinning around and returning to him. She set the papers on the table and slid them towards him.

Jack knew what it was the second he laid eyes on it, and his face burned with embarrassment. It was an unfinished short story that he had written a few years ago; its pages were wrinkled from when he had tried to throw it away after his father died.

His mother had fished it out of the trash the following day and demanded that Jack read it to her, which he begrudgingly did. She loved it and scolded him for trying to throw it out, and then scolded him again when he insisted that it was terrible and deserved to be thrown out.

Lilly tapped the corner of the front page, bringing him back to the present. “Did you write this?”

“No,” he lied, the defensiveness in his voice betraying him.

“But it’s your handwriting.”

“So? Doesn’t mean I wrote it.”

“Jack.” She sat down in the chair diagonal from him and leaned forward against the table, giving him a look of amused disbelief. “Really?”

He glanced away and groaned. “Fine, I wrote it,” he admitted. “But it was a long time ago— a few years ago. I know it’s terrible; you don’t have to—”

“Hey,” she cut him off and put a hand on his forearm. “Take it easy. I wasn’t tryin’ to rag on you for it. I’m not going to rag on you for it.”

“You’re not?”

“No. I thought it was good— minus the fact that it doesn’t have an ending.”

He tsked. “You got poor taste then.”

“Stop it, I do not.” She slapped her free hand down on the paper. “It’s good. It’s—”

“Silly,” he finished for her. “It’s silly.”

She shook her head, crossed her arms, and leaned back in her chair. Switching tactics, she asked, “When’s the last time you read through it?”

“I don’t need to read it to know it ain’t good. I wrote it. I spent more time starin’ at it than anyone.”

She let out an exasperated sigh. “If you would just—”

“Are we really gonna argue about this?” Jack asked, growing annoyed. “What do you want from me?”

Lilly put her palms up and in a lower voice said, “I’m not arguing.” She clasped her hands together and gave him a sheepish smile. “I was just hoping you’d want to finish it for me. Bad or not— which it’s not— I’d still like to know how it ends.”

He breathed out a sound somewhere in between a groan and a sigh. “Do you have a pen?”

She perked up, raising her eyebrows as if she were shocked that he was actually entertaining the idea. “I do,” she said as she reached into her pocket to pull the pen out.

Jack put his hand out for her to give it to him, and she placed it in his palm. He looked down at the stack of papers and flipped it over, honing in on the empty space at the bottom of the final page.

“Wait, you’re gonna do it right now?” Lilly asked.

He nodded.

“Why? I’m gettin’ kinda suspicious now.”

Shrugging, he pressed the pen to the page. He couldn’t remember how his sixteen-year-old self had intended for the story to end, but it didn’t matter. He’d already decided what he was going to write, and Lilly was right to be suspicious.

He scribbled down a ridiculous couple of sentences wherein the main character suddenly died in an outrageous way that didn’t fit the story at all. When he finished, he tossed the pen onto the table and slid the stack of papers over to her. Lilly narrowed her eyes at him before picking them up to read what he’d written.

After reading it, she set the story down and stared blankly at it for a moment. Then, she broke out into a laugh, and the sweet sound melted away the last remnants of irritation he felt.

“Alright,” she said in between chuckles. “Well, that’s just rude.”

A smile tugged at the corners of his lips, and he put his hand over his mouth to cover it. “It’s finished,” he said. “We can stop talkin’ about it now.”

Her amusement dying down, Lilly sighed. “Well, at least it was a creative ending. Never would’ve seen that twist comin’. I think you did misspell ‘incinerated’ though.”

“Oh, shut up,” he mumbled, scooting away from the table and standing up. “What time is it? Don’t we need to leave?”

She frowned at the clock then moved to stand up herself. “Yes, I guess we do. We can continue this conversation later.”

“I’d prefer we didn’t,” he murmured, putting his hat back on.

Snickering, she pulled the rag off her shoulder and threw it on the table. “C’mon,” she said with a nod at the door.

“Wait. Here.” Jack dug into his satchel and pulled out the folded-up cash that he’d gotten from selling the elk. Handing it to Lilly, he explained, “If you can find the time when you’re in town, it’d help if you could pick up some of the supplies we need.”

She took the money and stuffed it into her pocket. “What do we need?”

“I can tell you on the way.” He extended an arm towards the door, gesturing for her to go first.

Lilly nodded, and they made their way out of the house together.

———

They stopped a short walk from the outskirts of Blackwater. Jack didn’t want to go any farther, given the recent developments with the bureau. It wouldn’t look good to show up in town just days after Lilly told them he was over a thousand miles away.

Lilly hugged him from behind, thanking him for the ride, before hopping off the back of his horse on her own.

“I’ll meet you back here tonight at two,” Jack said, watching as she smoothed out her wrinkled skirt.

She smiled at him and nodded. “Got it. I’ll see you then.”

She gave his horse a quick pat on the neck and waved goodbye to him before turning and starting her trek into town.

“You be careful out there,” he called after her, mimicking the exact tone she’d used when she said the same to him that morning.

Lilly paused then spun around on her heel. Visibly fighting back a grin, she narrowed her eyes at him and stuck her chin out. “I will.”

“Good.”

She snickered and shook her head as she turned back around. “Bastard,” she mumbled, just loud enough for him to hear.

He laughed and watched her walk down the road, a slight skip in her step.

———

Jack went straight back home after dropping her off and immediately buried himself in the remaining chores that needed to be done for the day. Most of his time was spent chopping firewood. He told himself that they needed it because it was getting cold, but really, he just enjoyed the opportunity to take all of the week’s frustration out on the wood.

He turned in when the sun set and sat down in the living room, looking around, twiddling his thumbs, and trying to keep his thoughts from wandering.

The place was looking a lot nicer since it had been cleaned— a lot more like the home he remembered. The dust that had once coated everything was gone, and all of the little knick-knacks around the fireplace were straightened up.

But what stood out to him above all else was his parents’ portrait. The gold-lined frame that encased it was shining like it was new— it was clear that Lilly had taken a great deal more care in cleaning it than the objects surrounding it. And that compassionate attention to detail warmed his heart.

He stood up and approached it for a closer look. Without the dust obscuring the photograph, the smaller details in it became more apparent. There was a quirk in his mother’s lips, an expression she’d often make when holding back laughter. His father wore the ghost of a smirk, his shrewd, smokey eyes staring right into the camera— right at Jack.

Jack furrowed his eyebrows. Those eyes. So eerily similar to the ones that had scrutinized him in the forest that morning, the ones attached to that wolf. He shivered and stepped backwards, nearly tumbling over the coffee table behind him.

After regaining his balance, he glanced back up at the photo and scoffed at his ridiculousness. His mind was so desperate to make sense of that sick, crazy wolf that he was seeing things that weren’t there. He shook his head. You’ve really lost it now, Marston.

Rubbing his eyes, he turned his back on the portrait and strolled into the dining room. He needed to get away from it— and more importantly, needed to find something to distract him before he started spiraling his way into a padded cell.

He wished Lilly didn’t have to go to work; her absence reminded him how much he loathed being alone in that house. It was too quiet.

He rested his palms on the dining room table and leaned against it, scowling when his eyes grazed the old stack of papers still sitting there. Speaking of Lilly, he ought to throw that stupid story out before she had the chance to torture him over it some more.

Jack grabbed the pages, wrinkling them in the middle, and swiped them off the table. He started for the trash can in the kitchen but stopped short when he remembered how well throwing it in there had worked out the first time. He certainly wouldn’t put it above Lilly to pull it out of the trash like his mother had.

So he shifted course and went into his bedroom, intending to toss it in a bucket in the corner and forget about it. He didn’t have to worry about it being found in there; Lilly never went into his room.

As far as he knew….

Upon further consideration, he opted to tear it into pieces— just to be sure that it was gone and would never resurface.

But as he made the first tear in the corner of the page, he was struck by a wave of guilt that made him freeze. He stared sadly at the disjointed scraps of paper in his hands, suddenly wishing he could fuse them back together.

As bad as that story was, his mother had loved it— enough that she had kept it safely tucked away for all those years. He could still remember the pride on her face as he read it aloud to her, though he’d refused to acknowledge it at the time. In fact, that moment may have been the only time he ever saw a genuine smile on her face after his father died.

His little story had meant so much to her, yet there he was, trying to destroy it.

Sighing, he sat down at his desk and set the stack of papers down. He slid the torn corner back in place, carefully realigning the words so he could read them.

As he read through the first portion of the story, he was puzzled to find that he barely recognized it at all. It wasn’t as boring— or as silly— as he remembered. The phrasing wasn’t as awkward, the characters not as insufferable….

Who the hell wrote this?

Jack found it hard to believe that he had, despite his clear memory of the hours he’d spent hunched over that desk with a pen in his hand.

He continued to read, waiting for the story to morph into the terrible mess he’d convinced himself it was— waiting for his hatred of it to be justified. But it never was.

That was, until the very end. He frowned when the ridiculous couple of sentences he’d written earlier smacked him across the face. They left a bitter taste in his mouth, and he felt… incomplete as he stared at them. And he had misspelled incinerated….

Without hesitation, he shook his head, picked up a pen, and scratched the words out.

Surely he could come up with something better.

#jack marston #adult jack marston #my writing #//my blessed son

8 notes · View notes

buckyshusband0 · 3 years ago

Text

ᴏᴜʀ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴅᴏᴠᴇ

Requested: Yes or No

Summary: During a mission, Steve and Bucky didn’t expect to fall deeply in love with such a beautiful male. This toxic love has driven Steve and Bucky to do the unthinkable. How far will this love change Steve’s and Bucky’s lives?

Pairing: Yandere!Stucky x Male Reader

Word count: 3.4k+ // any mistakes I own

Warnings: +18, Fluff, Angst, Smut (Non-Con), unprotected sex, obsession, murder, love at first sight, daddy/sir kink, choking, abuse, biting, rough sex, (light) bondage, possessive behavior, dark!Stucky, kidnapping, stalking, manipulating, mature themes.

A/N: I finally got a Yandere!Stucky fic so woohoo!! This shit got real dark so please read with caution. I’m not responsible for what you read online. Anyways, enjoy my loves !! Reblogs and comments are appreciated💙!!

₊˚ˑ༄ؘ MASTERLIST | TAGLIST

“ROGERS!” Captain America, Steve Rogers, heard one of his teammates scream out his name. His blue-eyed attention was drawn to the brunettes. He noticed Tony Stark approaching him.

The brunette stopped his — fast motions — and threw what seemed to be a new file report to Steve. He raised his eyebrow at the man standing in front of him, confused as ever. Tony parted his lips to say something. “You and Barnes have a new mission.” He informed.

Steve took the file in his scuffed hands and studied it. He hummed as he read the — not very dangerous — material. "All right, when do we leave?" Steve puzzled him. Tony replied to the blue-eyed man.

"Tonight."

Steve nodded, setting his gaze on the brunette who was now leaving the room. “Oh, and Rogers?” “Yes, Tony?” Tony — slightly — smirked to himself before replying. “Give me a call if you find a pretty little dame.” Steve rolled his eyes at Tony before leaving.

The six-foot man stood up from his seat and made his way to his best friend’s room. James ‘Bucky’ Barnes. He moved his hand from his warm pocket and laid a small knock on the metal door.

“It’s open!” Steve heard the other male yell from the other side of the door. Without another thought, he opened the door and was greeted with a shirtless Bucky who had just left a nice warm shower. “Hey, Stevie.” Bucky gave a small smile to the icy blue-eyed man.

“Hey, Buck. Uh, we have a mission. Tonight actually. So, get dressed and meet me in the quinjet.” Steve told Bucky while looking around the — old fashioned — theme of a room his best friend had.

“What’s the mission about?” Bucky’s icy blue eyes connected with Steve’s ones while asking for this untold information. Steve then realized he hadn’t shown the file. So, without further question — he passed the file to Bucky.

Bucky went over the details of the mission that Steve and he had been assigned. He told Steve he'd be ready in a few minutes, and he delivered. He changed into an all-black ensemble. They immediately boarded the quinjet. Leaving without looking back.

-- -- --- --- -- --

The mission was simple.

Retrieve the data containing information on a potential — new looming threat — to the Avengers and, more importantly, the entire globe. The only drawback to this assignment was that the hitmen had kidnapped a group of completely innocent people.

One of those innocent people being you. Steve and Bucky lowered their bodies in the bush as they watched the group of — most likely — rich hitmen. Bucky let out a deep needed sigh, losing his patience.

“Steve, when do you think we'll be able to go inside?" Bucky lightly tapped Steve on the shoulder, jolting the icy blue-eyed man out of his deliberations. "You have to be patient, Buck," Steve says. "We need to retrieve the files while avoiding detection," Steve added to his best pal, who rolled his dark eyes.

With time, Steve could tell that it was finally safe to leave. He informed Bucky that the mission had begun and that they had been successful in rescuing the other civilians. Bucky clenched his grasp on his gun's handle and shifted his gaze from left to right.

A couple of hitmen surrounded the civilians who were being targeted. Before sneaking up on one of the males, Steve lets out a — heavy huff — before he launched a powerful strike to the man's head before he could fight back.

"That'll leave a mark." Bucky laughs heartily at his pal's antics. Minute after minute, the two guys had finally dispatched every single assassin who was bound to cause trouble. They searched and searched for the civilians and finally set their gazes on them.

A group of people were tied tightly to a — run-down — cement wall. The wall held a few rough patches with a metal bar that supported the cuffs that were locked around each person’s wrist.

Each person had tape covering their mouth. Their wrists were red and swollen from the tightness of the cuffs that locked them to the metal bar. Muffles coming from their — covered — mouths, begging to be freed from their kidnappers.

Steve and Bucky examined the condition the civilians were in before grasping the cuffs in their rough hands and ordering the now—freed people — to make their way to the exit. There was one more male who was still locked in the surprisingly well-conditioned cuffs.

Fuck —

They had never seen beauty like yours before. Thousands of vibrations and butterflies were sent through the soldiers' stomachs by the way your helpless (e/c) eyes looked at them. The way your (h/c) hair would flow over your forehead as a result of the sweat induced by the sweltering weather.

Bucky slowly — but surely — took the tape off your plump lips. His breath hitched from the scent that illumed around the air that came from your smaller framed body. His eyes connect with yours.

“T-Thank you so much!” Steve and Bucky’s eyes widen from the angelic-like voice that flew out of your lips. The way your voice sang to them like the angel themselves. Heaven was all that the soldiers heard.

They then realize their lips were parted for way too long, so Steve was the one who finally decided to speak. “We’re just doing our job...?” You noticed that Captain America was asking for your name. “(y/n).. my name is (y/n).” You beamed a huge smile at the two men.

The two soldiers took notes — mental notes — of the smaller male’s name. Knowing they’ll need it for later use. Bucky’s blue eyes were filled with a look he hasn’t felt since the 40′s.

Love.

If you hadn't been there, Steve and Bucky would have done flips and kicked their legs like a five-year-old. The sensation of love filled their formerly — empty and black — stomachs.

To be abandoning a defenseless, beautiful angel in a world full of dangers that could harm him.

You took a huge step towards the exit. Before leaving, you turned around to face the two soldiers and parted your lips. “Thank you again. Captain America and James.” One thing went through the soldier’s minds and one thing only. You were going to be theirs.

-- -- --- --- -- --

The ride back to the compound was quiet.

Steve and Bucky hadn’t spoken a word during the whole way back to the compound. Their minds were too busy being corrupted by the male who went by the beautiful name of (y/n).

Your scent, your beautiful (e/c) eyes, the (h/c) hair that was placed beautifully on your head, the way your (s/c) skin shined through the darkness that overflowed the room. Everything that was on you was perfect. You were perfect. Like an artist who painted a masterpiece.

When the soldiers marched into Steve’s — antic room — they instantly put their bags down and sat on the bed. Bucky’s chin was laid onto his cold knuckles. He let out a heavy huff before saying —

“Steve, you know what I’m thinking right?” Steve nodded slowly at his best friend’s words. Knowing exactly what he was thinking. “He was the most beautiful boy I’ve ever seen,” Steve said in a prideful tone. “Breathtaking really,” Steve added on to what he said.

Bucky’s stomach did flips again just from the thought of you and your perfect smile. “We need to make sure he’s safe. An angel like him needs to be protected from the harmful dangers in this world.”

Steve agreed. “So, it’s official. We want — no, we need (y/n) in our life. He needs to be ours.” What Steve said was not said in a regular tone. It was stated with a possessive tone.

How could one man who was sure enough too innocent and perfect for the world, have a chokehold on Captain America and the man who had one flesh and one metal arm?

They needed you. They wanted you. They needed to protect you. That was all that went through the six-foot soldiers’ minds. Even if they wanted to sleep, they couldn’t. Because the only thing that fed their brains was you. Feeding off the little parts of their brains.

-- -- --- --- -- --

The branches creaked as twigs snapped.

The two soldiers were now watching you. Claiming that they needed to keep you “safe” from the dangers that ruled over this forsaken world. A beauty like yours is too innocent for anyone’s eyes to see.

So, A way that Steve and Bucky made sure you were safe and protected, was by finding your address and watching you. Watching you with their dark and loved-filled eyes. They always made sure to carry a small notebook around, taking notes of what you do in your life.

Some say these actions were creepy. But is it really creepy to watch someone you truly love so they’re always safe? The correct answer is no — well, in Steve and Bucky’s eyes the answer was no.

They had figured out what you like. What you dislike. Your favorite food and show/movie. Every. Single. Fucking. Thing they took notes of. Slowly waiting for the right moment to take what was theirs and only theirs. Was it right for Captain America to do this?

No. And he sure of knew it was wrong too. But the special name he had been given to protect this country didn’t matter to him or his best friend when it came to you. (y/n) (y/m/n) (y/l/n).

When you were out of the house, buying groceries, the two soldiers took that as a chance to plant a bug inside of your — modern type — home. Listening to every moment and call you made. But today? Something caught the soldiers’ ears when they heard —

“Yeah of course I can go out.” You chuckled at your friend who was on the other side of the phone. But of course, Steve and Bucky thought the worst and felt as if someone claimed what was theirs already.

That has to change.

"The bar? I can meet you there later tonight." In a sing-song tone, you said. Smiling. All that ran through Steve and Bucky's veins was envy. Their blood became cold. The grip was turning their knuckles white. Darkening eyes, filled with rage. The color of their necks changed. Whomever it was —

— Had to go.

They connected their blue-eyed gazes and gave each other a look only they would understand. There wasn’t a second thought that ran through the soldiers’ minds. One thought and one thought only planted its way to their brains. Follow you to the bar.

-- -- --- --- -- --

The smell of vodka took over the bar.

As many yelled "cheers!" the noises of glass crashing against glass could be heard. You were out with some pals who had asked you to a bar. One of them had gotten into their dream school.

Words and hellos were exchanged by each friend towards you. Your smile never leaving your face. But of course, Steve and Bucky had shown up at the bar also. They had to wear a baseball cap with their heads down. They didn’t want to risk getting caught.

“Shots anyone?!” Yelled Kyra over the loud booming music that filled the bar. “Hell yeah!” You called out. She poured a couple of shots of vodka and gave each one to the belonging person. You all cheered, getting drunk as ever from a couple of more shots.

Steve and Bucky carefully watched over you. Making sure no one did anything to what was theirs. That was until a man whose hair was black as coal walked towards you. The soldier’s eyes squinted from watching him closely.

“Hey there beautiful, what would you think of someone buying you a drink?” The grey-eyed man asked you. “Mmm, it depends. Who is this someone?” You slurred in a flirtatious tone. He gave you a million-dollar smile as he asked the bartender for two shots.

You both took the shot, the bitterness taste burning your throat. “Would you like to dance with me beautiful?” He raised his eyebrow and held his hand out for you. Hoping you would take it.

“Don’t do it (y/n),” Bucky spoke under his heaving breath. The serum had its pros. One of those pros is enhanced hearing. Somehow the two super soldiers heard your conversation with the grey-eyed man over the hectic music. Hoping you wouldn’t take his and —

— Shit.

You grasped the man's hand in yours and squeezed it tightly. You're standing up but trembling due to your drunkenness. You were escorted to the dance floor by him. The song "Na Na" started playing in the bar all of a sudden. Your hips swing in response to the man's grip on them. Slowly, his lips pressed kisses against your neck.

Let’s just say, Steve and Bucky didn’t like this. They felt anger build up in their veins as the man was touching what was theirs. Thoughts — murderous thoughts ran through their minds.

They were definitely going to teach the grey-eyed man not to touch what was theirs. Not to talk about what was theirs. Not to even look at what was theirs. Their jaws clenched; eyes darken from seeing the man gripping your ass like a damn remote.

The song stopped. The man pecked a kiss on your neck before whispering — “I have to go use the restroom beautiful. I’ll be back. I promise~” You whined from the lost contact of the handsome man but nodded.

You made your way back to your friends. Slowly taking another shot. Steve and Bucky noticed the man walking towards the restroom. They gave each other a quick glance before getting up from their now—warm seats.

The grey-eyed man unzipped his pants as he let out a heavy huff from the release. Steve and Bucky entered the restroom, locking the door behind them. They looked into the mirror, a sly smirk growing on their tented faces.

“You know — you shouldn’t be touching what’s ours,” Steve said calmly. The man zipped his pants up, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion by what the dirty blonde had said to him.

“What?” He puzzled Steve. “That boy you were dancing with, touching on. He’s ours. I really don’t like to repeat myself. So, stay away from him — or else.” The grey-eyed man let out a deep chuckle at the words Steve had spoken. “Or else what? He’s not yours.”

That was one huge mistake pal.

Steve nodded slowly to his best friend before slamming him against the rough wall. He let out a wince from the pain in his shoulders. Bucky set his grasp onto a knife that was planted on his belt.

Handing it to Steve. “See, this is for touching him — “ Steve pushed the man’s hand onto the wall, panic flew through his veins as Steve was bringing the knife towards his fingers.

“P-Please don’t.” The man cried out like a fucking pussy. He should’ve known not to touch what belonged to Steve and Bucky. Steve gave a dark smile before slicing into the man’s fingers. Cutting them off. One by one.

Even if he wanted to scream, he couldn’t. Bucky held his cold metal hand over his mouth. Muffling each and every sound that dared to escape the man’s — now dried lips — Tears brimming into his eyes. “And this is for looking at him — “ He backed away.

Bucky used his metal thumb to press against the man’s eyelids. Slowly crushing his eyes until blood was the only thing that escaped from the man’s face. Bucky chuckled at the view of the now-dead man.

They used Stark’s tech — which they stole — to hide and clean any evidence of a murder scene. They washed their hands until their victim’s blood washed off. The feeling of murdering someone for your love excited the soldiers somehow. Too much excitement.

You let out a — sad and rough — sigh as the man didn’t return. You had knocked on the door, but it was locked. You decided to end the night out and told your friends you were heading home. Before you could leave, of course, Steve and Bucky had to beat you there first.

Their plan was now in motion.

-- -- --- --- -- --

The rattling sound of keys went through your ears.

You threw the keys in the bowl — well, you thought you did. In your drunken state, you didn’t know what you were doing as of right now. The set of keys hit the ground as you entered.

When you switched the light switch, the darkness in your house vanished. Two large silhouettes sat down on the couch, something you hadn't expected. You thought you were seeing things — yet again. You saw Captain America and his best friend as you tumbled your way to the bodies.

“C-Captain?” You questioned, not being so sure if your mind was playing tricks on you. He smiled and raised his body from the grey couch. “(y/n), our angel. You have been out here in this dangerous world alone for too long. It’s time you come with us.” He smiled again.

Your (e/c) eyed gaze fell on Bucky before you could part your lips. He had given you a medication injection. Before you passed out, the two soldiers were the last thing you saw.

Steve and Bucky carried you into their car. Driving at a fast paste. They brought you to a private safe house they ended up buying just for you. Their angel. Their perfect beautiful boy. Everything they did was for you. For your love.

They brought you up into the bedroom they — decorated especially — for you. “Buck bring me the cuffs,” Steve announced as he laid you down gently. Bucky didn’t think anything of it and brought his best friend a pair of handcuffs. He grabbed your wrist. Locking them in.

As he observed a swelling bulge in your pants, Steve pecked a kiss on your plump lips. He smirked and gave Bucky a sidelong glance. He slowly snatched your pants from the waistband and yanked them off. You were startled awake by the uninviting touch.

(!DESCRIPTIVE RAPE WARNING!)

“W-What are you... doing? S-Stop.” You slurred your words out. “Shh, it’s okay doll. Let us take care of you.” Bucky smiled as he pushed your body into the bed more. They both unzipped their pants as they felt their cocks grow from the view of their angel.

Such a sweet soul they have to claim as theirs. You begged and begged for the soldiers to stop. But they wouldn’t listen. Steve spit on his fingers, lubing them. He stroked his cock in his hand as Bucky pecked kisses all over your neck.

“P-Please, stop.” You cried out as you felt something enter you. Your eyes wince at the uninviting feeling of Steve’s cock in your hole. “Fuck-- you’re so tight angel~” Steve let out a dark moan from the tightness of your walls clenching around his cock.

Bucky takes some skin into his mouth. Making sure to leave hickeys and let everyone know that you’re theirs. Only theirs. Steve’s eyes rolled back as he felt his release rising in. “F-Fuck, I’m going to cum. I’m going to cum so much in you baby boy~” Steve grunted as he grabbed your hips in his rough hands.

Muffled cries were the only thing you could let out as Bucky kissed your lips. Stroking your cock with his flesh hand. Steve let out a low dark moan as he shot hot sticky white ropes of cum into your hole. Marking you as theirs.

“Such a good boy for daddy~” Bucky whispered into your ear as Steve pulled his cock out of your now—soaked ass. Bucky turned you around and massaged your cheeks in his metal and fleshed hands.

Spanking them. You whine at the pain as your face — which was drenched with tears — hid in the pillow. Bucky played with Steve’s cum with his tip before thrusting his hips inside of you. His best friend’s cum making it easy to thrust his rather rough movements in you.

“You’re so fucking perfect doll. Fuck--” Bucky moaned as his thrust began to falter. The overwhelming feeling of your soaked hole swallowing his cock whole. His breathing became rapid.

Steve got up from the bed after seeing his best friend shoot his hot load inside of you. Both of the soldiers’ cum leaking out of your abused hole. They laid you in the middle as they both cuddle with your shaking body. Whispering nothing but “good” stuff.

“You’re ours (y/n). Ours.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

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tteokdoroki · 4 years ago

Text

had it | k.bakugou.

♡ pairing: katsuki bakugou x fem!reader.

♡ word count: 4.5K

♡ rating: everyone.

♡ genre: pro hero!au, married!au, fluff, comfort.

♡ summary: your pro hero husband is a show off, always has and always will be... but when his big ego gets in the way of you doing your job, you give him little piece of your mind..

♡ warning(s): please read ! mentions of violence, i gave reader a quirk?? bakugou with a daughter ok literally nothing. oh and angst if you squint.

♡ author’s note(s): hi besties!! happy birthday to meee!! today i’m dropping a fic that’s been a long time coming, its a short and fluffy little piece with domestic baku bc i love him with babies n kids ok ok!! i hope you all have a lovely day <3

♡ masterlist | requests | kofi

some say that working for a pro hero is an honour, no matter what the position is. some may work behind the scenes— creating gear and suits that support the pros protecting their cities or livelihoods. others are in charge of things like reports, PR and even physical health. everyone plays an important role in a hero's career. there’s never a dull moment working in a team supporting the pros, especially if that pro was dynamight.

the offices for katsuki bakugou’s hero agency were always buzzing; usually because the clean up team were rushing through with stacks upon stacks of receipts and paperwork from the damage done during bakugou’s patrols— other times it would be his secretaries gossiping about how good he looks in his winter costume because damn did that tight black shirt do his arms justice but usually it was just because of the PR team contacting media outlets with excuses for bakugou’s potty mouth.

working for the hot headed blonde was more laid back than it seemed however, the man himself was rarely ever in the office as the number two hero but out on missions instead, the pay was pretty decent and no one ever really faced his angry wrath nor his sailor like mouth unless they had royally fucked up on their job. katsuki bakugou was someone to admire, he never gave a damn about what people had to say about him— he only cared about getting the job done and maybe that’s why most people enjoyed their time under the dynamight agency.

particularly this time, right around noon.

the doors to the floor of the secretary offices fly open, crashing loudly against the walls and drawing the staff from their daily work. this office space is around ten floors up and somehow you’ve made it in record time today. “where is he?” your voice crawls through the entrance of the room, settling over the workers like a thick fog— commanding, menacing and soft all at the same time. newbies cower in their boots, confused at what’s going on and it’s safe to presume those who have been working here for years have yet to give them the run down. “don’t make me ask again.” you add, eyes darkening as you cast your gaze across the room.

an intern approaches you, visibly shaking with fear which makes you loosen your stance and raise an eyebrow toward them. “he-uh... he just went for his lunch break—“ the stutter, gulping under the stare of another highly ranked pro hero. “in his...office— ma’am!” they stumble through their words, hiding behind the ungodly amount of paperwork that's been dumped into their hands. you make a mental note to chew bakugou out on the load his interns have been getting as well as your prior reasons for coming to his agency.

nonetheless you shake your head and drop the frown, a sweet smile quickly replacing the look that could put anyone six feet under if you really tried. with a tap to the side of your head, the visor to your hero costume rises above your eyes— allowing you to give the poor little intern a cheeky wink as thanks. “‘ppreciate it darling, have a good one!” you thank them properly with a ruffle to their hair, resuming your previous stance as you march the rest of the way through the office and kick open the door at the end of the room.

the intern sags, a whimper of relief passing from tired lips while they wipe at the sweat forming on their brow. they’d not even encountered their boss yet and they’d already come face to face with a top pro hero. “w-what’s her deal?”

a chuckle to the left of the poor kid startles them out of their mind; but they relax upon realising it’s just another one of dynamight’s secretaries— haruto, who’d apparently been working at the agency since it started up. “that’s nightsky, her quirk is lullaby, which allows her to control certain people if she hits the right note. she can also put them to sleep, if she really wants to,” the intern now perks up, remembering you from countless interviews on tv. you ranked pretty highly too, managing to the reach the top five this year along with others like shoto and deku. “she owns the hero agency across the street, herself and dynamight have been going at it ever since. it’s like they’re elderly lovers or somethin‘.”

“d-do you think they are? lovers like you say?” the intern asks a little too excitedly, touching at their messy hair from where you’d ruffled it. a crimson blush warms their cheeks, the idea of two pros playing enemies to the public eye but being lovers in secret seemed like something right out of a romance novel. how romantic.

haruto only chuckles at the newbie, standing to ruffle their hair as well before heading over to the coffee stand to fix himself a cup. “beats me,” he mumbles cheerily as he walks away, arms crossed behind his head. “but with the way yn bursts in here at the same time everyday to scold bakugou, and leaves with a huge smile on her face— i wouldn’t put it past them. they probably have a whole life together.” he taps his nose once as if he’s given away too much information, turning away without a word.

the intern hums, seemingly happy with their superior’s answer and easily heads back to work from there.

katsuki bakugou was bored out of his mind.

being a successful pro hero was all he’d ever wanted— being the number two pro hero just came with that. bakugou wanted to get to the top and show everyone he was the best of the best and with him being blessed with a powerful quirk there was no way he couldn’t be where he was today. yet, now that he’d finally achieved his dream all he wanted was a fucking break. the blonde stares down at his microwaveable bowl of home cooked stew, a frown cutting deep into his cheeks. it was his lunch break for crying out loud, but instead of scarfing down the delicious meal before him, the hero was forced to watch it cool as some dumb fuck reporter asked him questions over the phone.

the telephone interview ( or a waste of his fucking time, as katsuki had called it ) , had been set up by his PR team right after he’d taken down a couple low level villains downtown earlier this morning. katsuki had called it nothing but apparently the whole world and their mother had been on his ass, watching as he took the criminals down with ease and raving about how glorious dynamight was during that fight. the reporter drones on about said event, asking the same old questions and it takes everything within the hot headed pro not to blow a casket— he’d been promised a few extra days off from his manager if he could finish the interview without blowing something up and only god knew how much katsuki needed a break from dumb paps and some overly obsessive fans.

‘so, final question, how does it feel to be the number two?’

bakugou grunts, buying himself time to formulate an answer. what he really wants to do is kindly tell the reporter to fuck off and ask more original questions; but with the prize of a longer weekend hanging in the balance he bites his tongue for the sake of freedom. “well i—“

“katsuki bakugou.” your voice cuts through his sentence before he can finish, vermillion eyes land on your hero costume clad form as you burst into his office. a lazy smirk now decorates the hero’s lips, brow quirked with piqued interest. “i have a bone to pick with you, you motherfucker.”

the reporter on the other end falls silent as katsuki watches you, leaning back in his plush leather chair. you look slightly disheveled, costume torn in a few places, scrapes littering your skin as you pant heavily from exertion— chest rising and falling with every breath, it seems ragged and bakugou makes a mental note to remind you to get your ribs checked out later. “you’re late, shitty woman.” the number two sits up a little straighter as you enter the room, leaning up to look at you while you slam your hands down on the smooth marble desk— the force rattling the items he has neatly placed on it.

‘uh-? mister...dynamight-? sir?’

your eyes sweep the room while the pro before you deals with the reporter, mentioning to her that they’ll have to continue their call later. in the meantime, you note that katsuki’s office is meticulously clean, not a single book, folder or pen out of place— it’s high up with a perfect view of the city and the large windows allow golden beams of the sun to light up the room. the sound of a phone being placed back on its hook brings you from your thoughts; annoyance settling deep in your veins as you turn to face bakugou again.

“i had it,” you growl lowly, jumping the gun before he can even register what you’ve said. “i’m a grown woman, katsuki, i can handle a couple of criminals myself, you know.”

the blasting hero does nothing but smirk even wider at the irked tone that litters your voice, standing up as well to tower over you. bakugou still wears his own hero costume, considerably in less damage than yours— not a single tear had formed in his suit, mind the small scratches on his face no doubt from his stupid explosions creating some debris. leaning over the desk between you, bakugou uses a forefinger and thumb to tilt your head up, bringing you even closer than before. “clearly y’didn’t sweetheart, or otherwise that icyhot bastard wouldn’t have needed to back you up ‘fore i got there...” his timbre voice sends sparks of electricity through the air in the room, it’s low and gravelly which is enough to send shivers down your spine but you’re not about to let katsuki bakugou know that he makes you flustered— it’d go straight to his head, the cocky bastard.

nonetheless; you roll your eyes at the mention of your old classmate and fellow pro hero— shoto todoroki. yourself and shoto got along fairly well, even back in high school, so it was normal for you to work together from time to time; you both made a great team and your skill set complimented each other’s well. katsuki was just jealous. he never really got along with todoroki like that. “he didn’t back me up, we were working together,” you snap back at the blonde, shaking yourself from bakugou’s grasp and flicking him right between those alluring vermillion eyes. “something you might not be familiar with, mister number two.” bakugou backs away from you completely ( only wincing slightly ), making you smirk in victory. you’ve struck a nerve. deciding to leave the conversation at that, you turn to make your exit as he collapses back into his seat with a deathly scowl and a quiet ‘tch’. “like i said, i had it, dynamight. next time, don’t jump in uninvited.”

happy that you got the last laugh, you open the door to leave his office but pause when a wave of heat hits your back. you should have known, katsuki bakugou was never one to back down from a challenge and you certainly weren’t an exception. well shit. when you turn around to face the blonde, small explosions spark from his right hand and he has some what of a look of a feral pomeranian, blood red eyes full of rage.

you visibly gulp and katsuki growls out his next words with the upmost venom, designed to hurt and cut at your feelings. “well maybe y’sudda let the actual pros handle shit like this,” bakugou begins, voice rising in volume with every syllable that passes his lips. “we both know you’re no good at short distance attacks with your quirk, shitty woman, you couldn’t have taken those villains down without me.” the blonde finishes with a short ‘tsk’, settling the explosions that spark in his palms. now it’s your turn to be pissed. you could handle katsuki’s jealousy, his petty reasoning for joining you on your patrol and taking the credit but bashing you and your quirk? no way in hell would he get away with that.

“bakugou?”

“what? the fuck y’still here for?”

you roll your shoulders, gracing the blonde with a devilish smile as your eyes light up mischievously. “why are you hitting yourself, bakugou?” you sing, hitting just the right notes that will have him under your spell, the tone in your voice as smooth as chocolate. katsuki’s eyes widen in horror and before he can stop himself, his free hand comes up to slap him across the face. that was your quirk, lullaby. you had the ability to sing your way out of any situation— adjusting the tune of your song to control the actions of certain individuals or groups of people. it was near impossible to resist but the more people you used your quirk on, the weaker your control over them was. that doesn’t mean you weren’t going to use it on bakugou from time to time. the blonde tries to fight it, he really does, but he’s no use up against your ability— losing all control of his own body. he grunts on impact, looking bewildered for a moment as he moves to grab his own wrist to stop any impending blows. “not so cocky now, are we dynamight?”

“h-hey!” he stammers, refusing to accept defeat against you. “shitty woman, no fuckin’ fair. you know i can’t use my quirk against you in here.” he was right, while your quirk was poor against short distance attacks ( meaning you had to result to hand to hand combat ), bakugou couldn’t use his own in enclosed spaces without hurting anyone he didn’t want to. especially you, he would never hurt you intentionally unless you were sparring.

“shoulda thought about that before you decided to taunt me, you know better than to piss off your wife, katsu.” you chide, still smiling just as brightly as you were earlier, before taking a seat on his desk and folding one leg over the other. it was quite amusing to watch your husband of four years fight against himself— everyone knew katsuki had an unbelievable amount of strength even without his quirk so he was definitely beating himself up ( literally and figuratively ).

bakugou looks up at you through gritted teeth while he struggles to keep the wrist you have control of down and you almost feel bad for the guy. “turn it off, dammit!” he curses at you, said hand rising above his free one to tug at his own sun kissed locks.

feigning interest in the objects on your lover's desk, you ignore his pleas for you to release him from the holds of your quirk and hum “apologise.”

“f-fuck... fuck y-you.”

you sigh knowingly, picking up a hand crafted paperweight, covered in glitter and sequin stars, inspecting it carefully. bakugou could hardly ever say the word ‘sorry’, it was just in his nature and he’d been that way since you were young. part of you knows it’s because of how he was treated as a child where people praised him for his quirk. that meant he became prideful yes, thought highly of himself too and struggled to admit when others were right...but he had his own way of apologising— through actions instead of words.

like when you first moved in together and he had broken your favourite mug, instead of saying he was sorry, he spent all night super glueing it back together for you to use in the morning. to him, actions were louder than words but you right now; you were being mean and just wanted to hear him say it.

“fuck fuck, fine. alright. ‘m sorry.” bakugou lets out a strained growl as the hand you control gives a particularly hard yank to his hair. “i’m sorry for lying about your quirk. it’s not shitty…’n ‘m sorry for... barging in on your patrol. again.” you grin, satisfied with his answer and grab the hand he keeps down with his wrist. you press a simple kiss to the skin, making your husband blush as you release your hold over the limb. katsuki shyly yanks it from your grip, rubbing over the area that you’d kissed, shooting his gaze to the side in the process. “jesus shitty woman, if i don’t die from being a hero or of old fucking age, i know for a fact you’ll be the one to kill me first.” he mutters harshly under his breath, but you know he’s only kidding from the way his hands now fall to your thighs and his fingers rub small circles into the exposed skin.

“pro hero nightsky murders number two pro hero dynamight in cold blood!” you joke as if you’re reading a headline in a news article, katsuki only glares up at you— making no effort to curse you out because of your shitty joke, which causes you to frown while leaning forward to brush some of his hair away from his face. “you know i’m only kidding right? is something wrong? did i come at a bad time?”

it’s only now that you notice the exhausted expression that paints your lover’s face. he’s always up to playing this game with you, at the same time every day— you come to bother him about some trivial matter, tease him a bit and leave with a kiss. but today, you can tell he’s trying to hide something from you. something that bothers him.

bakugou shakes his head, leaning into your touch as you play with his hair— a habit he’d picked up from even before you started dating back in high school, although he’d never admit that to you if you’d asked. “nothin’, just this stupid fuckin’ interview the PR team want me to do about the fight today. the one i took from you,” your husband smirks slightly at the thought and you roll your eyes for what seems like the nine hundredth time that afternoon. “didn’t get to finish my fuckin’ lunch but they promised me a couple days off if i got the interview done.”

“better the number two than me, eh? but don’t worry, i’ll order us some take out tonight,” your suggest, voice coming out as soft and mingling with your slight giggle— a quiet melody to katsuki��s ears. your only reply from him is a grunt, so you stop your fingers in his hair and watch as he scowls up at you. you quickly press a kiss to the explosive hero’s lips, pulling away to reveal his blushing face. you smile, knowing that you’re the only one who can make him flush red like that. “there’s something else bothering you, isn’t there?”

if there’s one thing katsuki bakugou hates, it’s how you read him like an open book. one look at him and it’s like you know exactly how he’s feeling. he can never hide anything from you— sometimes that both pisses him off and reminds him of how much he is loved by you. he hesitates with his words at first but decides to confide in you anyway, knowing that you’ll get it out of him in one way or another. “‘m worried about you, dumbass.” he mumbles, nudging your hand with his head as if to ask you to continue your earlier actions. “i know you had it, yer fuckin’ powerful but you looked so tired in that fight today ‘n i thought something bad was gonna happen to you, y’fuckin’ shitty woman.”

he toys with the tears in your costume now, smoothing over scars from your bumps and scratches as a result of combat. “oh lovebug,” you mumble, cupping his cheeks to make him look up at you. “you know i can handle my own, they just took a lot out of me today. i promise i’ll—“

“that’s not it, fuck,” katsuki cuts you off, brows furrowing deeply as he grabs your wrists— pulling your from his desk and into his lap. he holds you close, burying his nose into your neck as if you’re going to disappear. you sit still, a little shocked by his actions and his quick change of mood, but wrap your arms around him anyway and slowly fall silent. “it's just that...we’re both pros now and at the top of our ranks ‘n we both have a lot to lose.” you instinctively cling tighter to katsuki, mind flickering to the homemade paperweight you’d spotted on his desk earlier... causing your heart clench.

your daughter had made that for him during her time at preschool for fathers day; something your husband cherished with his whole heart, even if the thing was still sticky with glue when he’d gotten it.

katsuki loved taiga more than anything in the world and if something had happened to her because of your line of work, you don’t know what either of you would do. “what if something were to happen to you? or to me? or shit...both of us? who would look after taiga? you know what happens to kids who end up in the fucking system.” bakugou pauses, the same tired expression from earlier now sitting heavily on his face. “i just want you to be careful, stop pushing yourself so much, y’fuckin’ dumbasss. we have a family take care of. it’s not just you and i anymore.”

you nod, grasping onto your lover’s clothes tightly. the air is flooded with a comfortable silence, the pair of you holding one another right the way through it. you treasure moments like this, where the world stops and katsuki shows you another, more vulnerable side to him.

he would never admit or show this to anyone; but he cares , more than he lets on... especially for you and especially for your daughter. he was attentive, paid attention to you and your weaknesses and helped you overcome them. it was something you couldn’t stop loving about him. “i promise to be more careful, for you and for taiga,” you say quietly after he’s done scolding you, brushing your lips against the side of his head in a soft peck. “that must’ve been why jumped in earlier, you were worried about me?”

“somethin’ like that, you crazy woman,,” bakugou whispers, there’s a tinge of fondness to his ruby eyes as you pull away to look at him, his hands settling on your hips while he moves up to press a soft kiss to your awaiting lips. “didn’t want you getting yourself killed.”

you stay with katsuki in the office for a little longer than usual, laying on his chest as he prattles away about everything and anything even though he should be working. you make sure he eats his lunch, despite how cold it is and promise him a boat load of take out when he comes home later— your sweet cuddling session only being cut short by a call from your assistant to tell you that your daughter is ready to be picked up from school. “better finish that interview katsu, taiga’ll be happy to know her daddy’s getting some time off to spend with her soon,” you remind him as you gather yourself together, your husband pouting ( he swears on his life he wasn’t ) from the loss of your warmth in his lap. “she has a lot to tell you.”

the blonde quirks a brow, watching you as you head for the door. “yeah? like what?” a hand comes up to cover your mouth as you giggle at his curious face. sometimes, when you look at katsuki, you could see how much your daughter resembles him, right down to his mannerisms. she had somehow inherited the shape of your nose and the brightness of your smile ( the only reason barely anyone realised bakugou had a kid, he never fucking smiled. ) but the bakugou genes were incredibly strong so there was no way she’d miss out on those crimson eyes and uncontrollable, untameable messy blonde hair.

she even acted like him. a very brazen little girl who knew what she wanted and how to get it, so she had her daddy wrapped around her stubby little fingers.

you grin, eyes sparkling with the same mischief as before. “oh y’know, just her little crush on midoriya’s boy.”

“yer fuckin’ kiddin’ me.”

“i would never joke about such a thing, just make sure you’re home in time for dinner, number two!” you squeal, dashing out of the office before your husband has time to demand more answers from you. slamming the door shut, you chuckle at the melody of curses that leave your husbands mouth before heading off to pick up your daughter.

on your way, you admit to yourself , that maybe you didn’t have this fight in the bag. but what you did have; was a loving husband, a beautiful daughter and the best life you could have ever imagined.

extended ending:

“so, taiga... daddy hears you have a little... crush on someone.”

you’re in the kitchen, washing the dishes from tonight’s dinner as bakugou wipes tentatively at your little girl’s messy face— she was a poor eater but it’s something you didn’t mind, not when your husband was so soft with cleaning her up. you can see them from where you stand, watching katsuki knowingly.

taiga looks up from the colouring you’d set out for her when she finished up her meal, crimson eyes shining brightly as she fixes her gaze on her father. “mhm mhm!! he’s mister deku’s son! and i’m gonna marry him!”

“no yer not.” bakugou answers simply, looking close to popping a vein.

“why not?”

your husband scoffs, throwing away the tissue he’d used to clean his little girl up before joining her in her colouring. “‘cause daddy says so ‘n boys are gross, especially ones who’s dad’s look like broccoli.” the older ash blonde seems satisfied with his answer, grinning to himself as you dry the dishes with an amused smile.

but taiga isn’t finished, swapping her green crayon for a red one to finish up her drawing. “but you’re a boy...and mommy still married you!”

bakugou pauses, lost for words as taiga continues to colour— humming the theme song from a commercial for some of deku’s merch. you can tell it’s taking everything katsuki’s got not to combust right there on the spot, but he can’t stay mad at taiga for too long, not when she’s describing her wedding and how her daddy is going to walk her down the isle.

setting the dishes to dry and towelling your hands; you smile to yourself as you admire your family. some would say you had it all, and looking at the pair of bakugou’s now, who were you to deny the truth.

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idy-ll-ique · 4 years ago

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A Day Well-Spent

Pairing: Mob Boss!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Genre: It's like... fluff to the extreme

Warnings: mention of guns

Requested: nope

Summary: Y/N has just moved to Brooklyn and doesn't know how things are there. Bucky Barnes runs things around Brooklyn but what happens when they meet? Will she run away or will she still shoot her shot?

Author's Note: Hiya peeps! Okay, first of all, THANK YOU FOR 500 FOLLOWERS I CANNOT STRESS THIS ENOUGH I LOVE Y'ALL SO MUCH. also i think im obsessed with mob fics????? chile anyways so... enjoy!

---

"Ready to go, sweetie?"

"You know it, babe," Y/N grinned at her friend, Clarice. The two, on their way to work, had stopped by a coffee shop for their daily dose of caffeine. As they walked out of the café, Clarice turned to Y/N. "Finish your story! What did Brad say to you after that?!" Clarice reminded her and Y/N giggled.

"Oh, he was just too sweet! But not my type, ya know what I mean? I didn't know how to turn him down," she sighed. "Poor guy. If he had approached me…" Y/N lightly shoved her friend. "I have his number, should I pass it on?" Clarice turned to Y/N, wide eyed. "Darling, you're too good to me," she spoke with a strong Brooklyn accent.

Y/N burst out laughing. She had moved from another part of the country to Brooklyn for education; along with attending college, she was also working as a waitress at a nice little restaurant. That was how she met Clarice, her being another waitress at said restaurant. The two became fast friends.

Clarice was a few years older than Y/N, a single mother with a 4 year old son. Her son was extremely cute. As Y/N continued laughing, she didn't notice how her friend stopped in her tracks. Clarice was busy staring at the huge hunk of a man a few feet ahead of Y/N, standing in the middle of the pavement with his phone held to his ear, his back to them.

Bucky Barnes.

That man was James Buchanan Barnes, the King of Brooklyn. He ran the whole damn city along with his mob; very important and influential. On top of that? He was hot-headed, easily got angry and people knew what happened when he got angry. Except Y/N. Y/N didn't even know who he was.

As Y/N neared Bucky, still laughing for some reason, Clarice thought of calling out to her. And alert him of their presence? No way! "Clarice, you know I love it when you do your acc—" All of a sudden, Y/N collided into a soft wall, spilling her coffee all over it. Opening her eyes, she found out that it was no wall; instead, she had collided straight into a person.

And drenched his back with coffee.

He was wearing what looked like a very expensive suit and Y/N immediately felt guilty. "Oh my goodness, I'm so fucking sorry!" she blurted out as Bucky pulled the phone away from his ear, turning to look at her. His men, who were loitering around, had her surrounded as they pointed their guns at her. But she didn't notice.

She was busy staring at Bucky, her jaw slightly dropped. Hot damn, he is good looking, she thought to herself. It wasn't until he cleared his throat that she snapped out of a daydream. He had a stern expression on his face and she realized she messed up. He's someone important. Then she started apologizing profusely.

Bucky simply stared at her, taking in her features as he gave her a once-over. She's new, he realized, not from Brooklyn. "Hey, hey, hey, it's okay," he chuckled and she immediately shut up, offering him a timid smile. "I really am sorry, I feel like a total ass. That suit looks expensive, sir, is there any way I can help? Maybe pay for dry cleaning?"

"Do you know who I am?" he instead asked and her brows furrowed. "Oh Lord, am I supposed to know?! One mess up after another…" she grumbled and Bucky couldn't help but laugh. "Don't worry. My name is Bucky Barnes, you may call me Bucky." At this point, even his men were surprised, lowering their guns.

Clarice was still standing there and one of the men caught her eye. He nodded his head towards Y/N and Clarice gave him an unsure smile. He sauntered over to her. "She's with you?" he asked and Clarice groaned, dropping her head. "She's new to Brooklyn, and has no idea who he is. I'm so sorry for the inconvenience."

The man smiled at her. "No worries, looks like the boss isn't gonna hurt her. I'm Sam, by the way." Clarice gave him a shy smile. Sam was also very good-looking. "I'm Clarice, nice to meet you." Better to remain on the good side of the mob. Back to Y/N and Bucky… "Bucky, that's a good name. Short for anything?"

He ran a hand through his hair, grinning. It had been years, years since someone outside of the mob had spoken to him so freely and without fear. It felt nice and refreshing, even more so because Y/N was super gorgeous. "James Buchanan Barnes." Y/N couldn't help but laugh. "Named after a president, huh?"

"You making fun of my name now, doll?" he smirked slyly. "Oh no no, I wouldn't dare," she flirted easily, "My name is Y/N. I still feel bad about ruining your suit, you won't even take the money…" Bucky waved her off. "First, Y/N is a wonderful name. Second, you don't need to worry your pretty head over me, this suit can easily be replaced."

"Then how about this? A coffee. My treat. It'll make me feel better," she insisted. Bucky raised a quick brow, thinking that he would be the one to ask her out but oh well, this works too. "Let's call it a date, shall we?" he purred, taking a step closer to her. She didn't back off. "If you'd like," she grinned up at him.

He couldn't help but grin back. "Excellent. Then how about you put your number in my phone and I pick you up next Sunday at 7 pm?" He thrust his phone into her hand and Y/N swore she heard someone gasping in the background. Bucky Barnes was a very private person but here he was now; handing his phone to a stranger.

She quickly put her number in his phone and handed it back, smiling. "I'll await your call." He leaned in and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. "I have to go now, so I'll see you later. Say hello to your friend from my side. Sam! Stop flirting, man, we gotta go!" Y/N looked over her shoulder to see his friend flirting with Clarice.

She laughed and turned back to Bucky, who was already looking at her with a goofy grin on his face. "I'll see you next Sunday, Mr Barnes. Again, sorry for the suit!" He waved his arm in dismissal and got into the car, throwing her one last blowing kiss before zooming off. Y/N walked back to Clarice, who was staring at her, jaw dropped.

"I know the hell you didn't just do that."

"Did I do something wrong?" Y/N frowned. Then, all of a sudden, a wide grin bloomed on Clarice's face. "Do you even know who you're going to go on a date with next Sunday?!" Y/N blinked. "Is he someone important?" Clarice made a sound of indignation. "Important? Bitch, he's the Kingpin! The King of Brooklyn! A mob boss!"

Y/N's eyes went wide. "No way," she scoffed. "Yes way! Ask anyone! He runs things around here, babe. It was fun to see him all soft, though, he's kinda hot-headed and hard to impress. Even women stay away from him. And now you two are going on a date?! If this relationship does not end in a marriage I'm suing."

Y/N flushed slightly and punched Clarice on the shoulder. "Clair, we haven't even gone on one date." Clarice shrugged. "A girl can dream. Oh, your children will be the most beautiful! Did you see his right hand man, though?! Mamma mia! Said his name was Sam Wilson, I got his number!" The two reached their workplace.

Inside Bucky's car, he was still smiling, lost in thoughts. "So, that chick, huh," Sam spoke devilishly from the driver's seat. Bucky looked at him. "That's no way to talk about the future Mrs Barnes," he admonished and Sam chortled. "Dude, you haven't been on even one date! Slow down, chicks don't like dudes who plan out a marriage on the first date."

"But I know I'm right, so why shouldn't I plan?" Bucky shrugged. He was more than confident that Y/N was going to become his in the future. The way she looked at him, spoke to him, flirted with him… it was enough for him to become smitten with her at the first glance. "What about you and her friend, huh?"

It was Sam's turn to become flustered. "Clarice Light. Has a 4-year old son, Aaron." Bucky nodded thoughtfully. "A mother. Well-maintained looks," he commented, laughing when Sam punched him on the shoulder. "Why don't you think about your own chick and leave mine alone?"

---

Y/N frantically smoothed out her dress, checking herself in the mirror. She wore a beautiful, nude coloured bandage dress that reached mid-thigh, along with similar coloured heels. Bucky was coming to pick her up in 5 minutes. Even after finding out who he was she didn't back away, instead finding it empowering that the most important man in Brooklyn wanted to take her out on a date.

All of a sudden the bell rang, pulling Y/N out of her thoughts. The first thing she saw upon opening the door was a huge bouquet of red roses right in front of someone's face. He then moved the bouquet to reveal his face and Y/N smiled broadly. "Bucky!" He grinned back at her. "Hi, doll! Here, an extraordinary bouquet for an equally extraordinary woman."

"You're too flattering. These roses smell amazing, thank you so much." She took the bouquet from his hands and kept it away, stepping out of the house. Bucky offered her his hand and she took it, allowing him to lead her out of the building and towards an audacious, ridiculously expensive looking car.

"Everything about you is lavish, huh?" she teased as he ushered her into the passenger seat, sitting next to her. "Bad to have a taste for the finer things in life?" he teased right back, placing his hand on her thigh as the other gripped the steering wheel. "No, I mean, you are the Kingpin. I should expect luxury."

He glanced at her to see her grinning at him. "You found out?" She nodded. "Yup, Clarice told me as soon as you left. I don't mind though, I'm just wondering… why me?" He laughed. "Why you? Sweetheart, you are the first person aside from Sam who has talked to me so freely since… since I was 18. And you're gorgeous. So why not?"

"Again, with the flattery…"

"Just stating facts, my dear."

"Also, my friend has a crush on Sam, so do tell him to ask her out." Bucky laughed harder. It had been years since he'd enjoyed himself so much. "Really? He has a crush on her too! I guess I'll tell him tomorrow." Y/N looked out of the window. "Where are we going?" Bucky gently squeezed her thigh. It was clear he wasn't taking her to a café, like originally planned.

"A picnic in the park." Y/N's eyes lit up. "I love picnics!" she squealed. "Then I guess I made a good choice," Bucky chortled along. The two soon reached the park and Bucky got out of the car first, holding the door open for Y/N to step out. "A gentleman," she noted, making him grin. He then took out the picnic basket from the backseat.

Y/N laid out the classic pink and white checkered blanket that he had brought along, taking off her heels before sitting down. "Ugh, I'd have worn pants if I knew I was going to be sitting on the ground," she groaned as she somehow sat down, adjusting her dress.

"You look gorgeous in that dress though," Bucky commented, "But you don't need to worry about public indecency because it's just you and me in the park." Y/N blinked at him as he sat down, opening the basket and taking out food. "Just us? You booked the whole park?" Bucky smirked at her. "It's easy when you run things around here."

Y/N fondly shook her head. "So much effort." He winked at her. "All for you, doll, all for you." The two maintained a chat as they ate. "So, you're new here. Why did you move to Brooklyn?" Bucky asked her. "Education. I go to [Name] college, actually, and work part-time as a waitress for some additional income," she hummed. He nodded thoughtfully.

"What about you? Is the mob a family business or a start-up?" Bucky smiled at her boldness. "Family business, my dad used to run it before me. I was 16 when I took over." Y/N realized what must've happened and gave him a sad smile. "I'm sorry for your loss." Bucky returned the smile. "It's fine, he was no saint."

"No?"

"Yup, hated him actually. Used to be cruel to my mom, to me too… until he got shot. Best day of my life." Y/N gasped quietly. "Bucky! He was your father!" Bucky chuckled mercilessly. "An asshole is what he was. Geez, speaking of, my mom is gonna be so happy."

"What's her name?" Y/N took a bite of her sandwich. "Winifred. She's awesome, raised me and my sister alone, ya know? Dad was always too busy. My mom will like you, I can tell. And so will my sister." Y/N smiled at that. "A sister?" He nodded, excited to talk about his family.

"Rebecca Barnes. She's a few years younger than me, maybe your age. She goes to your college too." Y/N suddenly squealed. "You mean to tell me my best friend from college is your sister? Rebecca Barnes?!" Bucky smiled so wide he thought his cheeks were gonna tear. "You've met her?" Y/N vehemently nodded.

"She's really great, the only person kind enough to introduce herself on the first day I moved in. She was the one who showed me around campus and I found out that she mostly spent time alone because no one wanted to talk to her, her brother being involved with the bad side of law or something. But I didn't care. I still don't. She's awesome, you're awesome."

Bucky felt himself tear up at her words. "Doll, you have no idea how much that means to me." Y/N grinned at him, scooting sideways so she could lay her head on his shoulder. "I'm serious, you know. I can't wait to tell her about this." Bucky laughed in a watery tone, pressing his lips to her temple.

The two quietly ate after that. When the food was over both of them lay down on the blanket, looking up at the starry sky. "It's so beautiful," Y/N whispered, cuddling into Bucky's side as she stared at the gibbous moon. Bucky wrapped an arm around her and pulled her closer to him.

"It's nothing compared to you."

Y/N laughed quietly and looked up, the same time he looked down. They met each other halfway; their lips connecting softly yet eagerly. Lost in the kiss Bucky sat up, pulling Y/N on his lap as they continued making out. Finally, after what felt like hours did they pull away, breathless. They said nothing; Bucky looked at her as if she hung the moon.

Y/N stared at him as if he were the only thing in the world. "So, when will I get a second date?" she broke the silence, leaning down to press her forehead to his. "Oh, doll, you're not getting rid of me any time soon," he shot back, laughing. Y/N giggled along and stood up.

Both of them packed their things and got into the car, Bucky offering to drive her home since it was late. So I guess it had been hours. As Bucky drove, Y/N's phone chimed. He glanced at her when she laughed. "What's so funny?" Y/N wheezed before answering.

"I've got two texts. One from Becca and one from Clarice."

Bucky couldn't stop his chuckle. "What did Becca say?" Y/N read out, "Girl, just heard you're on a date with my bro? And I— I swear if you don't become my sister in law, I'm suing." Laughter filled the car. "She really said that?" Y/N nodded. "Yup! Even Clarice, on the day we met, said the same thing! It's nuts. We just met and they're already planning a wedding."

"Speaking of, what was Clarice's message?"

"Oh nothing, just that she got back home from a date with Sam a few minutes ago."

"What?!"

"What's wrong with that?"

"That asshole had work today!"

"Bucky!"

All in all, it was a day well-spent.

---

A/N: Thanks for reading! Leave a like if you enjoyed!

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes fluff #winter soldier #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x y/n #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan x female reader #sebastian stan characters #disney #mcu #marvel #avengers #fanfic #writing #writeblr

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imaginedreamwrite · 3 years ago

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Criminal: Part 15

The dim lights in the warehouse were the only sign that anyone was inside. They were getting to transport and trade some of their more illicit goods out of state. The payoff would be well worth it for Tommy Johnson, and if he would’ve kept himself busy being a rat instead of crossing Bucky, then his portion of the city wouldn’t have to be threatened. Maybe Tommy Johnson had stuck to what he knew best; Bucky wouldn’t be going on a rampage uncovering every rock, every hole to find you.

Bucky wouldn’t have to cut down the foot-soldiers Johnson got himself.

“Fucker.” Bucky perched himself on top of the scout’s nest of the adjacent building and peered through the scope of his rifle, spying the lightbulb above the men who were cowering in the back, helping themselves to their bosses stash of ‘shine that was supposed to be shipped out. The fucker was losing profits to his men; his products were consumed internally without the big boss’ knowledge.

“Poor ignorant pricks.” Bucky rested his finger against the trigger and exhaled slowly, gauging on the bullet, hitting the light and shrouding them all in darkness. “You don’t know what hell is about to be unleashed on you.”

He pulled the trigger and felt the kickback against his shoulder. Bucky watched and listened for the sound of breaking glass and the surprised shouts of the men trapped inside the warehouse. Bucky had pushed himself to stand and grabbed the rifle from the scout’s nest he crafted and moved to the fire escape attached to the right of the building.

He approached the flight and started making his descent, tossing his gun down to the man waiting at the bottom of the latter. When he was low enough, he jumped from the metal rungs and followed the trail of screams and gunfire, the sound of his men taking the high ground, taking hold of yet another warehouse. When Bucky slipped through the loading dock door, he grabbed the rifle from his man and rested it against the floor by the exit.

“Search everywhere and everything. I want everything of value to us loaded onto the trucks waiting.” Bucky gave the order before he slipped his hand into his left pants pocket and pulled out a pack of darts. He removed one from the carton and held it between his lips, taking a light from one of the men passing beside him.

He stepped over broken glass that lay scattered over a cement floor. Every step he had taken in the warehouse they’d now taken, he was reminded of the inflictions that were given to by the hands of a man Bucky had once considered a friend.

Or maybe he was deluding himself by believing he was ever friends with a man like Tommy Johnson. Maybe Bucky wasn’t as proactive as he should have been, but he was learning now.

“You got his attention,” one of his men had made his way from the back of the warehouse with an envelope containing more pictures and more evidence that Tommy Johnson was running scared.

As he damn well should’ve been.

“She was here,” Bucky snatched the envelope from his man and ripped open the top, “and they took pictures-“

“She sent another message.” There was a broken piece of wood from a shipping crate, a message carved into the grains.

“Of course she did.” Bucky grabbed the wood and glanced at the message you’d left for him. “Tommy Johnson is receiving just as much shit from her.”

“Boss-“ the man started to speak, confused about another coded message they’d received that made no sense to him.

“The codes are telling us where she is. It’s an old army code they used in 1917. Her father was a soldier-“

“But Rogers wasn’t-“

“I know she wasn’t born then, you fucker.” Bucky snapped; his impatience and his need to have you safe again was draining him of any and all residual kindness. “She found the old code books in her father’s things when she was 10—obsessed about the damn things. I never did think they would pay off. My girl’s damn brilliant. This code is going to lead us to where she is.”

“Can you understand it?”

“Steve will be able to.” Bucky slipped the piece of broken wood into his pocket and looked around the warehouse empty of lives that didn’t belong to him, his blue eyes narrowing at the sight of bullet holes and their blood bodies laying on the cement, the little bit of fight they had put up was nothing compared to a man who was on the warpath to save his best girl.

“I want the whole place burned to the ground. I want nothing left standing.” Bucky gave the order and then turned on his heel, moving back toward the side door that led to the loading dock.

“Boss, there’s still merchandise here-“

The merchandise Johnson had left in the hands of his ‘capable men’ were lying in crates scattered around the floor, every box had been gone through, and anything worth taking was already gone onto their trucks that were waiting. Everything else would be a loss to him.

“Burn it all. We’re squeezing him all we can. Burn everything.” Bucky gave the order once more, the final time he would address the topic.

Before he had left the building, he grabbed his rifle from its place beside the door and held it from where it rests against the wall. Bucky lifted it with his right hand and stabilized it against his shoulder, looking through the scope attached to the top. As he peered through the , he felt the piece of broken crate shifting in his pocket, a reminder that you weren’t relying solely on his knowledge of his rival to save you.

You were doing as much as you could when you could.

“We’re ready to light it up.” Bucky lowered the gun and handed it to one of his men in exchange for a molotov cocktail.

Bucky stepped away from the door and tipped the bottle over, further soaking the rag. When he had tilted it back, he dug into his pocket for a lighter, and upon flicking the striker to get a flame, Bucky ignited the molotov cocktail.

“Burn down, you bastard.” Bucky threw the cocktail toward the crates and then stood back and watched his handiwork and the flames that grew and spread throughout the warehouse.

As the building quickly caught fire, the remaining men in the warehouse left through the loading dock door. Bucky reached into his pocket and grabbed the piece of broken crate; he studied the symbols etched into the wood and drug the pad of his thumb over the symbols you’d managed to carve into the wood. He took a moment for himself, willed himself to slip into his private headspace away from all of this shit.

“I don’t know why you’re bothering.”

“I want to talk shit about you to your sister without your knowledge.”

“Shouldn’t you be busy fighting boys, butch?”

“If you’re too stupid to learn it, say so. Jealousy is an ugly colour on you.”

God, Bucky missed you. He missed you so damn much, and he wouldn’t stop until you were back home. He would burn down the entire city if that’s what it took to find you.

You caught the stench of fear before you heard it laced in his voice. You captured the sour and spicy stench of cold sweat as it clung to the back of his neck and dripped from his forehead. He thought he was clever, and he thought he was untouchable. He was so sure of his grand plan to exploit you, to lord you over Bucky’s head, until he crumbled and caved to get you back.

Tommy Johnson was trying to take over the city ad bring Bucky to his knees.

The man was riddled with arrogancy, and arrogancy had led him to make mistakes, like assuming you were a woman of little knowledge and skills. He believed you were some pretty object to hang off Bucky’s arm.

He had no idea who he was fucking with. But he was about to learn.

Bucky was closing in, and each coded message you left behind when Johnson moved you to keep Buck from finding you wasn’t just leading Bucky to you, but to assets that could be taken or destroyed to weaken the other side further.

“You were supposed to take care of the situation! Instead, you leave the task to me! What am I even paying you for?” He was scared, and he was being backed into a corner. He was losing all his ground, his territory being taken over by Bucky block by block. He was being cut off from all angles, and soon, Bucky would be upon him, and Johnson would be on his knees. “Find him and kill him!”

The phone was slammed, the sound carrying through the vents and the walls. He was pacing; you could hear the sound of his footsteps on the floor. He was mumbling to himself, likely puffing on a dart, trying to calm his nerves.

“He’s coming for you!” You leaned your head back against the wall and rubbed your wrists together against a nail you’d gotten loose by some miracle. “He’s going to fucking kill you!”

“You mouthy bitch!” He slammed his fist against the wall as he screamed at you. “You need another reminder of what happens to mouthy cunts-“

The door opened and closed, his footsteps getting closer. When he moved from the room, he was into the space you were being held in. He was stalking toward the door, taking no small measure in being quiet.

He battered you; he bruised you and made your whole body ache. He was a man who took sick pleasure in turning your body into a canvas for his fists. He was taking his anger and his aggression out on you, and while the pain was blinding, it faded quickly in comparison to what you knew Bucky would make him feel.

You just needed to bide your time.

“Virgin cunt.” The door slammed open when he kicked it, the hinges buckling beneath the strength he used. “I was wanting to wait until Barnes was here to witness me fucking you while he watched.”

“You like having other men watch you fuck?” You pushed yourself back against the wall, the ropes around your wrists loosening rough thread by coarse thread. “I’m not surprised-“

“You whore!” He crouched in front of you and gripped your chin tightly, his fingers digging into your flesh. He leaned in closer, his beady eyes widened, and the flickers of fear in his eyes brought a bubble of laughter to your throat. “You need your tongue ripped out of your mouth. I should take my knife and cut my name into your flesh.”

“Which is it? Are you going to cut out my tongue or carve your name into flesh? I don’t think you’ll. Have time to do both-“ he pulled his hand back, and you heard the whip of the air before you felt his hand making contact with your cheek.

“You mouthy bitch. Thinking you can talk to me that way. Who the hell do you think you are?”

Your head whipped to the side from the force, and while he had stood and moved away from you, satisfied with his brute force, you jerked your hand’s ad finally sliced through the ropes. You stood slowly and as quietly as you possibly could, thankful that the moron didn’t bind your feet.

His back was to you, sucking on another dart, believing that you were finally silent.

You slid your feet forward, silencing your movements on the carpet in the room, spying the cane he had resting against the dingy bed in the room.

You grabbed the cheap wood and gripped it tightly in your hands, taking as good of aim as you possibly could and used as much strength as you could muster, and smashed the wood against his back. As he stumbled and fell against the wall, you swung, again and again, giving him blow after blow.

You knew it wouldn’t keep him down for long, but it would be enough. It would be enough time for you to run, for you to try and get out of this hell hole.

“I’m a god-damn, Barnes.” You spat at his feet. “Bitch.”

#‘40s!mob!bucky barnes #‘40s!bucky barnes #mob!bucky imagine angst #mob!bucky barnes imagines smut #mob!bucky barnes imagines fluff #mob!bucky barnes imagines angst #mob!bucky barnes imagines #mob!bucky barnes x reader smut #mob!bucky barnes x reader angst #mob!bucky barnes x reader fluff #mob!bucky barnes x reader #criminal series #criminal masterlist #criminal #criminal part 15

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years ago

Text

Special Order

Warnings: noncon sexual acts and rape, fingering, breeding and mentions of forced pregnancy.

This is dark!Lee Bodecker and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Based on this drabble request: Lee Bodecker + “Why are you crying?” + breeding/forced pregnancy + y/n is a waitress and the sheriff is obsessed with her, and what better way to make her his 4ever than put some babies on her.

“He’s here again,” Mandy said as you loaded up your tray.

You didn’t need to ask who, you heard his gruff response as he came in and was seated in his usual booth. He was always alone but insisted on a whole family-sized table to himself. You sighed and gave Mandy a look.

“I’ll just get this taken care of then see to him,” you promised as you turned carefully.

“Good, ‘cause I ain’t dealin’ with him no more and he won’t deal with no one but you,” she whined and put a ticket in the window.

“Yeah, I know,” you made yourself smile, “stubborn man that one.”

“I ain’t know why he prefers you,” Selma said as she loaded the coffee machine, “probably ‘cause none of us got the patience for that.”

“Patience,” you scoffed, “not what I would call it.”

You swept over to the family of five and set out the plates one at a time. You finished up at the table and replaced your tray on the stack. You looked at the sheriff and he stared back expectantly. He did that, just watched until you came over.

You went over with a sickly sweet smile and took out your notepad. You tapped your stubby pencil on the paper.

“And what are we gettin’ today, sheriff?” you asked in your sugary tone.

“Ah, now don’t be usin’ that voice with me, honey,” Sheriff Bodecker said as he fiddled with the menu.

“You need to start treatin’ the other girls nice,” you retorted.

“I don’t like the other girls,” he read his menu and frowned, “I never tried the… onion dip.”

“Uh huh,” you said unimpressed, “well, I’ll just warn you, sheriff, I can’t and I won’t stop Mandy from spitting in between the bread.”

He frowned at you and put the menu down. “I’m sorry, it’s not that I’m tryna be rude, honey--”

“What did I tell you about callin’ me that? I’ll overlook it once or twice but I’m not one to put up with your gull, you know that,” you lowered your brows at him.

“I’m not tryna be rude, miss,” he corrected himself, “I’m only… I only prefer you is all.”

“Sure, sure, is it my sunny smile or my breezy demeanour,” you teased, “the onion dip then?”

“Club sandwich, extra bacon… miss,” he folded up the menu, “please and thank you.”

“I’ll have Mandy bring it right over,” you said, “now you don’t make me come back, I got other customers.”

👮

When the diner closed, you took your usual route home. Your tips were tucked deep in your old purse and your scuffed soles padded on the pavement, then the dirt path that trailed off to the old country house. You lived with your ma on her father’s ancient farm, your pops long dead.

As you turned up the hill that led to the long drive, a flash of lights stopped you in your tracks. You looked up at the distant house, a single window lit by the old oil lamp your ma still used. You sighed and turned to face the cruiser parked in the shadows of the beech tree.

You recognized the silhouette as he stood straight behind the driver’s door. The sheriff fixed his hat as he came around and looked you over in the early twilight. He didn’t spend much time in town, often riding around the county and only stopping by to sit down at Sal’s and terrorise the waitresses.

“Sheriff,” you greeted, “whatcha doin’ around here?”

“Whatcha think?” Bodecker asked as he leaned against the hood, his large stomach sticking out from his open leather jacket.

“My ma’s waiting on me, I brought her leftovers from the diner,” you waved the paper bag.

“They already cold,” he lit a smoke and flicked it, “I wanna see ya.”

“Now, sheriff, we had our time--”

“I always thought I tip you well considerin’ the mouth on ya,” he took a long draw on the cigarette, “ain’t you?”

“Of course, sheriff, but I’m not on the clock right now and ma be expectin’ me,” you said.

He took another drag and threw the half-smoked stick away. He stood straight and reached to his holster. He unsnapped the small strap but made no move to free the pistol. You took a step back, terrified, and swallowed.

“Sheriff,” you said cautiously.

“Honey, please, you know I don’t be wantin’ to hurt you now,” he ran his thumb along the butt of the gun, “so you come put down those scraps and let me get a good look.”

You stared at his hand on his pistol. You took a deep breath and stepped closer. You set paper bag on the hood of his car and he slid your purse from your other arm. He tossed it beside the leftovers and trailed his fingers down your arm.

“I always thought that was a nice colour on ya,” he grabbed your wrist and pulled you against him, your ankles twisted and you collided with his round stomach.

“Thank you,” you looked past him as you smelled the bacon still on his breath.

“Look real nice, honey,” he undid the top button of your dress and you flinched, biting down as you stared at the beech bark. He groped your chest and you closed your eyes. When you opened them, they were wet. “Why are you crying?”

“Can I go now?” your voice wobbled despite your effort to hide your distress.

“We ain’t even started, honey,” he undid another button, and another, and exposed your cleavage above your brassiere “Look at you.”

“Please, sheriff, I want to go home,” you caught his hand and he grabbed your jaw. You choked on your fear as he turned you and pushed you against the bumper.

“You’ll be home soon enough,” he snarled, “you put your hand down my pants and make me let you go.”

You shook your head in disgust. You looked him in the face, all the light drained from his eyes as his jowls lined with malice. He squeezed your jaw and you cried out in pain. You reached to his belt blindly and fumbled to undo the buckle. You felt how hard he was through his pants as you pushed down his fly.

“You’re hurtin’ me,” you whispered as you pushed beneath his briefs.

“I could do a lot worse,” he threatened, “ah that’s it, honey.”

You wrapped your fingers around his dick. He was thick and hard against your palm. You stroked him and he shuddered as he leaned against you. His hand slipped down to play with your chest again. He had you pinned to the car as you kept your wrist moving in the confines of his pants.

He groaned and trembled as he urged you faster and you obeyed, turning your head to look at the farmhouse just up the rise. He grabbed your face again and leaned in. His hot breath grazed your lips and he pressed his mouth to your cheek.

He edged you back onto the car and stepped between your knees. Your skirt rode up as he forced your legs wide around him. You pushed on his chest with your free hand and he flung you onto your back with a vicious shove.

You sprawled across the hood, your bags falling to the ground as he grabbed your hips. He ripped your hand from inside his pants and rolled his briefs under his dick. You kicked out as he reached under your skirt and wrestled off your underwear. You cried out as he ripped them free of one ankle.

“No, please, don’t do this. Sheriff, please--”

“You can keep callin’ me sheriff,” he purred as he bent over you again and searched for your entrance with his fingers.

“How long’s it been?” he asked as he caught his tip and poked it along your hole, “Two years, you think I’ll wait forever.”

“I don’t-- Get off of me,” you sank your nails into his leather jacket desperately, “get--”

You gulped as he sank into you all at once. It hurt and sent a pang up your spine. Your wet eyes began to leak as you realised you couldn’t stop him. He thrust and sent another agonizing bolt through you.

“Two years, honey, you think we got time left?” he rutted between ragged pants, “‘bout time you get a baby on ya.”

“Wha-- oh, please--” you gasped as he kept you pinned to the cold hood of the car.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of ya,” he rasped, “you ain’t gotta keep pourin’ coffee.”

“Stop,” you whispered and closed your eyes, “please..”

Your pleas fizzled and you let him get on, praying it would end. He fucked you harder with each thrust, fueled by your pathetic cries and the sound of him inside of you. He cradled your head as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. His breath singed your skin as he spasmed and spilled inside of you.

When he stopped, you couldn’t move. He pulled out of you with a grunt and his cum dripped from your cunt. You nearly slipped down the hood and barely got your feet under you before you could crumple. You rubbed your fingers through the sticky cum on your thigh and refused to look at him.

“Look at the mess you made of me, honey,” he purred, “the mess I made of you.”

You wiped his cum on your skirt, revolted by the cooling slickness. You pulled your dress straight and left your underwear in the dirt. You glanced at him but he didn’t make a move, only watched you with delight as his hands rested on his open belt.

Numb and unsure, you turned and grabbed up your purse and grease-stained paper bag from the ground. He chuckled and you heard his belt clink. You stumbled through the dirt as he let you go.

“I be seein’ you tomorrow,” he called after you, “I’ll make sure to take a long lunch.”

👮👮👮

Please reblog and like! Let me know what you think.

#dark lee bodecker #lee bodecker #lee bodecker x reader #dark!lee bodecker #The Devil All The Time #request #drabble #dark fic #dark!fic #fic #dark drabble

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komotionlessqueenmm · 4 years ago

Text

One man's trash, is another man's treasure.

(3-4)

Short story # 6

2,216 - Words

Fandom - House of Wax (2005)

Pairing - Bo Sinclair X Reader

Summary - The reader finds herself & her 4 month old son stranded in Ambrose. While Bo finds himself enamored with the woman, wanting nothing more than to protect and provide for the two of them.

Warnings - Some dark topics, talk of abusive relationships, eventual blood & death, eventual smut. (I'm not sure what else tbh)

Notes - At this point both Bo and (Y/n) are really feeling that connection between them.

Pt. 1 ~ Pt. 2 ~ Pt. 3 ~ Pt. 4

----

By the end of the day (Y/n)'s jeep was all fixed up, but with as late in the evening as it was she decided to stay another night, with some encouragement from Bo of course. While (Y/n) and Von slept soundly in the guest bedroom, Bo met his brothers down at the garage, discussing what they should do, and if they should do anything in the first place. "I don't know Bo, her ex tried killing her because she was pregnant... She'll be running her whole life from a man like that." Lester sighed, not wanting anything to happen to (Y/n). "So we let her stay here, we can protect her from him easily." Bo shrugged. "What about when she realizes what happened to the people here? Or she finds out about Vincent's projects." Lester argued. "We'll explain it, make her understand." Bo countered. "How?" Lester asked feeling a little concerned. "I don't know yet." Bo admitted with a sigh. "I think we should start by introducing her to Vincent." He continued his thought, glancing to his twin, who made an almost concerned groan. "If she can accept him, I'm sure she'll accept the rest." Bo lit a new cigarette after finishing his statement. "And if she doesn't?" Lester asked. "That's not an option." Bo's smirk made worry spark in Lester's heart. Despite this however he chose to keep his mouth shut, and allowed his older brother to do whatever he had in mind.

When morning came, (Y/n) woke up early and cooked breakfast. "Morning." Bo murmured with a sleepy smile on his face, having been woken from the smell of bacon. "Morning Bo, I hope you don't mind." (Y/n) smiled sheepishly as she looked to what all she had cooked. "Not at all." Bo shook his head, happily accepting the cup of coffee she handed him. "Great." (Y/n) smiled brightly, the pair of them taking a seat beside eachother, eating their breakfast in a comfortable silence. Excluding the occasional hum of approval Bo gave when he bit into something new. And by the time they finished Von began crying from upstairs, cueing (Y/n) to fetch him to begin his morning routine.

"Hey I was going to do those." (Y/n) pouted playfully when she entered the kitchen, finding Bo working on the dishes. "Eh don't worry about it, you cooked I'll clean up." Bo winked making (Y/n) blush as she sat at the counter, adjusting herself to feed a fussy Von. "My brother wants to meet you before you leave." Bo stated casually. "Really?" (Y/n) smiled softly. "Mhm." Bo nodded his head with a hum. "I'd love to meet him." (Y/n)'s grin widened a little, feeling honored that he'd want to meet her. "We'll meet him up at the house of wax in an hour." Bo confirmed as he finished up the last dish. "Sounds fun, I've never been to a house of wax before." She hummed as she propped Von onto her shoulder, burping him. "I'm gonna go take a quick shower, let me know when you're ready." Bo insisted casually as he moved to wipe the spit up off of Von's chin. "Okay will do." (Y/n) smiled with appreciation, hopping up from her seat to get herself and Von dressed.

Once inside of the wax Museum (Y/n)'s attention was drawn to just about everything within sight, making Bo chuckle as he watched her ogle everything. "I take it you like it?" Bo mused with a grin. "I'm a little obsessed, is everything in here really made of wax?" She asked turning to look Bo in the eye. "Just about everything, most of its wax, but some of it isn't." Bo shrugged a little. "The vase?" (Y/n) asked as she pointed to the large decorative vase. "Wax." Bo nodded. "The couch?" She pointed to the couch two wax figures sat upon. "Wax." He chuckled. "How about the...." (Y/n) looked around before realization struck her. "The building?" She turned her attention to Bo, her eyes widening when he nodded his head yes. "Wow that's insane." (Y/n) chuckled with astonishment. "But you like it yeah?" Bo asked. "I love it! I can't imagine how long this must have taken to craft all of this, but it's very impressive." (Y/n) beamed making Bo chuckle softly. "Vincent will be happy to hear that you like his work." Bo mused. "Wait he did all of this?" (Y/n)'s eyes widened. "Not all of it, but a lot of it." Bo explained. "Wow I wish I had that kinda talent." (Y/n) chucked softly, jumping when a statue in the back moved. "Alright no need to scare her." Bo chuckled with a shake of his head, the once statue approaching the pair. "I was not expecting you to move, I really thought you were a statue." (Y/n) chuckled nervously.

"(Y/n) this is my brother Vincent." Bo introduced the two, the masked brother timidity offering (Y/n) his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you." (Y/n) smiled looking at his mask with curiosity. "Is your prosthetic made of wax?" She asked without thought, but he only tilted his head to the side. "Your mask." She clarified, smiling when he nodded his head yes. "That's very cool, did you make it yourself?" (Y/n) asked chuckling when he nodded his head again. "You don't talk much huh?" She tilted her own head a little. "He can't." Bo clarified unknowingly making (Y/n) suddenly feel guilty. "Oh I didn't know, I'm sorry." (Y/n) ducked her head down, feeling stupid for opening her mouth. "Vincent do you wanna show her?" Bo asked his brother, who hesitated for a moment before nodding his head in agreement. (Y/n) picked her head up, watching in amazement as Vincent removed his mask. "Wow." She muttered under her breath, taking in the sight of his face, frowning a little when he looked away from her. "What happened?" (Y/n) turned to Bo. "We were born as Siamese twins, and our daddy was an unorthodoxed doctor. He was able to separate us as infants." Bo explained suddenly feeling subconscious himself. "Wow... That's incredible." (Y/n) murmured softly. "You're both incredible." She chuckled softly looking back to Vincent, who smiled back at her before putting his mask back on.

--Later that day--

Having decided on stay one more day (Y/n) sat with Bo in his living room talking about this and that, and joking about nearly everything. "(Y/N)!" A voice yelled from outside, cutting off (Y/n)'s laughter, a look of terror filling her eyes in an instant. "(Y/N)!" The man yelled from outside for a second time. "It's him... It's Trent, he's come for me!" (Y/n) panicked, explaining to Bo why she suddenly got so fearful. "(Y/N) I KNOW YOU'RE HERE!" Trent yelled, sounding a bit closer to Bo's house now. "I'll keep you safe." Bo promised before he rose to his feet, grabbing the shotgun he kept near the front door. "Wait he's dangerous." (Y/n) rushed to follow Bo outside, leaving Von in his crib asleep. "COME OUT COME OUT COME OUT!" Trent taunted from the center of town, his attention turning to a pissed off Bo Sinclair. "Found yourself a gullible local huh?" Trent sneered at (Y/n) who ignored her fear and continued following Bo. "I suggest you get outta here and forget about (Y/n)." Bo warned, resting his shotgun on his shoulder, standing about eight feet from Trent, who only scoffed at his threat. "How about you go fuck your sister, and leave me to my business." Trent hissed, his words only fueling the hatred Bo felt for this man. "Your business best consist of you getting outta my town." Bo glared Trent down, who only chuckled. "Sure I'll get outta your town, once I have her." Trent pointed to (Y/n), but Bo only pushed (Y/n) to stand back a little.

"That ain't gonna happen." Bo shook his head with a mocking grin on his face. "How did you even find me!?" (Y/n) asked the question that had been plaguing her mind. "Remember my buddy Stan? I had him bug your car with a GPS tracker." Trent mocked as he flashed them the receiver of the tracker. "Now get over here." He growled as he pulled a pistol from the back of his belt. As Trent trained the pistol, Bo stepped in front of (Y/n) training his shotgun on Trent. "I'll only warn you one more time." Bo hissed, resisting the urge to just blow the motherfucker away. "Fuck you, you fucking redneck." Trent taunted before he pulled the trigger, but his gun jammed and Bo smirked. "Nah fuck you." Bo retorted before pulling the trigger, blowing open Trent's chest. (Y/n) screamed at the sound, her heart racing in her chest. Almost like everything was moving in slow motion, (Y/n) watched Trent's body hit the ground with a thud, dead as dead gets. Bo was quick to spin on his heel, gently setting the gun on the ground he scooped (Y/n)'s shaking form into his arms. "Sh darling it's alright, I've got you. You're safe now darling, I've got you." He murmured against the crown of her head, carrying her back into his house. "It's okay (Y/n), rest now. I'll take care of everything, I'll take care of you." Bo promised as he laid her down on the couch, lovingly stroking her hair, before he kissed her temple. The events suddenly flipping a highly protective and tender switch within Bo, not that (Y/n) was complaining in the slightest, taking great comfort in his words and actions.

A few hours passed and in that time, (Y/n) had calmed down, and thought about a lot of things. Bo had dealt with the body and come back to (Y/n)'s side within the first hour, allowing her to cuddle into his side and think. "Bo what is this place?" (Y/n) asked with worry laced in her voice. "What?" Bo frowned his brows, a confused smile on his face. "Please don't lie to me anymore, please tell me what this place is. This town its just not right, in all the time I've been here I've only seen you Lester and Vincent." (Y/n) explained, suddenly feeling concerned for her baby's well being. "I want to tell you, I've wanted to tell you for a while now... But I don't want to scare you away." Bo hung his head. "Not telling me is scaring me, Bo please tell me." She insisted. "You know I would never hurt you or Von right?" Bo asked, his eyes the tiniest bit glossy. "Of course I know that." (Y/n) licked her lips, ignoring the worry bubbling at the back of her mind. "The town been abandoned for a decade, me and my brothers took it over a few years ago." Bo began. "Brothers?" (Y/n) asked having caught the plural. "Lester is mine and Vincent's younger brother." Bo explained frowning a little when (Y/n)'s eyes filled with worry.

"Lester convinces people to come to Ambrose, and me and Vincent kill them." Bo revealed, his confession making (Y/n)'s breath hitch in her throat. "Lester called me after he dropped you off at the gas station, and he told me to help you out, he insisted that we spared you." Bo licked his lips nervously. "I wasn't going to listen to him, but when you didn't snoop around town like everyone else, I was curious about you... Then I seen you, and your baby, and any dark thought I had washed away in an instant. The more we talked, the more I was intrigued with you... The more I wanted to protect you, especially when you told me about your ex." Bo admitted, his words surprisingly soothing (Y/n). "I'm sorry..." Bo muttered under his breath. "I forgive you." (Y/n) smiled softly, sitting up she adjusted herself to straddle Bo's lap. "I forgive you." She repeated herself as she took his face between her hands. "You've been better to me than most people in my life, and while the knowledge of what you and Vincent do... Is almost heartbreaking... I forgive you. I know you won't harm me or Von, to proved yourself to me today when you saved me from Trent." (Y/n) leaned in and gently kissed Bo's lips, pulling away all to soon. "I don't want to leave, I want to stay here with you... To love you despite the things you do, to love you despite the monster you can be... I want you for who you are, darkness and all." (Y/n) confessed, making Bo's mind go hazy with adoration. "Please stay." He muttered subconsciously. "I am." (Y/n) rest her forehead against his, smiling when he wrapped his arms around her waist.

----

Part three is complete!!!!

Part four will hopefully be posted tomorrow evening.

（＾_＾）

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plus-size-reader · 4 years ago

Text

Sneaking Around

Columbus Ohio x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 2344 words

Warnings: none

Summary: Tallahassee finding out that you, his daughter, and Columbus have been seeing each other in secret

—————————————————————————————————

It was a bad idea.

All things considered, there was nothing worse that you could have done. You both knew it, but at the same time, you couldn’t help yourselves.

Once Tallahassee found out about this whole thing, he was going to lose his mind. However, as much as you loved and respected him as your father, you weren’t blind to the fact that he wasn’t always right.

Where Columbus was concerned, for example, he couldn’t have been more wrong.

Florida acted like there was something wrong with him, even though the younger male was arguably your father’s greatest friend in the world. It was where you were concerned that the whole thing fell apart.

Columbus wasn’t good enough for you.

The idea of the two of you together, in any way, made him want to throw up and Tallahassee wasn’t exactly secretive about that. It was his one rule, the one thing he’d forbidden you from doing.

You weren’t allowed to date him.

So, naturally, that was exactly what you were doing.

It was inevitable.

The two of you were around the same age, going through something that only you were going through, and as if you didn’t already know, the apocalypse was lonely.

It wasn’t like the dating pool was vast and diverse.

Besides, you didn’t see anything wrong with it. Just because Tallahassee was your father didn’t mean he got to decide everything you did for the rest of your life.

There was a difference between keeping you safe and running your life. All you asked was that he learned the difference and respected it.

The two of you had grown up together seeing as Tallahassee had you pretty young, and your mom gave up custody of you almost immediately. In that way, you knew you were closer than the typical father-daughter would be.

...but controlling who you could and couldn’t date in your early twenties was a bit of a stretch.

You liked Columbus, and at this point, you weren’t even sure if you’d be able to stay away from him if you tried. The only other option then, if you didn’t want to be lectured into eternity, was keeping your relationship a secret.

It wasn’t ideal, and you weren’t happy about lying to him, but sometimes you had to do what had to be done.

What Florida didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

Right?

Wrong.

Sneaking around was bound to get old at some point, and the longer you kept it up, the more you ran the risk of getting caught, which just couldn’t happen.

You would never, ever, live that down.

Though, one of you wasn’t nearly as worried about getting caught as the other. In fact, Columbus was having a really good time keeping secrets from Tallahassee and sneaking around behind his back.

He was getting a kick out of it.

The older man had been busting his balls since they met and knowing that he had such a huge secret that Florida knew nothing about was some pretty sweet irony for him.

Of course, it didn’t hurt that he was head over heels in love with you.

From the start, Ohio had been in a desperate search for love and as soon as he met you, he knew you would be the one. There was just something about you, and he couldn’t imagine anyone else changing his life like you had.

You were strong and determined, without the uncontrollable anger and sass that Tallahassee had. It was as if you mixed together all the good qualities in the man with the genes of your mother, who he could only imagine was an angel.

That was the only way he could imagine Tallahassee having a kid like you.

It didn’t make any sense otherwise.

“Come here, look at this” You gushed, grabbing Columbus by the arm in a desperate attempt to get him to pay attention to what it was you were seeing.

After what had happened at Graceland, you had very little hope for the Hound Dog Hotel but it wasn’t shaping up to be too bad a time. All things considered, there was some pretty cool stuff here.

...and you weren’t the only one who thought so.

You hadn’t seen your dad since you walked through the doors and you were sure he was sneaking around here somewhere, snatching memorabilia from the shelves and singing at the top of his lungs.

At the very least, this place would put him in a better mood than he’d been in lately.

“Are you seeing this? These are Elvis’ actual shoes” you gasped, gesturing wildly to them as you fangirled. You had been raised on Tallahassee’s love of the King, and harbored quite the obsession yourself.

Being here was putting you in a really good mood.

Columbus grinned, watching you stare in awe at the blue suede, taking in every little detail of them as if you had never seen anything better before now.

It was sweet.

There was something sweet about it, something innocent that he hadn’t seen in you in a really long time. It was a real joy, without the worry or concern that came with living in a world like this one.

“I see” he hummed, not even bothering to hide the amusement in his tone as he talked to you.

A pair of shoes seemed a little silly as far as things to get this excited about were but he was just glad you were so happy. If you were happy, he was happy.

That was how this whole thing worked.

“And isn’t that amazing?” you continued, hoping that you could prompt a similar amusement from him but nothing came, not in the way you were looking for anyway.

More than anything, he just enjoyed being here with you.

The two of you didn’t get a lot of chances to be alone without the intrusion of someone else, whether that be Wichita, Little Rock, or worst of all, Tallahassee.

Just being together was all he could have ever wanted, but there was one other thing that would have surely gotten the reaction from you that he wanted so badly.

Without so much as a second thought, Ohio snatched the blue suede shoes from the pedestal they were on and slipped them on to his feet. It wasn’t a sure thing at first, but he quickly realized they were a perfect fit.

What were the odds of that?

“What do you think?” he grinned, doing his best to be suave in them, though it didn’t really work that way because he was too lanky and awkward. Instead, he sort of resembled a newborn calf learning to walk.

Thankfully, he was so endearing and adorable that you couldn't help but laugh.

“They’re very sexy” you teased, closing the space between you with a smirk on your face, doing your best to keep the giggled bubbling up in your throat at bay as you draped your arm over his shoulder.

“Oh yeah, you think?”

Columbus’ voice came in the same teasing tone as your own, his eyebrows wiggling as he looked at you, jaw tight to hold in his own laughter.

This was just too much for you both.

“Absolutely” you smiled, leaning forward just enough to capture his lips with your own as the best way to punctuate your point. They weren’t really all that sexy so much as you just liked him, but he wasn’t about to split hairs over it.

He was just glad to be kissing you, in all honesty.

However, the moment was over as quickly as it started because from somewhere behind you, someone else had entered the room and wasn’t about to leave you to it.

After all, Tallahassee was just doing his best to keep his head from exploding as he took in the sight of you, his daughter, in a heated make out with his most pathetic acquaintance.

It wasn’t happening.

He was sure it wasn’t.

The more viable conclusion was that he’d fallen somewhere and given himself a concussion, inducing hallucinations, or maybe he was dead. Anything would be easier to accept than what he was looking at.

“Oh fuck no”

Those three words were practically inaudible at first, but that too was short lived because once he’d realized that what he was seeing was really happening, that was when the yelling started.

...and once he started, it was hard to get him to stop.

In fact, by the time you’d turned around, fully separating from Columbus, your father was already red in the face.

Evidently, today was the day.

You were never going to hear the end of this.

“HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN HIDING THIS FROM ME? I MEAN, ANYONE WOULD HAVE BEEN BETTER THAN HIM? WHAT HAPPENED TO MY RULES? THAT WAS THE ONE THING I ASKED-”

There was no good way for this to end, which you and Columbus both knew. Even as you looked at him, eyes wide, Tallahassee kept going. He couldn’t imagine how this had happened right under his nose.

As far as he knew, the two of you didn’t even get along but clearly that wasn’t the case. He wasn’t born yesterday, and he knew what kissing like that meant.

That wasn’t a passing smooch or a casual make out out of boredom. This was something the two of you had been maintaining for quite some time, and that was the worst part of it all.

You had been lying to him.

“Buddy, calm down. It’s not that big of a deal” Columbus tried, practically shouting into the void with his suggestion. Though, as soon as he spoke, Florida stopped his rant in its tracks.

Which wasn’t a good sign.

“Oh no, not gonna happen buddy” he spit back, momentarily making you glad he’d left his gun in the van. If he had it right now, there was no telling what would happen.

Tallahassee was angry, in general, but this was something different. For him, this was more of a betrayal than something that would make him angry, which made it so much worse.

He just couldn’t believe this was happening.

All you knew was that someone had to do something before this escalated much more and ruined the entire thing you all had going on. You were a family, but if you didn’t step in, there wouldn’t be anything left.

Clearly, Columbus wasn’t the one to fix this whole thing.

“Okay, can we just talk about this like adults please? I’m a grown up, remember?” you hummed, intentionally keeping your voice calm to keep this from escalating that much more.

Over everything else, you were sure he was more upset with you. At its core, this issue was about you growing up and doing something you shouldn't have done.

It had very little to do with Columbus himself.

If it had been anyone else, Florida would have been just as upset.

“Oh, you’re a grown up, well then, what am I even doing here?” he grumbled, completely ignoring the male at your side now, his focus completely on your face.

Objectively, he knew you were right. Even with as much as the world around you had changed, you had too. You weren’t a little girl anymore, clinging onto his pant leg and crying every time he left your side.

You were a grown woman, which was hard enough for a father to grasp, but this was something else entirely.

You weren’t allowed to be with him.

You just weren’t.

“That’s not what I meant. I just don’t get why it's such a big deal” you huffed, shoving your hands into the pockets of your jeans, where you could hide the anxious tapping you got up to.

All you were doing was seeing someone who you really liked and while having your literal father walk in on an impromptu make out wasn’t ideal, it also shouldn’t have been the end of the world.

He used to date plenty, before most of the population died out.

“Because it is. I told you not to do it, and you did” Tallahassee grumbled, crossing his arms, his words leaving his lips in a traditional dad fashion.

That was always his go to thing, even when you were a kid.

You can’t do that because I told you not to.

It might have worked out well when you were six years old and trying to tie your opposing shoelaces together but not anymore.

Now, the world was literally crumbling around you and you all faced death on a daily basis. If the worst thing you got up to was falling in love with a man who carried a tiny purell in his pocket, you didn’t get why that was such a problem.

Out of all the men you could have chosen, even before the end of the world, Columbus was by far the best.

He was sweet, smart, and cared about you more than anyone ever had in your life. By all accounts, you were lucky and while you felt bad for lying to Tallahassee about being with him, you wouldn’t have done anything differently.

Being with him was important to you, and you loved him.

Nothing was going to change that.

“I love him, okay? That’s why I didn’t want to tell you, because I knew this was how you would react” you sighed, finding it almost impossible to not just give up completely.

You knew that no matter what you said, it wouldn’t make a difference. Once Tallahassee had made up his mind, there was nothing you could do to change it.

As much as you would have liked for him to be supportive of your relationship, you weren’t going to stop seeing the man you loved just to appease him.

It just wasn’t going to happen.

It would seem that if there was any time for you to act like your father and take on his stubborn nature, it was now. You just weren’t ready to lose Columbus.

Not now, and not ever.

221 notes · View notes

donutloverxo · 4 years ago

Text

Tainted

*gifs not mine*

Please note that my work is not to be reposted or published anywhere other than my Tumblr or AO3 account without my permission. Reblogs are most welcome though!

Note - this is inspired by a hc @sweater-daddiesdumbdork once wrote me and gave me a frigging murder kink. Life ruiner😡😡

Dividers by @whimsicalrogers

Summary - Steve saves you and plans on never letting you go again.

Warnings - 18+ only, smut(m/f), kidnappings, being held hostage, murder, blood, non descriptive violence, captain kink, slight murder kink.

Pairing - Steve Rogers x reader

Word count - 6.8k

Masterlist is linked in the bio!

One of the most amazing thing about living with you was that Steve never had to come home to an empty house. He was now responsible for you, he’d have to shoot you a text message, he had gotten pretty good at texting, thanks to your guidance, or call you, he definitely liked calling and hearing your voice better. He’ll always be old school.

You’d get that slight waver in your voice as you tried to pretend that you weren’t sad, he could see your cute little pout through the phone. And while he would never want to cause you any sort of pain, knowing that you’d be waiting for him, that you’re missing him when he’s away, made him feel wanted.

That even someone like him deserved love and happiness and a safe, boring life. That may be there was a reason he died only to wake up again in a strange new world.

That wasn’t to say you didn’t come with your own set of challenges. You were messy if anything, leaving clutter everywhere and putting off doing your dishes and laundry for days. Maybe not the most practical but definitely the cutest roommate in the world.

He’d learn to put up with it because it was worth it. Maybe, he could even learn to 'let loose' a little as people always recommended to him.

At first, he couldn’t wait to ask you to marry him. He had even impulsively bought a ring with your birthstone, he knew you were obsessed with them and astrology and maybe even dark magic. But then you surprised him with a date to an old diner and introduced him as your boyfriend to your friends.

He liked your friends quite a lot, he couldn’t really understand what they were talking about half the time. From what he could tell - by their fascination with his muscles and all the touching and squeezing to his biceps, them wanting to hear about his life before the ice - it seemed that they liked him too.

But hearing you call him that, your guy, your boyfriend, your beau, as your friend Stacey had put it, he decided that he wasn’t quite ready to let go of this blissful courting period. He was rushing things.

He needed to live in the moment and just enjoy being your boyfriend for now, he had all the time in the world to wife you up - preferably not to late though.

He was so unbelievably happy, ecstatic to see you, to surprise you, his mission ending a week early he got home as soon as he could. He thought of maybe taking you to Vermont for the weekend, he had never been but Nat told him it’d be a nice little getaway and that you’d love it.

His wide smile slowly fade away as he looked at the state of his door - the latch broken. Forced entry. Somebody broke his door in. He pushed the door wide open and made his way in.

He knew what was to come next but he willed that thought away. Maybe you kicked it in yourself, maybe you forgot your keys. He kept telling himself that because he was terrified of thinking the alternative.

He stepped in as soon as he was able to shake himself out of his haze. Looking at the state of his, and your, apartment. A broken vase, and the coffee table smashed in.

Crouching down to take a closer look he saw some blood on the ceramic. Whoever did this to your home, better hope that it’s wasn’t yours.

He got up, directing his simmering rage towards his new mission. He didn’t panic, not yet, he couldn’t give himself that kind of luxury. His mind coming up with ten different to find you and make the bastards who did this pay.

NOBody can hurt the people he loves, especially his girl, and get away with it.

***

Your eyes fluttered open before scrunching shut to adjust to the harsh fluorescent light. You blinked, looking around you while squinting.

Some sort of empty grey room... a window to the side but it was dark outside. You dress sticking to your skin as your whole body was covered in a sheen of sweat.

Three men in a corner, one for them shouting at the others in a foreign language.

You felt a yip of pain radiating in your arms and then realised they were tied up behind you - strapped to a creaky chair.

You tried to shake free of them, by wiggling your wrists but then winced at the burn it caused, capturing the attention of your kidnappers.

One of them smiled at you, walking towards you.

“Finally awake, are we?” he asked in an abnormally chirpy way. “You were out for quiet some time. Did you sleep well?”

He squatted before you, you could see his face, his cold grey eyes betraying the warm smile that graced his lips. Many white scars littered over his jaw...

And then you remembered.

How you rushed home when you felt someone was following you. Locking the door, you tried to call Steve but couldn’t get through to him.

And then your stalker broke into your home. You tried to smash his head in with a vase but couldn’t really do any real damage. Everything was hazy after that. Maybe he drugged you - you couldn’t recall.

You exhaled shakily when you realised he was watching you both from the corner. You could never forget his dark hoodie and hair. Or fresh cut on his forehead. You had never so much as hurt a fly or even slapped anyone. How you managed to smash his head in you’ll never know.

You looked at the man before you again when you heard him calling out your name, his smile haltered for a moment as he looked back to your stalker.

“I’m sorry about that, he’s a rookie. He’ll be reprimanded soon enough. This wasn’t exactly our plan but we’ve decided to improvise.”

You tried to speak but with your throat and mouth dry and your mind in shock the words wouldn’t come out.

“Oh, that’s alright, don’t struggle. We don’t want anything to do with you, you’re just a normal plain Jane going about your life, aren’t you?”

You could only give him a weak nod, still trying your best to shake yourself free of your bounds without him noticing.

“That’s right. You haven’t done anything wrong, you don’t deserve to have anything bad happen to you, do you?”

You nodded again. Your breath hitched when he got closer to you, in your face, his hands planted on your bare thighs with your skirt pooled just below your hips.

“But we don’t always get what we deserve. You’re close to the Captain, that’s right Michael’s told me all about how taken he is with you. I mean... I never would’ve imagined Captain America would pick someone like you but to each their own,” he cupped your cheek, the cracks in his palm harsh against your soft skin.

“What do you want?” you asked, not looking away from him.

“I want justice. For things to be in the right order. You’ll have to suffer for it, but know that it’s for a good cause.”

“You’re wrong,” you shook your head, “he’ll come for me.”

“We’re counting on that,” he snickered.

You’re not sure what came over you, all you knew was that you wanted his disgusting hands off of you, “He’ll come for me, and then you’ll regret ever touching me.”

“Uh, I don’t know about this,” you pulled on a thread from your skirt with your right hand, your other hand in Steve’s as he held onto your waist, pulling you into his side. “It’ll be inside me?” you shuddered.

“Yes, but,” Bruce scratched his head, he was adorable like that. You never would’ve imagined him to be the hulk, a 'rage monster’. “it’s not as bad as you think. You won’t even feel it. All shield agents and Avengers have one. Except Thor, because that wouldn’t be of any use. The radius is only on earths surface. You would’ve thought that would be enough,” he chuckled.

You pressed your lips in a thin line, looking at the chip, smaller than an acrylic nail, watching Bruce load it up.

“I know it’s not ideal, doll. But I’ll feel much better knowing I can find you, in case something goes wrong.” He kissed your temple, as you braced yourself.

“Will it hurt?” you gulped as Bruce lined the shooter or gun, by the looks of it, to your forearm.

“Just a little. You’ll barely feel it.” He gave you a sympathetic smile.

“Look at me, pup,” Steve gripped your chin, moving your head till you looked into his blue eyes, he pressed his lips to yours, massaging your tongue with his to distract you.

“Mm,” you winced and moaned into his mouth when you felt the piercing pain. It was like getting a flu shot but you had never having been a huge fan of needles either.

He released his hold on you as Bruce worked on cleaning your the blood seeping through your pierced skin. “You did good.” Steve said.

“Do I get a sucker?” You asked Bruce and he chuckled - as if you were joking, you do not joke about candy, “No I really want one.”

“Let’s keep this between us.” Steve told you both.

“Of course,” Bruce nodded, “I can keep tracker dormant till we need it but are you sure?”

“I’m not sure who I can trust.” But he knew he could trust his teammates.

You sniffled, keeping your tears at bay because really something so little shouldn’t make you cry, rubbing your hand over your wounded bicep as Bruce handed you some gummy bears.

“They’re Tony’s. He leaves snacks everywhere, it’s annoying.”

“Thank you.” You blinked up at him and offered some to Steve.

You never thought you’d need it. Until now, you were sure your friends or your mother would notice that you’ve been gone and Steve will find out and track you down. You knew he would. He had to.

He frowned, his nails digging into your cheekbones, pluckering your lips, “Where’s all that confidence coming from?” he quirked a curious brow up, “He’ll walk right in and pay for everything he’s done,” he snorted.

“You’re way underprepared to take someone like him on,” shut up, shut up, shut up, why the fuck are you egging him on? “He’s strong, he’s a survivor.” Even without the serum, he survived an abusive household, being bullied, being sick, and you knew how protective he could be. To the point where it was downright irritating.

“We’ve got all the time in the world to prepare, you should be worrying about yourself,” he spat.

You had always been bold, even in the most inappropriate of situations. Like when you lectured a boy for over an hour on respecting boundaries for throwing spitballs at you, in kindergarten. Steve even said that he fell for that ‘spunk' in you.

‘Well-behaved women rarely make history’ your mother had told you.

And really, you liked that about yourself as well. You liked that you found a man that would encourage that side of you instead of calling you ‘difficult’ or ‘bossy’.

However, you immediately regretted everything you had said. Not because it was untrue, but because your captor took out a sharp pocket knife, a dark glint in his eyes.

“We only need you alive,” he said as you gulped, “I suppose, it wouldn’t matter if you’re missing a finger or two.”

You frantically shook your head, choking on a sob. “No,” you pleaded, “you’ll... he will find me and you will - ”

“Go to prison at best. It’s a risk we’re all willing to take,” he put the blunt end of the knife against your cheek, “We have to do something to kill the time.”

You couldn’t breath, your heart hammering in your chest, what if he doesn’t come for you? You won’t be able to do anything about it. It wasn’t like you could protect yourself, at least in this situation, all you could do was wait for him.

You shut your eyes, and braced yourself for the pain. Except... it never came, you simply heard someone fall down, some sort of clattering sound.

Upon opening your eyes you saw one of his friends face down before your in the corner, the other guy, your lovely stalker, drawing out his gun, looking at the only window to your left. You swore you a saw a glimpse of a flying disk knocking your stalker out.

The man before you cursed under his breath, “Get. Up. Come on!” he ordered.

“Yeah, if I could do that I probably would’ve,” you snarked, still trying to get your aching wrists free.

You barely even registered - who could only be your Captain - sneaking up behind him, snapping his neck with his hands in a matter of seconds. He collapsed on the ground and you could finally see Steve.

His clenched jaw and cold eyes softened up on seeing you, you couldn’t help but let out a sob as you realised you were going to be free.

“You’re okay, sweetheart, it’s okay,” he soothed you, kissing your forehead before swiftly free your hands.

You stood up on wobbly legs, holding onto his arms for support, “Steve,” you breathed out, “you came for me.”

“Of course I did,” he sighed, gently pushing your face against his chest as he hugged you close to him. “As if I’d ever abandon you,” he smoothed a hand over your back and decided to not dwell on your comment. This wasn’t about him, you were in shock.

“I was so scared,” you sniffled, “he said, he - ” you couldn’t even finish your sentence as you broke down in a fit of sobs and hiccups.

“You’re safe now,” he promised.

“You - did you kill him?” you pushed away from him to look up at his face so you could take him in.

You had never seen him in his uniform. Only ever seeing him on the news but he had his cowl on and a suit that was much more on brand for ‘Captain America’ than the darker one he had on now. It made him look bigger - if that was even possible. Bigger than the shield now strapped to his back.

His usually clean shaven face had the faintest shadow to it while his hair was slicked back. He looked beautiful, so soft and innocent, definitely not someone who’s capable of hurting anyone.

“He hurt you,” he replied, bringing your hand up to his lips and kissing your bruised wrists, “and so many others, he got what was coming to him.”

“You knew him?”

“Yes. He got away the last time we tried to catch him - but we don’t have to talk about that right now. Are you hurt anywhere else?”

You shook your head, “No, I’m just thirsty and I really want to lay down,” you murmured, resting your head on the star in the middle of his chest.

He pressed a hand to his ear, letting his team know that he had found you. You vaguely saw agents clad in black gear storm the room.

“We did a sweep of the place. No one else is here,” Natasha said. “How you doing?” and then frowned when you didn’t respond.

“She’s tired. It’s okay, love,” he kissed your temple, snaking a hand under your knees and picking you up with ease.

You weakly nodded, wrapping your hands around his neck, glad to be babied by him because you didn’t have the strength to stand.

“They didn’t give you anything to eat?” Nat scoffed as you shook your head.

“How long have I been here?” you looked at Steve, struggling to stay awake.

“A day and a half. We’ll get you fixed up,” he swore, carrying you towards the quinget.

“Where are we?” you nuzzled your nose against the rough kevlar of his suit.

“Bermuda,” he said.

“Oo, I’ve always wanted to come here... just maybe not like this,” you chuckled but Steve didn’t find it all that amusing. You cupped his cheek in your palm, hoping to maybe calm him down a bit before falling asleep.

***

You vaguely heard a familiar voice calling out your name, you’d recognise it anywhere, it was one of your favorites, one you’d known your entire life.

“Mom?” you muttered, opening your eyes and looking around the room to look for her. You smiled when you saw her sitting on a chair just beside your bed, the faint, annoying beeping told you that you were probably in a hospital.

“Hey there, honey,” she smiled back at you, her eyes misty as she pressed her lips to your cheek. “Do you have any idea how much you scared me?”

“I’m sorry,” you tried to sit up as she fluffed your pillow up to support you. “I was... um... kidnapped.” Saying it out loud made it feel so ridiculous. Never in your wildest dreams would you have thought.

“Yes, Steve filled us in on everything. So, Captain America, huh?” she raised her brows.

“Yeah,” you chuckled nervously. Doing a once over to your large, mostly white room to look for him. He wouldn’t just up and leave you, would he?

“How long has it been going on?” she asked.

“Um, three or four months?” you winced when you realised just how much trouble you were in.

“And, you live with him. Linda filled us in on everything. You’re quitting your job too now.”

“It’s - it’s not as bad as it sounds...”

“Never mind that, you need to rest. Then you won’t have to worry about all this. I’m taking you home with me. And you’re never coming back here again.”

“What? No! I still have over two years of school left.”

“You can do it online! You can find just as a good a job in Queens.”

“No! I’m not coming,” you whined.

“Well, you’re not living with a man you barely know either.”

You were interrupted by a knock on the door. A doctor entering, apologising for disturbing you and Steve right behind her. He still hadn’t changed out of his suit.

He stood at the end of your bed, squeezing your foot to let you know he was there for you as your mother glared daggers at him.

“Looks like you’re doing good. Blood sugars back to normal as well...” the doctor said, “You’re free to go home.”

“Really?” you smiled. So done with everything. Sleeping in your own bed sounded like heaven.

“Yes, let us know if you need anything.” She looked over your chart again and then left.

“Good then, you can come home now.”

“No! I’m going to my apartment in Manhattan, the one I share with Steve.” You rolled your eyes. Pleading Steve to back you up with your eyes.

He cleared his throat, “Um, ma'am, you can come stay with us, if you like.”

He held your mothers gaze, to let her know that he was serious and earnest.

He knew he wasn’t perfect by any means. He had a million flaws and cuts that ran deeper than anybody would ever know but he always thought, or maybe arrogantly assumed, that if nothing else he was someone ‘you take home to mama’ as Clint had once put it. He thought that your parents, like most, would like him. That he’d easily get their blessing to be with their daughter. He was known to be America’s golden boy after all.

But your mother had ripped him a new one as soon as she saw him. Accusing him of abusing his power to woo you. That you were here because of him. That he’s not worthy of you.

And all he could do was stand there and take it because everything she had said was the truth. He didn’t deserve you, you were captured and possibly traumatised because of him.

At the same time, he couldn’t just let you go. Not till he gets to the bottom of who had hurt you and makes sure that you’re safe from now on.

“No, thank you.” She scoffed, looking back at you and shaking her head. “What are you doing with your life?”

“I’ve made a lot of mistakes but being with Steve definitely isn’t one,” you looked over to him, he looked just as tired as you, “I just want to go home. My home with Steve.”

“Fine, I’ve always let you make your own decisions.” she sighed, finally giving in.

“And I’ve never disappointed you.”

“That’s debatable,” she snorted, “I’ll come check on you tomorrow then. Maybe send me your address. You know? Something you should’ve done months ago.” She returned to glaring at Steve.

“I’ve only been living with him for a month!” you tried to defend yourself.

***

“I can take off my own clothes, Stevie,” you giggled, him kneeling before you to help you out of the sweets the med bay gave you. Your dress was dirty and ragged now. “I really liked that dress though. I don’t have many like it. You think we can get it back?”

“Maybe, I’ll see what I can do, doll,” he kissed your bare thigh before rolling your panties down your legs.

“You’re kinda dirty too,” you remarked, sniffing him. He didn’t smell bad, as if Steve would ever smell bad to you. Just a bit of gunpowder, like that of firecrackers, a bit pungent instead of his normal piney and woodsy scent.

“Thank you,” he deadpanned before cracking a smile, “I was just excited to see you. Or I would’ve showered before coming home and then I didn’t get a chance to.”

He worked on unbuttoning your shirt He insisted on you getting a button up instead of a t-shirt considering how sore your arms were from being toed up for so long. Tied up... like an animal.

“Hey,” you whispered softly, caressing his cheek, “come back to me.”

“Sorry, I’m just... I don’t know,” he shook his head. He couldn’t let you know the guilt and despair he felt, you’d end up comforting him instead of the other way around. “It’s just been a long day.”

“Yeah. Still can’t believe any of this was real.” Running your hands up and down his suit, the feel of the material almost soothing to touch. “You wanna shower with me?”

“Don’t know, doll. That showers pretty small.”

He did have a pretty generous salary but opted to live in a more modest apartment, he never took more than he needed anyway, with a small shower. Not too small, but definitely not big enough for you both.

“We’ll make do, come on. I’ll make you squeaky clean.”

He took over ten minutes to get rid of the suit. You watched intently as he removed more latches than you could count.

“Is it bulletproof?” you wanted to know.

“Yes. But probably not as good as a vest. I’ve never been shot so I wouldn’t know.” He answered, taking off his undershirt.

“It’s funny because I always thought y’all were naked under there,” you chuckled, and then your jaw dropped as he took off his briefs.

You had never seen his cock while it was soft before. He was always more than excited when you got to him. It was amazing how pretty he looked either way.

“You and so many other people,” he almost shuddered at the thought of having been asked the same question so many times.

After making sure the water was hot enough, you both stood under it.

You took some of the lavender wash you had bought from lush, squeezing it on your sponge. Steve, bless him, was amazing at so many things. Shopping - it seemed was not one of them. All he had in his bathroom was a bar of soap, one toothbrush and a vintage straight razor.

Which just won’t do for you, so you took it upon yourself to stock the whole place up with your favorite stuff. The lavender being Steve’s favorite, you remembered how flustered you got when he told you that you smelled good. And then tried to explain that you always smell good while turning redder than a tomato.

You did his front, asking him to bent his neck a bit so you could wash his hair because he was almost a foot taller than you. You were about to do his legs, you’d take any excuse to feel up his thick thighs but he told you he’d do the rest himself.

Taking the sponge from you, he ran it under some water, working on cleaning you thoroughly. Under your arms, your breasts, your stomach, between your legs and then your legs.

You were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen - he knew that since the moment he had met you. But something about washing you up like that felt so intimate even though there was nothing erotic about it.

After washing you thoroughly he wrapped you up in a towel, “My cute lil' burrito,” he booped your nose.

You puffed your cheeks out, you weren’t sure if you liked that nickname. Observing just how gentle he was with you, helping you into a cotton nightie, as opposed to drying himself off hastily and carelessly before pulling some sweats and briefs on.

“Don’t wear a shirt,” you pleaded, he looked amazing shirtless, but that wasn’t the only reason, you really liked feeling his skin on hours, pressing kissing on his perfect, smooth, golden skin, ”pretty please.” Right now, he’d give you anything you wanted and you intended on milking that as much as you can.

“Alright, doll,” he replied, pulling you up in his arms again as if you were his bride, as you giggled so sweetly, “now, what would you like to eat? No take out, it has to be healthy. And remember my culinary skills are limited,” he said, carrying you to the living room and putting you on the couch as he started working in the kitchen.

“Stevie, I’m not hungry. Well, that’s not true, I’d like some ice cream,” fluttering your lashes at him, “Mint chocolate chip? I’m pretty sure we have some.”

“Of course, puppy,” you smiled, at the prospect of getting a sweet treat and the nickname, “as soon as you eat something.” He added and you huffed in annoyance.

He whipped up a sandwich for you, two for him because he was starving, some peach iced tea so you wouldn’t eat his ear off while complaining.

You only picked at your food, giving more than half of it to him. You truly didn’t feel like eating, instead craving some cuddles with him.

You tried striking up a conversation with him multiple times. Not because you didn’t like silence. You did when it came to him, you could go hours without talking and it would feel so serene and perfect. You never had to talk just for the sake of it when you were with him.

But you had come to read Steve pretty well. He seemed distant and closed off. The air around you both thick with tension. You tried to ease it while telling him about how brave you were while quitting and didn’t cry at all, how Tony dropped by and was apparently stalking you - which was a bad idea because it seemed to make him angry, clench his jaw tight, his brows furrowed as he placed your plates in the sink.

Unsure if you had done something wrong or were mean to Tony, who was technically his boss, you twiddled with your fingers, “Um... I - I’m sorry,” you stuttered, trying to hold back tears. Spending the night at your mom’s house sounded like the better choice now.

“Hm?” he looked back at you, he could do the dishes tomorrow, “what for?”

“I shouldn’t have been snarky with Tony. I know he’s your boss and all that but he’s kinda cocky... And I got really mad when I found out he did like a ‘background check' on me. I mean I get why he would but still. I can apologize to him.”

“No no,” he shook his head, kneeling before you, taking your hands in his, “you misunderstood, love. I’m not mad at you, I could never REALLY be mad at you. It’s Tony I’m angry with, he went behind my back, ambushed you at work.”

“To be fair, you did the same when you asked me out,” you snickered as a blush crept up his neck.

“Right.” He finally cracked a genuine smile placing feather light kisses on your knuckles and the to the bandages on your hands.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” you asked, running your hands through his hair, scratching his scalp lightly with your nails.

“It’s probably better if we don’t talk about it,” he said, laying his head on your lap. Your slight scratching massaging his never-resting head.

“I think we should. My mom said I don’t know you. And to some extent, she is right. I don’t. Maybe I’m just imagining things but... sometimes it feels like you’re holding back.”

He gathered enough courage to look up at you, your almond shaped eyes looking down at his and he knew that he could talk to you about anything. He did. But there will always be that little voice that tells him that he shouldn’t. He would only trouble you.

“Don’t you pride yourself on being honest?” you caressed his scratchy cheek.

He snorted. He really was dense enough to think he was the perfect son-in-law package.

“I just, the way you looked at me, when I killed that man, I’m afraid that you’re scared of me now. That’s the last thing I want. It’s my worst nightmare really.” He leant into your touch.

“Steve, that wasn’t because I’m scare of you. It was because I’m fond of you. You were so strong and brave and you saved me. I liked being the damsel in distress more than I thought,” He chuckled at that, his doubts a bit relieved, “that’s... not all though.” You murmured.

“What is it?” he wanted to know.

“You, um, the fact that you would do that for me... it’s just. I never thought anyone would love me that much.”

“I only regret doing it in front of you. I’m sorry you had to see that or go through any of that.”

“I’m not a child, Steve,” you rolled your eyes.

“Of course not, but you’re you. You’re pure and an angel. I - I’m tainted - tainted by blood, tainted by war - ”

“Steve, that’s not true. You’re not, you’re the pure-est person I know. War and - that doesn’t define you.”

“You wouldn’t feel that way if you knew about all the things I have done, sweetheart.” The sweet nickname he had for you, which now he used in a patronising tone, “I let my best friend die. And I couldn’t do anything about it.”

“What’re you talking about?” you frowned. You heard about Bucky from him and your history textbooks but you don’t remember reading anything like that.

“It’s... something I’m not ready to get into.” He put his forehead on your knee. He knew you loved him but there was only so much baggage you would be willing to accept.

“Okay. You can take your time and tell me if and when you’re ready, baby.” You went back to idly playing with his, “But I need you to know that I love you. Nothing you could ever say will change that. To think that... for a second I thought that you wouldn’t come for me.”

He snapped his head back up, “What?”

“I thought, that you’d be busy with your mission. You wouldn’t even find out I was missing or... you just wouldn’t care enough to come yourself. I mean, I knew you would come, obviously. But you have other more important work...”

“No,” he shook his head, “How could you ever think anything's more important to me than you and your life?”

“Yeah, I was being stupid.”

“You can be a bit silly sometimes, doll.” He nuzzled your tummy, making you giggle. “I’m never letting you out of my sight again. I was so scared I’d never see you again,” he confessed against your nightgown.

“That’d be a bit hard to do. Keeping an eye on me like that. But if it means I get to spend more time with you then I’m down.”

You convinced Steve to let you have some ice cream. He only let you have half a scope, telling you that you’d have trouble sleeping otherwise.

“I’ve been sleeping for most of the last two days.” You tried to argue but it was hard to change his mind once he had it set on something.

You both brushed your teeth together and he stared at you as you went about your night-time skincare routine.

Cleanse, serum, moisturize, sleep mask.

All he did was wash his face and he still looked fucking perfect.

He stayed true to his word, sticking by your side to the point where you had to kick him outside to have some privacy to pee in peace. He was right there waiting for you when you opened the door.

Finally, you were in your cosy bed. Light’s off and cuddled tight with your boyfriend. Your stuffed unicorn and your Captain America plushie to your other side.

With your legs tangled together, you rubbed your feet up and down his legs. Which were unfortunately covered with his sweats.

“Steve,” you whined.

“Yes?”

“Take off these damn pants. They’re hurting my skin. So friggin' prickly.”

“Sorry, doll. I know how precious your skin is.” He sounded like he was mocking you but he followed, pushing his pants away.

“Good?” he asked holding you close to him again.

“Mm-hm,” you hummed against his naked chest. “Let’s sleep like this everyday, please.”

“Sure.” He replied. He liked being a ‘human furnace' for you.

He wasn’t going to fall asleep. Not after everything that happened. He hadn’t slept well in the past week but he was afraid that if he’d shut his eyes for a single moment and you’d be gone. This time, he wouldn’t be lucky enough to find you.

He hadn’t been to crunch or even prayed in a while. Losing his faith a long time ago after all the terrible things he had seen. But he had prayed when he came back found his home to be wreck. He prayed that you’d come back to him because there were some things he just could not control. Nobody could.

After a while he lowly whispered your name. “Are you awake?” he asked.

It was silly but he missed you. Even though you were laying right next to him in his arms - the safest place you could be.

“Yeah. I can’t sleep. Even though I’m so tired.” You yawned. “You okay?”

“Yeah.”

“You sure?” You snorted. “You’re not a good liar, Steven.”

“Can I ask you something? And you can say no if you want I won’t mind.”

“Sure, shoot.”

“Can I, um, have you? I just need to feel you, sweetheart. After everything – I need to know you’re really here.” he was cut off by your lips crashing on his.

You winced when your teeth clamped together but he soothed your upper lip by nipping at it with his tongue.

“Steve,” you panted as he broke awake, shifting under the sheets and pushing the helm of your gown up.

He placed quick open mouthed kisses all over your thighs, over your stretch marks, spreading your thighs further to accommodate his broad shoulders, he made sure to check in with you again.

All you did was push his head towards your heat, begging him to eat your pussy - as if he needed to be told twice.

Swirling and spreading your glistening juices of arousal around your weeping lips, he dove in for his prize. Drawing patterns on your bundle of nerves before sucking at it harshly, he plunged his tongue inside. Lacing his fingers with yours and pinning your hands down by your hips.

You kept desperately pushing your hips up, wanting more. Arching your back up and holding onto his hands tightly as he lightly grazed his teeth over your clit.

“Say my name, sweetheart,” he demanded against your heat, the vibrations sending jolts of pleasure up your spine.

Your orgasm washing over you in waves, electrifying every nerve in your body as you clamped your legs around his head, holding onto him.

He kept lapping you up through it, taking everything you’d give him.

He loved worshipping you - spending as much time as he could between your legs - because you were his goddess but right now, he just needed to feel you.

He climbed up the bed, hovering over you, he pushed two thick fingers inside you mouth till the second knuckle.

“Get them nice and wet, doll.” He instructed.

You moaned around him, making loud suckling noises, “Yesh, Captain,” it came out muffled, what with your mouth full.

“Captain?” he smirked. You had only ever called him that as a joke, he never knew being called that in a salacious way could stroke a fire inside him. Making him them painfully hard in the confines of his tight briefs. He pulled his fingers out of you, pushing his hand down till it was between your legs. Nudging your entrance with them.

“Sorry, it slipped out.” You were too unabashed to feel guilty.

He scoffed, “Say it again.”

Pushing his fingers inside you. Pumping them at a fast pace before you even had a second to think. It was desperate and fast so unlike how it is usually between you both. He needed to be inside you but your needs would always come before his.

“Captain,” you mewled, chewing on your lower lip and holding onto his face. You couldn’t see him clearly in the dark but you still need to look at him. “I told them my Captain would come for me. And you did...” he swallowed your screams with his mouth as you clenched around his fingers.

“That’s right,” he groaned, sucking your slick off of his fingers, “I’ll always protect you. I’ll do anything for you.”

Shaky fingers working on taking his cock out of the hard confines of his uncomfortable underwear. He didn’t waste a single second before sinking inside you, as deep as he could. He moaned into your neck, “So fucking tight, doll. Like you were made for me,” he bit your neck.

Drawing his hips back he thrusted inside you, brushing against your g-spot, making you keen.

He stopped immediately, propping himself up on his elbows he looked down at your hooded eyes. “You alright, sweetheart?”

You nodded, “Yes, it’s just so good,” as if to prove it you clenched around his length, to make him feel all of you just as he was doing to you.

He groaned at that, his balls already tightening, aching for release, “What’s the safe word?”

“Mm... buttercream.”

“That’s right, good girl,” he cooed as you whimpered at his praise as he withdrew his hips again, loving you in a slow soft way.

Pushing your gown up till it was above your breasts - he didn’t really have the patience to properly take it off. He sucked a spot just above your breast, so you’d remember his love every time you looked at it. Your nipples pebbled and goose bumps painted your skin, with your cunt tight around him he knew you were close.

Wrapping his mouth around one bud, He pulled and pinched at the other. He stopped his ministrations, he needed to look at you as you climaxed. To know that you needed him at least half as much as he needed you.

Your face scrunched up as you met your bliss, your nails drawing blood from shoulders - not that he cared in the slightest.

His hips retracting and thrusting as he lost all sense of rhythm and finesse chasing his end as you laid boneless beneath him. He kept fucking into you, filling you to the brim.

He heaved above you, making sure not to collapse on top of you. Reluctantly he pulled himself out of you.

Pulling you close to him, his lips pressed up against the crown of your head, he whispered sweet nothings to you. “My brave girl.” He kissed the tip of your nose. “You’re so strong, sweetheart.”

“Stronger than the hulk?”

“Yes, definitely,” he replied, tracing the bandages wrapped around your wrists. “Now try to get some sleep.”

“Oh, I’ll sleep alright. Thanks to you.” You giggled.

***

tags will be in the reblog.

this was my longest fic!i know it wasnt the best conclusion to something i drew outover 4 chapters but its the best i could do. sorry for weird format tumblrs mad i had too much fun lol. comments and reblogs are really appreciated!!

#the donut series #steve rogers x reader #chris evans x reader #steve x reader #captain america x reader #steve rogers x you #marvel x reader #avengers x reader #berry writes

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fairytalesofthewind · 4 years ago

Note

Can I request The Avengers with winged!male!reader, who is a new member of their team? Reader is a ball of joy and love, he's like everyone's kid, until he gets snatched by Hydra agents and later is found with one of his wings cut off, leaving a permanent and ugly scar on his back. After that he shuts down completely, lays in his bed all day long and doesn't talk to anyone : he became a wreck of the person he used to be.

I really would like to see The Avengers helping him cope and Tony coming up with some crazy idea, which lead to Reader receiving a prosthetic wing and once again becoming an official member of The Avengers.

Anon, you are a true genius!

warnings: hydra (so also torture, a bit of gore, and kidnapping)

+ implied Stucky

I called the male reader Icarus, you’ll find out why ;) I may be a little bit too obsessed by mythology. Sorry that I didn’t write with ‘you’.

wordcount: 2424

Requests are open!

Icarus was found by shield at age 15. He had been an experiment of hydra for 3 years. He remembered the day the Avengers had infiltrated the facility where the majority of hydra worked. He remembered hearing the explosions and screams while he was trapped in the many cells of the building’s basement. The only occupied cell what that of his.

He had felt his surroundings shaking, had felt the dust falling on him as the building was ready to collapse. And then the bombs stopped getting fired. The screams had stopped. Icarus had thought the fight had completely stopped and that the people were either dead or that the people had fled. Icarus had thought no one was coming for him, and that he was trapped in his cell, no way to escape.

But then he had heard a single loud bang. It came from the door leading to the basement. He saw that the metal door had an imprint of a fist in it. Then he heard another loud bang, and saw how the imprint expanded. After a few more hits, the door gave away and fell to the floor.

A man with a metal came walking up to him. Icarus knew who he was, emphasis on was. Because the man ushering towards him wasn’t the Winter Soldier anymore. That was what the agents had told him.

“Hey kid. Hang on in there, we’ll get you out as soon as possible.” He said and came closer and inspected the outside of his cell. More specifically, the keypad in front of it. “Hey Stark, I’m gonna need your help here with some tech.” Bucky came even closer to his cell and Icarus’ eyes widen as his hands neared the glass.

“Stop!” Icarus yelled. Bucky froze at the command, and dragged his eyes up slowly to the panicked boy in front of him. “You can’t touch the glass.” Icarus warned him, his tone a bit softer. “It’ll trigger the alarms and then gas will come out of the ceiling.” Bucky frowned looked up at the top of the cell. In each corner was a camera, along with a small metal tube coming out of the walls. He supposed that the gas would come out of there.

“Is the gas deadly?” He asked the boy, there were probably going to trigger the alarms trying to get him out. But they would have to find another way if the gas is really dangerous.

“No,” Icarus started, “it just makes me go to sleep.” Bucky nodded as stepped away from the glass container. They would have to wait for a few minutes until help – the help being Tony- arrived.

“So…” The boy drawled out, “Are you really a 100 years old?” He wanted to look at Icarus with a ‘are you serious’- look but as he saw the curiosity written on his face, he responded a soft smile.

“I’m 106 years old.” He felt a pang of amusement as he watched Icarus’ eyes widen.

“Isn’t that a bit weird?” Bucky tilted his head, silently asked the boy what he meant by that. “You know…with friends, and lovers. You’re much older than them.”

Suddenly Stark entered the basement and said: “Well, Bucky doesn’t have any problem with that seeing as his boyfriend is also a super soldier and also very old.” He strutted over to the keypad on his cell. Icarus stared at him with wide eyes because – oh my God this is The Tony Stark.

“Friday baby, tell me how to get the angel out.” He said. Icarus blushed a bit, most of the agents didn’t call him an angel because of his wings. But rather demon. He didn’t which one fit the best seeing as he had neither white wings, nor black, but brown wings.

Tony was quiet for a few long seconds. He looked concentrated, not that they could see his face through the helmet, but his head was tilted just a bit. He let out a loud drawn-out sigh and said: “Yeah, no can do, that’s going to take hours. I’m just gonna blast it.”

Icarus straightened up immediately, if he were to do that he would just trigger the alarms. It wouldn’t do much to the glass either, because it was made of something special. Before Icarus could let out a warning, he heard the zooming of Iron Man’s blasters and then he heard a small explosion.

The boy made eye contact with Bucky after he saw gas coming out of the metal tubes. Just before he slipped into unconsciousness, he picked up the curse words both of the men let out.

Only a few hours later did Icarus wake up. It was very quiet around him, but there was also an unfamiliar sound that he didn’t recognise that made him realise that he wasn’t in his cell anymore. Did the agents change their mind on waiting a few more months to send him on a mission? Did they suddenly decide to get rid of him? Did they-

“Ah, you’re waking up.” The voice was so much more gentle than he was used hearing. It reminded him of how his family used to talk to him.

They were dead now, by the way, with courtesy of hydra.

Icarus opened his eyes and looked to his right where the voice had come from. He recognised the man, he was the Falcon. Sam was still wearing his suit, with his metal wings. Icarus eyes fell to the said wings and frowned.

“You know, you guys are in big trouble.” The people around him straightened up. Already thinking of the possible things the boy could say. There was something you didn’t think about, this was just a distraction and now the shield base has been taken care of properly. You lost-

“These are copyrighted.” Icarus pointed to his own wings. “I could sue you for plagiarism.” Sam lowered his head in relief as he let out a little chuckle.

“I’ll pass it on to the boss.” He said as he looked to the other side of Icarus. The boy followed the line of sight and saw Tony sitting on the other side of him. He was immediately attacked with concerned questions about how he was feeling. Tony told him that they were going to bring Icarus somewhere safe, there were going to give him a home. But all Icarus could think about was, oh my God, this is The Tony Stark.

Icarus was 16 when he started his training. He was done basically living in the hospital wing of the tower. Apparently hydra had really taken a toll on him. Physically and mentally.

He had begged the captain to train him. But Steve had refused time and time again claiming that Icarus wasn’t ready yet.

Between recovery and asking for training, he became friends with Sam. Well, he became friends with everyone. You could even say that he became their family. But it happened with Sam the fastest. Sam took care of him from the start. He visited Icarus every day to check up on him. He helped the boy get comfortable. Icarus saw Sam as a…dad?

They would fly together almost every night. They would soar over countless buildings in New-York. They would stop on skyscrapers and talk about everything and nothing. Sam became his best friend, he became his family.

Icarus was 17 when he realised how much the Avengers truly cared about him. It was his first mission, and the Avengers were acting like overbearing mother hens. It wasn’t even a big mission, it was just to pick something up and bring it from place A to B. But due an unexpected rainstorm Icarus couldn’t fly back. He arrived hours later than he should’ve had at the meeting point.

And to say he had received an ear full about it was an understatement. For the next few days after that mission, he had heard one rant to the other. It was all the same: about how he was precious, about how bad it would be to lose him because he was their family. He was their ray of sun- no scratch that- he was their sun. He was their kid.

Icarus was 18 years and 2 months old when one of his mission went seriously wrong. Sam wasn’t there to support him in the sky. And Tony was needed on the ground. But as multiple planes left to escape, he had to go after them. There weren’t only hydra agents on those plane, but also innocent hostages. Hostages that would probably get used for the same purpose Icarus had been used for.

So he couldn’t just let the planes go. He went after the plane of which he thought was filled with hostages, but was only filled with agents. He had entered the plane just before it’s backdoor had closed. He realised his mistake as he was suddenly surrounded by a dozen men with guns.

One of the men closest to him raised his gun towards him and shot. Icarus felt a sharp prick on his neck and he already knew what was going to happen. Just before he slipped into unconsciousness, he picked up the curse words his family let out on the comms.

Icarus was 18 when he was recaptured by hydra.

Hydra had claimed they had no use for him. They already had a better reproduction of him.

But that didn’t mean that we are just going to get rid of you, no stupid demon boy. We are going to have a bit of fun with you.

Icarus was 18 years and 5 months when he lost one of the most important things of his life.

He lost of one his wings. That means that he not only lost one of his limbs, but he also lost being able to fly.

He wouldn’t be able to do the thing he loved the most, he wouldn’t be able to fly anymore.

Icarus was 18 years and 8 months old when the Avengers had to save him again from hydra. But the boy they saved wasn’t the Icarus that had been captured. He was missing something –besides from the obvious; his wing.

From the moment Icarus had returned home, everything went just a bit worse day by day. He was unhappy, of course he was. Not only had he lost his wing, but he also had a very large scar where it used to be.

He felt terrible. He would spend almost every hour buried under the safety of his blankets in his bed. He didn’t leave his room, no matter how much his family tried to get him out.

One day Bucky entered his room, he brought some tea and breakfast with him. “Good morning, little angel…” The rest he said fell on deaf ears. Icarus had buried himself under his blankets himself.

A few seconds later felt the cold rushing over him. The bed dipped beside him, Bucky sat on the blanket so that Icarus couldn’t use them to hide anymore. But it didn’t really help much as the boy just turned his back to him, his one wing currently hiding himself.

Bucky cleared his throat. “Look, I know how much this sucks. I lost my arm, I know how it feels.” Suddenly Icarus had sat up, and was now looking at him with an angry face.

“You think you know how I feel?!” Icarus pushed him off the bed. They were now both standing with Icarus pointing a furious finger at him. “You just lost your fucking arm! I didn’t just lose my wing, no I lost the thing I loved the most! I can’t fly anymore, and you know whose fault is that?” Icarus kept walking closer and Bucky kept stepping further away from the boy.

“It’s my fault! I was overtaken by my giddiness of the mission and I got distracted, I was too overconfident.” Bucky was almost in the hallway with the way he kept backing up.

“And besides, James. You got a metal arm in return. You can still do everything!” Unlike Bucky, Icarus didn’t have another wing.

And that, had given Bucky an idea.

Icarus was 18 years and 11 months when Tony had dragged him out of his wing towards his lab. He didn’t give him any choice to struggle back, he was coming whether he wanted to or not.

Tony had covered his eyes just before they entered the lab. He had made him sit on a stool. He heard a few nervous coughs, so he knew that the other were there as well.

Tony granted his sight back after a few seconds of rambling something that Icarus was too tired to listen to.

“-and we hope you will like this…”

In front of him, on a stand, was a metal wing. It was a similar size of his own. He had thought: what is the point of a monument? But then Icarus realised that what he was seeing wasn’t just a metal wing, it was also a suit. He felt a few tears roll down his cheek and immediately afterwards felt someone’s arms going around him.

“Oh, it’s alright, angel. It’s going to be alright.” They let him cry his heart out, patiently being there for him.

It was a few days later that Icarus sat in the craftsman’s lab again. Tony was securing the many straps on his new suit. He explained him the rules of the new suit, of what it could and couldn’t do. “Now, Sam will help you fly again. He knows how the metal wing work. My advice for now is to not fly too low, or too high. You don’t want to hurt yourself.”

Icarus was 19 when he was given back the thing he loved most; being able to fly. He was able to be happy again. He picked up the nightly flights with Sam again. Sometimes staying away from the Tower until 5AM. He was almost back to his normal self; he was already back to being the most energetic member of the team, and he showed how grateful he was almost every second of the day.

This night he was sitting on a building with Sam eating his pepperoni pizza.

“You know, you’re in trouble, right?” Icarus looked up at Sam with raised eyebrows.

“These are copyrighted, and you know, I could sue you.” Sam pointed at his metal wings with a small smirk.

“Copyrighted my ass, you can’t beat the original.”

#marvel #marvel x male reader #stucky #angst with a happy ending #greek mythology #the avengers #avengers x reader #male headcanons #male reader #tony stark #bucky barnes

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waywardrose13 · 4 years ago

Text

Night and Day

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 4263

Warnings: Language, witch!reader, mentions and implicaitons of sex, angst, some fluff, not enough editing to satisfy me

Summary: You hid the fact that you were a witch from the Winchester brothers for years. After a run in with an old mentor of yours causes your secret to be revealed, the brothers find out that not only are you a witch, but one of the most powerful in the world. When Dean is given the task to kill you in exchange for his brother’s life, you must face the fact you lied to the man you loved- the same man who hates witches with a burning passion.

A/N: My tags haven’t been working lately. I’m going to put my tags in a reblog. Comment or shoot me an ask letting me know if you got a notification or not. Oh, and also- surprise!

“Dean, I’m serious. We gotta get up.”

You gently nudged at your boyfriend. A smile played on your lips as you felt his arms tighten around you. He whined and let out a long sigh.

“Five more minutes.”

“You said that twenty mintues ago,” you scoffed, smirking down at him. He groaned and lifted his head to look at you.

“You’re a joy killer,” he said.

“A joy killer?” You asked. You raised a brow as your smirk grew. “Really?”

“Yeah, that’s right,” Dean said.

“Right. Okay big boy, up and attem, let’s go. We’ve got that case in Ozark.”

Dean groaned again. “We just got back from a case two days ago.”

“Comes with the job description, honey,” you said. You swung your legs out of bed, placing your feet onto the floor. As you stood up, Dean suddenly wrapped his arms around you again, pulling you back down onto the bed. You squealed as he squeezed your sides, his lips latching onto your throat.

“Wanna stay here with you,” Dean said. He raised his head to kiss your lips. You ran your hand through his hair, his fingers running up your side, raising to cup your breast beneath your shirt.

“Dean, we don’t have time for this,” you said. He peppered kisses along your throat and collarbone, settling on the pulse point below your ear. “As much as I love doing this, we really need to get up.”

Dean halted his movements and lifted his head to scowl at you. He pushed himself up and off you, walking over to the dresser.

“Alright, fine,” he huffed. “Joy killer.”

***

“Of course, it has to be fucking witches.”

You winced at his words. You had been in Ozark for nearly a day now. After interviewing two of the victims who survived the attacks, you had also spoken to the detectives on the case before investigating the victims’ homes. The victims claimed to have been attacked by a shadow figure. The other three victims had been slaughtered in their homes, while the two survivors suffered severe lacerations and what seemed to be burns. You and the brothers were stumped for a while, until you found a hex bag hidden in a vase in one of the homes, and another hex bag stuffed in a couch cushion in the other.

You always hated witch cases. Not only were they dangerous, but they were also conflicting. You were a natural born witch, coming from a long line of witches on your mother’s side of the family. You had the gift of sight, also known as psychic abilities, and you had practiced witchcraft since you were thirteen.

When you had met Dean Winchester, it had been on a ghoul hunt. In those three days, you instantly felt an attraction to him that you couldn’t describe. You never thought he would be interested in you. You saw the women he’d frequent, and you weren’t like them. You were in shape, hunting keeping you fit, however you had some stretch marks, love handles, and thicker thighs than you would’ve liked. You also weren’t the prettiest woman in your opinion. You weren’t ugly, but you were always self conscious of the way you looked. You were sarcastic, cursed like a sailor, and reserved. You had always kept a wall around yourself ever since you were younger, sprouting at early ages due to things you had experienced and seen. You were twenty-four, a virgin, and a bit awkward at times.

Not at all Dean Winchester’s type.

But after meeting up with the Winchesters a few more times, you and Dean slowly became closer, until one night after a hunt, Dean had confessed his feelings for you. He was hesitant at first due to the ten year age difference, but your relationship had quickly blossomed. He was your first real relationship, the first person to ever be with you entirely, the first person to ever hold your heart.

Which is why you never told him about yourself.

Dean hated witches. It was a fact everyone knew. If you were to tell him that you were, in fact, a witch, he’d not only break up with you, but you were afraid he’d hunt you. Although you had never used your abilities for anything other than good, you weren’t entirely sure Dean would be able to trust you after you kept it from him for so long.

You were one of the most powerful witches in the world. Numerous covens have tried to recruit you, but you turned them all down. You were nomadic by nature, a free spirit, and you didn’t want to use your abilities to do someone else’s bidding. So you stuck to yourself. You kept off the radar and hoped your protective hex bags shield sigil tattoos worked. When Dean asked about the tattoos, you had simply told him they were more sigils for protection- like the anti possession tattoo. He believed you without a second thought.

“Okay, so now that we know what we’re dealing with,” Sam began. “We need to find out who. After doing some digging, I found that all of the victims attended the same addiction recovery group.”

“So you think the group is somehow linked to the murders?” Dean asked.

“It makes sense,” you said. “They all had this one thing in common. That’s what we always look for, right?”

“Right. There are only three people left in the group who have not been attacked. Since it’s a support group, anonymity is a requirement. But luckily for us, we have fake badges,” Sam said. “Marcus Wainwright, Brienne Tarly, and Astrid Waters are the only people who haven’t been attacked.”

You froze at Astrid’s name. You knew that name. She was the leader of a coven who tried to recruit you years ago. You turned them down because of the craft which they practiced.

“Who’s the leader of the group?” You asked.

“Uh…” Sam looked at the files. “Astrid.”

“I think it’s her,” you said. The brothers looked at you in question. You mentallykicked yourself. You said it before you could think. “She’s the leader, right?” You tried to cover yourself. “What if she used this group as a way to make sacrifices to whatever that shadow is?”

“That actually makes a lot of sense,” Sam said. “Carla, one of the victims I talked to today, said that Astrid would always try to get the group attendants to recruit more people. Apparently Astrid was always trying to bring more people into the group. Almost like she was obsessed with it.”

“She was trying to get more people to sacrifice,” Dean said.

“Exactly,” you said.

“Okay, let’s find this bitch.”

***

Astrid still lived in the same cottage as she did all those years ago when she tried to recruit you. Cobblestone walls covered in climbing ivy. Black shutters hung off the gothic windows. Various leafy plants grew around the sides of the house. The broken path led to a great wood door. The negative energy rolling off the house made you nauseous, and it took everything in you not to pass out.

You were only sixteen when you met Astrid, only just beginning to truly tap into your true potential when other witches began to feel your energy.

“You’re strong,” she had told you. “Stronger than me. You would be a valuable asset to any coven. A threat to witches below your strength. Others will want to harvest that power for themselves. We can keep you safe. I can keep you safe.”

You could feel her energy was dark. Her aura was an ominous black, a stark contrast from your pure white. You knew she was lying immediately. You threatened her. You were stronger than Astrid, and that pissed her off.

“I can fend for myself, thanks,” you had said.

Astrid had simply smirked at you, patting your hand gently. “We’ll see about that, my dear.”

You never thought you’d run across her again. You had hoped that you wouldn’t run into her again. Not only was she incredibly dangerous to you, but there was a high chance she would spill your secret, and you would not only lose Dean forever, but you would lose your life.

Swallowing back your fear, you trudged through the woods alongside the brothers. You knew you needed to do this. Innocent people were dying. If this was your last night on Earth, you wanted to be able to save them at least.

The three of you ducked below one of the windows. Dean peeked inside, trying his best to stay as hidden as possible.

“She’s in there,” he whispered. “She’s… at an altar. She’s chanting something.”

“Guess we found our witch,” Sam muttered. “Nice, Y/N.”

You gave him a weak smile.

Dean got up in front of the door, gun in hand. You and Sam waited for his call.

“Okay, on three,” he said.

“One… two…”

“Three!”

A new voice echoed around you, the door of the cottage violently swinging open, a gust of wind knocking Dean off his feet. Astrid’s cackle filled the air, and suddenly you began to feel woozy. Dean’s eyes fluttered shut, Sam falling down next to you. You knew it was Astrid, and you tried to fight it off, but soon succumbed to her power as well, your world going dark.

***

“How exciting!”

Head pounding, you awoke to the sound of a female’s voice. Trying to move, you soon found yourself unable to. Your eyelids felt heavy, and your limbs felt numb.

Opening your eyes, you found yourself staring up at the ceiling of the cottage. Astrid’s silver head was bent over you, bright emerald eyes staring into yours, a crooked, elated smile on her face.

“My oh my, I never thought the day would come,” she muttered to herself. A long nailed finger stroked your cheek, and you flinched away.

“Don’t touch her, you bitch!” You turned your head at the sound of Dean’s voice. You smiled weakly immediately at the sight of him, finding yourself incredibly tired.

You felt drained.

You tried to move your hands, finding them strapped to the table you were currently laid out on. Your flannel had been removed, as were your jeans, leaving you in only a tank top and panties. You shivered in the cool air. You hated being exposed like this in front of anyone that wasn’t Dean.

“What are you doing?” You asked weakly. “Let me go.”

Astrid laughed. “Please. You fall right into my hands and you think I’m going to let you go?” She asked. “You’re smarter than that, little fox.”

“Why are you doing this?” Sam asked. “Why did you kill all those people? Why did you sacrifice them?”

Astrid looked surprised. “Oh my, you’re a smart one, aren’t you?” She smiled at Sam, holding a mortar and pestle up over you. She crushed something inside, muttering a few incantations.

“The shadow makes me stronger. The more it's fed, the stronger I become,” Astrid said smoothly. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m a strong witch. Stronger than your average natural born, much stronger. However, there are only two people in the world who are stronger than me.”

Astrid gave you a pointed look.

“The shadow makes me stronger, as I said, but without the power of the other two witches, I will never be the strongest. If I were to siphon their energies from their souls, I would be the strongest witch there ever was and will ever be.”

“Pretty egotistical, eh there, granny?” Dean said. Astrid sneered at him.

“You’ll be the first one to die once I’m done with her, honey,” Astrid said.

“That is if I don’t kill you first, sweetheart.”

“If you only knew what I would be capable of,” Astrid snapped. “One witch has kept herself hidden. The Scottish bitch never can be found.”

“Rowena,” Sam said.

“Oh, you know her?” Astrid said. “Yes, Rowena. Now, the other witch. Well, I met her years ago. She was just a wee lass of sixteen at the time, but she was already so strong. I knew she was going to be a problem for me. I tried to recruit her to my coven, but she was smart. Too smart. I’ve been trying to track her down for years, and I’ve never been able to find her.”

Astrid let out a dreamy sigh. “And then, by the grace of God, she fell right into my hands.”

“If you’ve already killed her, why take the souls of innocents?” Dean asked.

Astrid scoffed. “Oh no, dear. I haven’t killed her yet.”

“Well what’s the hold up? One less witch to worry about. You’ll stop killing innocent people.”

Astrid laughed. She looked down at you. “No idea how you’ve been with the man as long as you did. If I heard that, I’d run for the hills. Or stab him in his sleep.”

“Don’t touch him,” you hissed. Astrid grinned.

“There’s that fire,” she said. She smeared the green paste she made over your chest. You let out a small cry as it burned your skin. She painted a pentacle on you, muttering more incantations.

“Unfortunately, to siphon all of a witch's power, the siphoner cannot kill the siphonee,” Astrid said. “Someone else has to do it after I prepare her, then I could siphon it.”

“Well let’s make you a deal,” Dean said. Your lip wobbled. “If I kill the bitch, letting you siphon her power, you will never kill another person.”

Astrid smiled wickedly. “Really?”

“Sure. One less witch and we save some people.”

Astrid laughed. “Oh that’s too good. I’ll make a blood vow. If I break it, I die.”

“Fine.” Dean nodded at her.

“Give me your word, hunter,” Astrid said.

“I give you my word.”

“That no matter what, you follow through,” Astrid continued.

Dean sighed. “Yeah, fine.”

“Dean,” you said softly. A tear leaked from your eye. “Please.”

He looked at you curiously. Astrid cut his bindings, letting him free.

“He’s not the brightest bulb, is he?” She asked you, laughing.

“Where do I find her?” Dean asked.

Astrid handed Dean a knife. It had a curled handle, various sigils carved into it. She stepped back, folding her arms over her chest.

“Go ahead.”

“You deaf?” Dean asked. “Where do I find the bitch?”

Astrid smirked, running her tongue over her lips.

“Right in front of you.”

The blood drained from Dean’s face. Tears streamed from your eyes now, leaking down your temples onto the wood beneath you. Astrid killing you was one thing. Dean killing you? There was nothing worse you could think of.

“Y/N?” He said. “No fucking way. She’s not a witch.”

“Isn’t she?” Astrid asked. “Go on, Y/N. Show us a little trick.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, wishing this was all a dream. Wishing that you would wake up and you’d be back at the bunker in Dean’s arms.

But when you opened your eyes, Dean still stood there, that curved knife in his hand, Astrid’s evil grin plastered on her face, a shocked Sam watching from his confinement on the wall.

“Fuck you,” you hissed.

“If you don’t show him-” she walked over to Sam, hand on his head- “I blow his brain apart.”

You took in a shaky breath, eyes focusing on the windows. Suddenly, your eyes glowed purple, and the windows shattered. The glass floated up into the air, spinning around and around, wind whipping everyone’s hair. It only lasted a few moments, and when the glass stopped spinning, a heart floated six feet off the ground. It slowly moved towards Dean, and once it reached him, you blinked, eyes going back to their normal E/C, the heart falling to the ground, glass shattering once more, mimicking your own heart.

Dean looked up at you in shock.

“You did that?”

“It’s her best party trick,” Astrid said. “Y/N here is an artist. Unless, of course, she’s blowing a werewolf to pieces with a simple flick of her wrist, or growing a thirty foot tree with the blink of an eye.”

“No,” Dean said lowly. “You lied to me.”

“I was afraid,” you said. “You hate witches. I thought you were going to kill me.”

“You fucking kept this giant ass secret from me!” He yelled. “You lied to me for years! All that time we’ve been together, you’ve been fucking

“Dean, please-”

“How do I know anything you said was true?”

“It all is! You know everything about me, Dean! I just never told you this!” You urged. “Please, Dean. You know me. You know I’m a good person.”

“I don’t know shit,” he hissed. “Have you ever killed anyone?”

“What?” You asked.

“Have you ever killed someone?” He snapped.

“No! I’ve never-”

“Eh, eh, eh,” Astrid said. “Don’t lie to the poor man anymore, Y/N.”

You let out a sob. “It was an accident.”

“An accident?” Astrid exclaimed. “Bursting a man into flames was an accident? Killing a father of four was an accident?”

“Yes!” You said. “I didn’t mean to. I didn’t know how to control myself, I-”

A sharp pain suddenly seared inside your head. You gasped, eyes squeezing shut.

“What are you doing?” Dean asked. Astrid grinned.

“Punishing her,” she answered calmly. You screamed as the pain became so intense, white flashed behind your eyes and your whole body went rigid.

“Stop!” Dean yelled.

The pain was gone instantly. You panted, chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath, sweat mixing with your tears.

“Slit her wrists, Dean,” Astrid whispered. “You swore.”

Dean took the few steps he needed to be right next to you. He looked at the knife, then at your wrist, then at your face.

“Won’t she just heal herself?” He asked.

“Those cuffs around her wrists contain sigils that will prevent any self healing or harm to another person,” Astrid said. “It limits her power. It’s why she hasn’t broken out yet.”

Dean swallowed thickly. He looked at you, eyes searing deeply into your own. An anger burned behind the green you loved so much. It scared you. That anger had never been directed towards you before.

But there was something else as well. Despair. Dean was torn. You were a witch, a powerful one, and you had lied about it for years. On the other hand, Dean was in love with you. He loved you so much, it scared him.

“Do it,” Astrid said. “Do it, or I kill him.”

She was bent down beside Sam now, lips near his ear, eyes burning purple. Dean looked between you and his brother. You knew he’d never choose you over Sam.

“Do it,” you whispered. You nodded at him, giving him a soft smile. “It’s alright.”

“How can you say that?” Dean asked.

“I’ll find my way back to you someday,” you told him. “If not, I’ll simply wait for you.”

Dean bit his lip. “I wish you had told me.”

“I thought you were going to kill me,” you admitted. He shook his head, leaning against the table. He cupped your cheek, thumb wiping away a stray tear.

“Baby, you’re a good person,” he said. “Sure, I hate witches.”

You winced.

“But I could never hate you.”

You blinked a few times. “Even though I’m-”

He pressed his lips softly to yours. His eyes were misty, brows pulled together.

“I could never hate you,” he whispered against your lips.

“Do it, Dean!” Astrid urged. “You’ve got ten seconds.”

“Dean, don’t do it,” Sam said.

“It’s okay,” you whispered. “I’ll wait for you, my love.”

Dean shook his head.

“Five seconds,” Astrid warned.

“I love you, Dean. It’s okay,” you whispered.

Dean looked down at the knife in his hands. He caressed your wrist, bringing the knife down against your skin.

“Three seconds!”

He gave you one last look, moving the knife back-

“Two-”

He jerked the knife-

“One!”

You expected the sting of the blade, but only felt the release of the cuff.

“Man, you should have had some sort of spell on that shit,” Dean said. He smiled darkly at you, giving you a wink. Using your other hand, you flashed your eyes purple, burning the other cuff off.

“No!” Astrid yelled. “What have you done?”

With a simple flick of your wrist, Astrid was flung away from Sam. She crashed into the opposite wall. You slipped off the table, bare feet hitting the cold floor. A wind blew through the cottage, blowing your hair back from your face. You stalked towards her, all the while a smirk grew on your lips, your fingers tingling.

“I haven’t let myself go in so long,” you said. You lifted your hands, seeing the purple glow in your palms and beneath your fingertips. You cocked your head. “All this pent up energy…”

“Y/N-”

“It’s almost like snapping a rubber band,” you muttered.

“Y/N,” Dean said slowly.

Using a blast of power, you forced Astrid’s arms against the wall. Keeping them there, you raised her up until her feet dangled off the floor. You did the same to her ankles, the strain causing her skin to bruise immediately.

“Y/N, wait-”

You forced her head back, a sickening crunch resonating inside the cottage.

“So much power… can be dangerous,” Astrid gasped. Blood dribbled from her mouth and nose, pouring out of her eyes like tears. You forced more pressure upon her, crushing her further. “I was your mentor once… don’t let it consume you… keep your soul pure…”

You crushed her further, your brow raising slightly. You smiled wickedly at Astrid, a dark chuckle leaving your lips. “Rich coming from you,” you said.

“I let it consume me,” Astrid told you. “Don’t… follow in my footsteps.”

You hadn’t used your power like this in years, not since Astrid was your mentor. It sizzled in your veins and made you feel more rushed than ever. It was almost euphoric, the way your body burned with power, power that came from the Earth beneath your feet.

You missed that feeling.

What you didn’t miss, however, was the creeping feeling of darkness. It would intrude your thoughts and darken your mind. The risk of using that much power was the potential that it could consume you, and you would flip darkside.

Like Astrid did.

“See you in hell.”

Using once last surge of power, Astrid let out a guttural scream as her whole body turned an odd shade of red, eyes nearly popping from their sockets, blood streaming from any open source, before she stopped moving.

Letting your power retract, she slumped to the floor.

Dead.

You blinked, letting your eyes return to their natural colour, turning to face Dean.

“You gonna kill me now?” You asked.

Dean swallowed thickly, giving you a small smile.

“No.”

“Why not?” You said. “I’m a monster, right? You hate witches. I am witch. Pretty self explanatory.”

“I’m not going to kill you,” Dean said.

“You can’t pick and choose the monsters you kill and don’t kill,” you said. “You came here to kill a witch. I killed her, now it’s your turn.”

“I’m not going to kill you,” Dean repeated.

You gritted your teeth, sighing deeply. “Fine.”

You walked over to Sam, looking over your shoulder at Dean. With a simple flick of your wrist, Sam was released from his bindings.

“Do it, Sam.”

“Why?” He asked.

“I haven’t let myself go like that in a long time,” you said. “I forgot how tempting it is to give in. I want to do it, Dean. You need to kill me before I do.”

“No,” he said.

“Do it!” You yelled. “Do you really want me to flip? You want me to become like her?” You pointed to the woman you had just killed.

“You won’t,” Dean said. “You’re not like her.”

“Yes,” you whispered. A single tear slipped down your cheek. “I am. I killed that man when I was sixteen because I almost let it win. Who knows what else I could have done if I did.”

“Then we lock you up in the dungeon,” Dean said. “And we bring you back. But you’re good, Y/N. I know you better than anyone.”

Your lip wobbled.

“You still love me?” You murmured. “Even after finding out?”

Dean smiled warmly at you. He took your hands in his, massaging the backs of yours. “Sure, I was pissed you didn’t tell me. Still am, quite frankly. But you’re my girl,” he said. “I know you. I know the kind of person you are.”

“You hate witches,” you pointed out.

“Eh, maybe they’re not so bad,” Dean said, giving you a lopsided shrug. “I mean, I know this one witch. She’s pretty hot, really good in bed-”

“Dean!” You exclaimed, slapping his chest playfully. He laughed, kissing your forehead, bringing you into his chest.

“What can I say? What you did was pretty badass. Not my fault I’m into that.”

You shook your head. “Okay, big boy. If you’re not gonna kill me, let’s go home.”

Dean took a deep breath, leaning down to pick you up bridal style. You gasped, wrapping your arms around his neck to steady yourself.

“Come on, Sabrina,” he said. You gave him a bitch face, making Sam laugh.

“Really?” You asked.

“Oh, I’ve got more,” he said. “Do you have a pointy hat? Or a broomstick? Were you always this color, or were you born green?”

“Yeah, this is gonna be a long ride home,” Sam muttered.

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samuel-de-champagne-problems · 4 years ago

Text

Open Me Carefully

summary: spencer reid and reader are best friends, but don’t realize that they both love each other.

author’s note: crappy summary, but this one is loosely based on gold rush

warnings: none

Open Me Carefully

Maybe it’s the fact that I have a propensity to keep rereading historical romances, or maybe it’s the fact that I just listen to “Lover” way too much for a single person. Or maybe, I’m actually in love with him, my best friend and the only person in this world who I think truly knows me.

I mean, how could I not be completely in love with him. Spencer Reid is the closest thing to perfection. He is kind, brilliant, and unbelievably handsome. It almost hurts me how wonderful he is. But daydreaming about Spencer’s hair falling in his eyes, or his hands grazing across the map spread out on the table, or even his wide smile that slips out when he lets his guard down is not productive to solving crimes.

Unsubs, Y/N. Unsubs. Stop thinking about his hands. And start focusing.

“Y/N/L!” Calls Hotch from across the room. He’s assigned me to locate the birth mother of the potential unsub. He was given up for adoption as an infant, but bounced around from foster home to foster home, never finding a home, and now obsessed with finding his roots.

“Yes, sir, here’s the name from Garcia. Susan Lee gave up her baby for adoption in 1981, she was a just 16 years old, so that would make her-”

“44 years old” Spencer injected.

Hotch gave me a short nod of approval and I cocked my head towards Spencer’s direction, who tried to pull off an innocent look.

“It’s math, Y/N. I can’t help myself,” he explains.

“It’s fine, Spence. Math is like your religion,” I tell him, but what I’m really thinking is it’s you, Spence, and you can get away with anything with me.

“Math, in its purest form, is a beauty known nowhere else” he remarks.

“Who’s that Nietzsche?” I ask him as he beams down at me, twirling a blue permanent mark between his very distracting fingers.

“No, Spencer Reid.” he says as he turns back to the map on the table before us.

Just as I give myself the smallest bit of a second to enjoy the playful banter that falls between us, JJ and Emily come walking in, leading a gruff looking detective with them.

“We think we know where Jacob is hiding out,” JJ starts with a grim look on her face. Emily and the detective walk past her to where Hotch and Derek explain the profile to the SWAT team waiting by.

“His old orphanage, right?” Spencer asks looking up from the map.

“Yeah, and we think he’s going to hold some of the other children hostage,” JJ tells us.

“We need to get there, JJ. But isn't it his mother he wants, not the other children. You’d think that with the profile we came up with, it would make more sense for him to want to save the children, not hold them hostage?” I reason.

“You’re right, Y/N,” Spencer says, coming to a dark realization “he thinks that he’s saving them. He’s Angel of Death” he finishes grimly.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sitting quietly in the jet after the chaos of de-escalating a hostage situation is a calm like no other. We all have routines for the ride home. A quiet ritual that we take the time to be thankful that we’re all here, in one piece, having made the world slightly more safe.

JJ, ever diligent, will work on paper with Hotch. Rossi will usually keep Hotch from overworking with a small, light conversation.

Emily spreads out on the couch, and the rest of us pretend to not see JJ glance over at her as she looks at Emily with eyes that crave her attention.

Derek will listen to music and I’ll close my eyes and strain my ears to make out the muffled tunes that escape his ears. I sit across from Derek and will share snacks that we grabbed from a dingy convenience store on the way to the tarmac.

Spencer, who always sits next to me, will usually write his mother a letter. He writes her a letter on every plane ride after a case. I think back to the time that I asked him why he prefers letters to phone calls. He told me that he finds letters a forever way to say ‘I love you’. Taking your love and turning it into pen and paper makes it tangible, is what he told me. Until that day, I never really pegged Spencer to be a poet, but he continues to amaze me everyday.

I think that he can feel me staring at him, because he suddenly stops writing and his eyes look up to meet mine.

“She’s not doing so well, Y/N” Spencer says, his voice but a whisper above the hum of the jet and music spilling from Morgan’s headset.

“Your mom?” I ask, my voice matching his.

Spencer, for perhaps the first time I’ve known him, is quietly defeated.

“All I ever wanted to do was to save her, Y/N. Sometimes I feel like I’m not doing everything I should be. I thought that by the time I was 30 I would have cured schizophrenia. It’s just that sometimes I feel like maybe I settled”

“Well, you know we really don’t hear about child genius when they are adults. And you have the same job and me, and I’m not where near as smart as you. So you feel like you’re letting the world down or even worse— yourself”

“You might not have the IQ points on a piece of paper, but you are nothing short of brilliant” Spencer says looking at me directly in my eyes. I hold his gaze for maybe a second and look down towards my lap in disbelief.

“Spence,” I say. “You have to say that, otherwise I’d stop making you chocolate donuts.”

“I don’t need your donuts to convince me that you are an amazing agent. I mean,” He pauses and holds my stare again.

“You’re so kind it hurts me sometimes. And watching you those kids today, you’d be a great mom, Y/N. You make everyone feel so comfortable just being around you, and I’d give up all the chocolate donuts and IQ points and bottomless coffee if it meant you’d stay in my life,” Spencer says looking at me. I rest my hand over his and we sit there in the silence and comfort of the other.

Spencer Reid is a man of many hats. But I think his way with words just may be my favorite. I don’t dare to respond to him. I don’t trust myself not to kiss his pink lips as he looks at me like he loves me. I don’t trust myself to not tell him all the wonderful and sinful things I think about him. I don’t trust myself to not tell him how I was watching him play with those orphans back at the police station.

“What’s a best friend for, Spence?” I say to him.

“Besides, ’d want nothing more than to be a mom one day,” I tell him. We never really talked about our futures. Maybe it was the nature of our jobs. Having a lethal job means that the future is more of an arbitrary idea than a definite possibility.

“But,” I start. “I'm twenty-seven years old, I've no money and no prospects. I'm already a burden to my parents and I'm frightened” I quote with a smirk on my face that covers my trepidation at talking about love and children and the future with Spencer.

“I’d never think that you’d be one to settle for a Mr. Collins, Y/N” Spencer tells me, a similar look on his face mirrors my own. “If anything, you’re a Lizzie and you deserve a Mr. Darcy”

“You really think that Spence, because I’m not too sure.”

“You never know, Y/N your Mr. Darcy can be anyone. Statistically speaking, you may have already met him or have mutual friends or he may even work in the Bureau.

Sometimes I think that luck and fate are mocking me. Dangling Spencer in front of me; so real yet so far that I’m jumping to remain close to him. Touching his hand to mine feels like I’m teasing myself, just getting a taste of how his warm, strong hands fit into mine is enough to set my heart on fire.

I let go of his hand and my palm is cold and lonely without his touching. My heart cools but there’s a yearning for him that’s so strong it’s like a magnetic field pulling me in.

“I’m going to get a cup of coffee, would you like some?” He asks me as he scoots out of the seat.

“I’ll take a green tea, coffee this late makes me anxious” And sitting here holding your hand talking about children and my Mr Darcy makes me even more anxious.

“Coming right up,” he says with a sad smile on his face that I try to convince myself is because of his mother’s illness and not because I dropped his hand.

Spencer returns to his spot beside me, sipping his coffee and making small notes in his letter. There’s a chill between us that can’t be quelled by even the hottest cup of tea. Spencer doesn’t talk to me again and even though it’s just a couple more hours, I miss his voice.

I have a routine for when I come home after cases, but that routine has been thrown out the window when I watched Spencer walk out of the bullpen without as much as a wave goodbye. We usually go to my apartment and make dinner together. My trip home is a lot more lonely without Spencer by my side. I try to stop my thoughts from going to him, but it’s impossible when he’s all I can think about.

My apartment is dark and quiet when I walk in. It was left in shambles, with clothes and books strewn all over the couch, desk and floor. I can’t even bother myself to care about the dirty dishes stacked in the sink. I convince myself that those dishes are a tomorrow problem.

I take out a small container of leftover fried rice and vegetables and pop into the microwave. Making my way into my bedroom I change out of my work clothes, that I’ve been in for nearly 30 hours. I don’t really think about what I’m putting on, as long as it does not smell it works with me at this point.

My microwave dings, altering me that my mediocre meal is finished. But, before I can even reach the kitchen a small envelope slips through my door and falls on the floor. A sudden rush of fear courses through me. I flit my eyes to the corner safe where my gun rests. In my mind, I try to calculate the risk of punching the code or if I should just find out who is behind my door. I guess curiosity wins out, because I’m walking towards the door where the mysterious envelope sits.

I reach down and instantly recognize the handwriting as Spencer’s. I can feel my heart pumping blood through my bodying as I think that some sadistic unsub is trying to toy with me by hurting Spencer.

I was not prepared for what I read. My fingers grazed over the messy penmanship. I don’t even let my mind wander as I pour over the words on the page, still fearing for the worse

Dear Y/N,

Part of me can’t believe that I’m actually doing this. But something that you mentioned on the plane sparked something in me. You’re not a Charlotte, or a Lizzie or even a Jane, even though you are the kindest and most beautiful person I know.

You are a Y/N. And I am wishing for anything to be your Mr. Darcy. Thinking about you, Y/N gets me thinking about love. How much I love when you look at me across from the table, or how your soft hands will brush against mine. It reminds me that I’m alive. Your gaze makes me blush and those small brushes make me forget to breathe. In your eyes I can see my future— our future. In your smile I can taste happiness. When I am with you the world moves in slow motion and time seems to move too fast.

I hope that this does not ruin things, Y/N. I could not bear to lose you. I hope that you won’t hate me but even if you do, I’d rather you hate me and be in your life than not be in your life.

I think of love, and you, and my heart grows full and warm, and my breath stands still

Forever yours,

Spencer

I read the letter silently. Not sure if I can believe it, but I so desperately want to. I throw all sense to the wind when I fling the door open, my eyes hunting for Spencer. He sits on the steps leading up to the next level, fiddling with his shoe laces. I run over to where he sits, not caring that my neighbors might be looking or caring that I look like I’m about to mug him.

He makes me, cautious girl, a rebel.

“Hey, you,” I say approaching him. Spencer moves to stand up and I reach out to hold his hands in mine. Like a puzzle piece they hit perfectly. His hands are not too warm or clammy or too cold and boney. They’re perfect. He hesitates and rubs his thumb against the back of my palm, like he does on the plane.

“Hi, Y/N.” He starts nervously. “I guess you got the letter, and I just want to tell you-”

“What letter, Spence?” I say. I can’t help but to tease him. His face turns pale and green in the same breath.

“Uh-um, you didn’t just get something in your mail a couple minutes ago?” He asks me so nervously that I almost feel bad at teasing him. Almost, he’s kind of cute when he’s stumbling over his words and I like to be one that makes him this fluttery.

“I got your letter, Spencer,” I tell him. I think he half expects me to drop his hand and shatter his heart then and there. Maybe he came here and prepared himself for the worse. I think he’s done that his whole life, believing that he doesn’t deserve a chance at happiness. I’m kind of inclined to give him that happiness when it’s so intricately tied to mine.

“You did?”

“Yeah, who knew that you were quite the poet, Spencer.” I tell him as I brush his hair from his eyes. It’s gotten so long, but I like it. I’ve dreamt about threading my fingers threw it many times. It’s so soft and brown and frames his face.

“You deserve a poet, Y/N. And I could only dream of being that person for you.” He says. Against even his own wishes he leans in closer to my touch. His cheek is warm in my palm and I feel his long eyelashes flutter against the ball of my thumb.

“Luckily for you, Spence, I like scientists.” I say to him.

“You--”

“I love you back, Spencer.” I move to wipe the tears that flood down the bridge of his nose.

“It was a really beautiful letter that you wrote, Spencer. All the right things in there, Emily Dickinson and Mr. Darcy,” I tell him pressing my cheek into his chest.

“Well, I had to win you over, Y/N”

“Ha!, Spencer you’ve had me since I’ve met you”

He looks at me with a veil of disbelief.

“Spencer Reid, in his purest form, is a beauty known nowhere else”

“Is that what you think of me?” He asks me.

“Why don’t you come inside and let me show you what I think of you Spencer?” I say leading him inside to my apartment, that was no longer so dark and lonely.

#spencer reid x reader fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid #dr spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x female reader #spencer reid deserved a happy ending #criminal minds fics #criminal minds fanfic

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tatestripedsweater · 4 years ago

Text

Blood Soaked Obsession

Plot: You come to the hotel for an escape from your toxic partner, little did you know there was someone already fawning over you

James becoming obsessed with the reader who is already married - Requested by Anon

James March x GN!Reader

AHS Taglist: @tatesimper @mxlti-fand0m-imaginess @darlingkitt @mrs-march-ahs - Let me know if you want to be added

Warnings: Mentions of sex, Masturbation, Blood, Attempted Murder

Wordcount: 1455

Bold Italics are flashbacks

Your wedding day was one of the happiest moments of your life. You had always dreamed of a big wedding with all of your family and friends, and that’s what you got. The ceremony was something to be spoken about in years to come. You couldn’t wait to look over the photographs when you’re old. Just remembering the good times.

But marriage wasn’t all sunshine and daisies in fact, it was far from perfect. You spent the first few weeks fawning over one another, but as months passed that changed, the arguments began and the stress of paying bills piled on top of you both.

It’s how you ended up here, the hotel Cortez. It was a very stylish hotel but had old-fashioned decor you couldn’t help but marvel upon. The chandelier in the lobby was the first thing that had caught your eye, you couldn’t stop yourself from looking at it as if it was hypnotizing you. The diamonds on it sparked from the lights that lit the hotel, your attention was interrupted when you felt someone else’s presence next to you.

“It’s over one hundred years old, worth a fortune” The man who stood beside you reminded you of someone in a black and white movie, he smelled like warm sandalwood mixed with tobacco, nothing like your partner at all.

“You can tell…” You smiled over at the man as you spoke in a soft voice, James noticed your wedding ring when you fiddled with it without even thinking. His mind wondered if you were running away from your beloved, had they upset you or even hurt you? Many questions spiraled around in his head.

“I believe we haven’t been introduced dear, James, James March” He held out his hand for you and you yourself couldn’t help but notice the wedding ring on his finger, smiling you went to shake his hand, but he brought your hand up to his lips.

You felt your heart jump up into your throat as he did that, but composing yourself and not to make yourself look like a fool, you smiled over at James. Slowly looking over at you, a slight smirk graced his lips and you yourself were getting hot again at the way this man was staring at you.

“Y/N…” James couldn’t help but compare your voice to that of an angel, you looked like one anyway, so your voice was just as angelic, it was like listening to his favourite record. The two of you stared at each other for what seemed like hours. It was as if time had stopped, and you were both the only people in the entire world. ‘’I should get going to my room, it’s rather late”

‘’Let me escort you there, make sure you get to your room’’ James had only known you for what seemed like forever but in reality it was ten minutes the two of you had been talking to one another. Offering his arm to you, you wrapped yours around his as the both of you walked to the elevator. You couldn’t help but notice the tight grip he had on you. It wasn’t uncomfortable, it was more so like a protective lover.

Standing in the elevator with James, you couldn’t help but notice his features even more since you were close to him. He had a nice jawline that you wouldn’t mind running your fingers or even lips over. Your mind was racing with dirty thoughts about this man, and you barely know him, little, did you know James was having much worse thoughts about you: What would you look like covered in the blood of one of his victims? If he gave you a gun, would you shoot someone without hesitation? The very thought made his cock hard. Stepping out the elevator door with you, he led you to your hotel room. He already knew which one, he had been watching you for a while without prior knowledge.

Wherever you went you had always felt like you were being watched, it was very uneasy, but you had heard about the history of the hotel, that it was owned by a serial killer, but you didn’t bother to do much reading on it as you didn’t want to scare yourself.

James stood in the corner of the room watching your every move, he was invisible to your very eyes, but he never left you for one second. This was the third night in a row he had watched you within the confines of your hotel suite, he had seen you vulnerable and naked before him without you even knowing. He didn’t make his presence known to you, but you felt it. James imagined what you would feel like beneath him, having you bent in different positions, so he could fuck you until you were screaming and begging him to stop.

His breath got caught in his throat as he saw your hand move to your crotch. You were spread out on the bed as you pleasured yourself.

Moving his palm over his crotch, James was already hard as he watched you touch yourself. Growling low, he unbuttoned his jeans and let his cock spring up against his chest; you would not know or see him so why shouldn’t he touch himself along with yourself.

Spitting on his hand, James wrapped his hand around his cock and growled almost at the feeling. He imagined it was you wrapped around his cock, your moans as he thrust even deeper inside you until he hit the right spot that made you cry out his name.

Every part of him wanted to make himself visible and just have his way with you, but he knew if he did that then you’d end up being scared away from him. James noticed your legs trembling as you touched yourself, the noises you were making forced himself to tighten his grip on his cock.

“Fuck..” His attention was drawn away from his pleasure when that small little moan fell from your lips. Sweat formed on your skin, which made it glisten from the soft light in the room. You were a sight to behold…

‘’I own the hotel, it's my priority to know where my guests are staying’’ James spoke before you could even ask as he saw the confused look upon your face, nodding to show your understanding you opened the door to your room but without even offering, James walked in with you. He finally had you to himself,

“What’re you doing…?” Your voice was timid when you noticed him inside your hotel room, you didn’t even invite him in or even have the decency to ask if he could join you for the evening. “I think you should leave…”

“I don’t think so dear” Your breath shook as he stepped closer to you, your back now against the wall. James’ hot breath fanned over your face due to him being close to you, your mother had taught you self-defence if you were ever in a situation like this, so maybe now was the time to start using them.

“I’m giving you one more warning…” A chuckle escaped from his lips at you trying to sound threatening, James only pressed up against you even more, and you cringed as you felt his bulge up against your stomach. “Fine… Have it your way”

James didn’t realise what you were reaching for in your pocket until you pierced the pocket knife in his chest, his blood coated your hand as you dug it deeper into him. What you didn’t realise is that James was impressed with the action, he was already dead, so this wasn’t going to do much to him but the fact that you had attempted to kill him turned him on to no end.

“D-Darling…” Your face went pale as James just smirked at you, he didn’t seem fazed at all with the knife inside his chest. James took your hand that was holding the knife and had you push it deeper inside him, blood fell out of his chest and onto his clothes like a water fountain. The pain was somewhat of a high to him, his cock got even harder against you.

“What are you…?” The question came out of your throat with a soft whimper, fear took over your entire body as you looked up at James. A wide grin spread across his face, it was like looking the devil in the eyes, you weren’t going to get out of this hotel alive.

“A ghost dear, you’ve just tried to kill the greatest serial killer who’s ever lived. Join me this evening for dinner, I have many memories to make with you.

#american horror story #american horror story gifs #ahs #ahs gifs #ahs imagine #american horror story imagine #ahs imagines #ahs hotel #american horror story hotel #james march

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