#biker!marvel au

[buckyalpine]

18+ Minors dni Enemies to lovers with some massage therapist Bucky. Breeding kinnk, aftercare, Bucky is a secret softie, all that.

Imagine Rival Biker Bucky x f reader. A smutty, slutty little concept while I add the finishing touches to another fic, just getting this out of my system first. I just love the idea of a sexy, bad boy Bucky getting his hands on the one girl who won't give him a second glance because she's too good for him and they're from opposite worlds. Since childhood. Now he's a biker. Covered in black ink. He works in an auto shop. Owns the bar that brings in chaos. He's smoke, whiskey and leather.

She, however, is soft, pretty, smart and does not have the time to entertain someone like him. She has her degree. Working on a second. She has a career. She does not associate with the likes of him, not as the police chiefs daughter. She'll be damned if she has to even breathe the same air, especially when his gang is the cause for half the problems in the town that her father has been trying to get rid of.

Now, imagine that hours of working on her notes and papers leave her with unbearable knots and kninks in her back. She doesn't want to take a break but the pain only gets worse as the week goes by. It doesn't take long for her to shoot her regular massage therapist a message to book the very first available appointment.

-

You unclasped your bra, folding and setting it off to the side while waiting for Wanda in the warmly lit room. You could have sworn she was a witch with the way she made pain disappear; she’d also become a good friend after your many visits.

The knock at the door interrupted you as you slid your shorts off, leaving you in your panties, not rushing to jump onto the table considering it was just Wanda anyway.

“Come in!” You smiled, making your way to the massage bed as the door clicked open- “Oh my God!!” You nearly shrieked seeing Bucky walk in, a shit eating from spreading across his face as you scrambled to grab the tiny towel to cover yourself though it was a futile attempt. “What the hell are you doing here?!”

"You have an appointment, don't you?" He quirked an eyebrow as if it was clear as day why he was there.

"Yeah, with Wanda, why are you here, did you get lost on the way to jail?" Your face scrunched in a mix of confusion and disgust ignoring the roll of his eyes while you snatched your shirt to better cover up.

"Well Wanda couldn't make it in but she sent me" He said with a shrug, sighing when he saw your less than impressed face, "Don't flatter yourself, I'm just training under her as part of my physiotherapy internship"

"I'm sorry, you're trying to tell me you of all people are learning how to give massages? Please"

"Physiotherapy" Bucky corrected, "You're not the only one who has a degree, princess" Bucky watched as you groaned realizing you hadn't put your bra on, opting to stuff it in your bag instead of putting it back on in front of him.

"You are NOT laying a finger on me-ow!" You hissed, feeling the knot in your back tug at the rest of your muscles.

"You're not gonna be able to do a whole lot with that much pain" Bucky smirked, only half joking. He wasn't wrong. The pain was worse than before and you needed this an you really didn't have the time to reschedule.

"Fine" You mumbled, turning away from him so you could take your shirt off again, glaring at him when you noticed he hadn't turned away. "Could you at least give me some privacy instead of lurking in the corner like a pervert"

"Whatever you want, princess" He bit his lip as he faced the wall, hearing your feet pad across the tile to lay down on the massage table.

"Alright" You huffed after covering your lower body with the towel, now laying face down, immediately second guessing yourself as he walked over.

"Let me know if anything's uncomfortable or if you want me to stop" His voice was no longer snarky; in fact he sounded professional. "Where do you feel the most tension?"

"Um-shoulders and-lower back" You mumbled out the last bit, he was going to massage you there anyway so there so no pointed hiding it. You tensed at the feeling of his oiled fingers starting to work at your muscles, he had no right to be that good. At all.

“Shit” you hissed trying to keep your voice down, ignoring the clench of your stomach feeling his rough fingers press down on the areas that were tight. Little did you know Bucky was struggling far more than you were.

It went against every bit of professionalism he had. Every moan you tried to silence went right to his cock, his hands making their way lower before trailing up again. Fuck, you sounded so pretty...

"Better stop making those sounds"

"Or what" You challenged back before you could even stop yourself.

"Princess..."

"Your attitude is what needs fixing" Bucky growled, professionalism be damned, "fuck this"

-

You have no idea how you ended up here. It didn't matter though, not when there wasn't a single cohesive thought in your brain as you wailed letting Bucky absolutely rail you. Your back didn't feel an ounce of pain as he took you on all fours, pulling your hips to slam back against him, gripping your ass with enough strength to leave you sore.

"Feel better now huh baby, not trying to stay quiet anymore, are ya" He let out a low chuckle which melted into a groan feeling you tighten on his dick, "Such a good little princess like you letting me put my dick in you, dirty girl"

You hate to admit it but the clench of your cunt betrays how much you love this. It was so wrong. You had no business fucking someone like him and yet where you were letting his precum paint all over the inside of your walls.

"What would your daddy say princess, if he knew where you were right now, what you were doin'? Thinking you're studying when you're actually all pretty and naked, letting me rub that gorgeous body up and down, bet you'd let me put my cum in you too, huh? Bet your dad would love that, his perfect little girl all knocked up with some bikers baby"

You could have said no, stayed silence, just about anything but nope. You screamed feeling his fingers reach around the massage your clit, your orgasm wasting no time hurling towards you.

"Ja-Ja-JAMESSS"

"MMMPHH I love the sound of that baby, could get used to hearing you sayin' my name, say it again princess, say my name with my cock in you, c'mon, that's it"

"Fuck-James-I-James" You were a mess and loving every bit of it, tears starting to flow down your cheeks, all the pent up stress you were feeling finally releasing. You felt your throat tighten, a sob escaping your lips as you let go, your arousal making a creamy mess on the dark curly hair on the base of his cock.

"God, you're milkin me, you want my cum that bad huh baby, want a little biker baby in that tummy of yours, I'll give it to you, give you so much I might even put twins in there-FUCKK"

-

"Shhhh" Bucky cooed, wrapping you up in a fluffy towel while cuddling up your limp body, wiping away any remnants of tears while you stayed floating in a subby, post sex haze. "I got you, you did so good princess" You only manage to let out a weak whimper, giving into his warm, thick arms that rock you.

"You alright angel?"

"Mph" you mumble against his chest and he reaches over for a glass of water that's nearby, bringing it up for you to take a sip. You're surprised at how sweet he's being, drinking up before snuggling into him again. Damn him for being so warm and comfy.

"Y'know, there might be a little Bucky in there" He whispers with a playful smirk in his voice, fingers tickling your lower belly, chuckling when you narrow your eyes at him.

"You wish" You sass back, ignoring the butterflies you feel.

"I do" He admits, biting his lip, his previous cocky demeanor replaced with a shy one, though he tries to mask it. Poorly. His cheeks are pinker than the time you threw paint on him for pulling your pigtails. When you were both 4. "I'd want Bucky jr. to have your brains though"

Imagine that incident sets off a very interesting chain of events. A confession of feelings. You both couldn't be happier, meanwhile your father is grumbling about how he knew this fuckin' day would come, God damn it.

"I never liked that boy" He struggles to keep a scowl on his face watching you giggle like you were 4 again, running to the door as soon as you hear the rumble of his bike.

"Shut up, you love him" Your mom chides, watching Bucky swoop you up for a loving kiss, heading you a bouquet of yellow flowers as he always does.

-

"I still don't like 'em" Your dad says while you roll your eyes, your arm linked with his as he walks you down the aisle.

"Is that why all the files you had to build a case against him all suddenly went missing?" You tease and your dad shugs.

"Wasn't me"

-

just an idea.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

A Man Called Danger 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, violence, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

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

Summary: You avoid drama, you avoid confrontation, and overall, you avoid men. But some men can't be denied. ~ short!late 30s reader

Characters: biker!Bucky Barnes

Note: I saw a photoshoot and lost my mind.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You sigh and set the phone down, tilting your head back as you close your eyes. Exasperation, frustration, helplessness.

This is why you never had kids of your own. Your own teenage years were tough enough. Well, life has continued to shout that lesson in your face; things don’t always turn out how you expect. Or how you want. 

Let her make her mistakes, you tell yourself. No, no, you can be passive in your own life but you took on this responsibility. You can’t just wait and see how it turns out. Not like your mother did. She only got lucky you didn’t end up on a corner or like her. 

You take a deep breath and run your hands over your face. Your mother taught you many lessons without meaning too. Men, kids, all that domestic stuff is just a trap. You’re better off without having to figure out the mistakes of others.

That’s why you did this right? Because you want your sister to learn the same thing, to avoid the consequences of youth and short-sightedness. To escape that family curse that keeps you so cautious. 

You grab your jacket from the front door. She’s nineteen. Nineteen. An adult. You’re not her mother. No, but you won’t let it happen. Not to her. Not to that baby you spent your nights bottle-feeding as your mother spent her stipend at the bar or drove around with Robbie from down the street. 

It’s underhanded. Not what you should do. Not respectful at all but after the last time, you couldn’t let it go. You open the app on your phone. The dot that is your sister’s phone pings in the map. You zoom in and squint as you stand on the doormat. Really? 

You lock the front door and come down the front steps. The deep blue evening is starless as only the yellow street lights offer clarity. Oh, everything is clear. The apple is not falling very far. 

You drop your phone in the cup holder and turn the engine. The grumpy old Honda chugs to life and the stick cranks loudly as you put it in reverse. You don’t have much but you have the one thing you always craved; stability. You manage with what you have. 

You ease your foot off the pedal as you catch yourself speeding down the forty zone. You idle at the sign before turning onto the next street. You make a zigzag onto the main road. Your nape itches with impatience. How the hell did she get all the way out there, anyway? 

You grip the wheel and snarl at the windshield. You’re not a mother. You don’t have a maternal bone in your body. You were raised to be wary. By the time your sister came around, your mother wasn’t present enough to make much of an effort or impact. You suppose neglect can be just as lingering as resent. 

You keep one hand on the wheel as you chew your thumb. For all your attempts to avoid this fate, you find yourself where you didn’t want to be. Maybe not technically or even legally, but you’re stuck cleaning up this mess. 

You pull up to the bar at last. Take a breath. You are not an angry person. Not like your father. Yes, the surge comes from time to time but you control it. You repress it until it’s only a flicker in your stomach. 

You get out and lock your phone. You pocket your keys as you approach the door. Nearly wenty years since you’ve been in a bar, never of your own volition. You stare up at the marque. 

You were the same age as your sister then. The place was glowing and hazy. You entered to the clink of bottle and the buzz of the old juke box. Darts pounded into the bullseye and cues clacked on solids and stripes. Your mother was there hanging off a greasy man in flannel. She was too drunk to answer your question as you held her child on your hip. 

“Mom, where’s the money?” 

It fades away with the voice from your left. The man stands with arms crossed, “ma’am, you can go in. I don’t needa see ID.” 

You shake your head and make yourself enter. Your reluctance slows you along with the overwhelming wall of noise. Voices all around, music, glass meeting each other and tabletops, laughter, coughing, and snarling. The dim is lit only by the bulbs beneath the black shades, hanging from the ceiling. You squint to see through the glazed din. 

This isn’t your place. This is never what you would do for fun. Drinking, talking to strange men, spending what free time you have rotting away in this pit. 

You hear a familiar octave. Eva trills with laughter. Not that sardonic snort she gives you when you try to offer her some sense, no, that tinkling noise she uses when she wants something. It’s not a surprise, there aren’t too many reasons for a girl her age to be here. 

You find her along the bar. She sits sideways on a stool, one leg draped over the other. She’s everything you’re not old. Young, slim, and tall. You never grew much after eighth grade and you can’t do anything to stop time from its work. 

You cross the bar as the man next to her chortles and winks at her. His hand is on her stool, just by her hip. He looks about your age. You grit your teeth. 

You’re not brave or bold. You learned to survive by staying out of the way but you can’t just walk away from this. You know what older men want from women half their age. 

You clear your throat as you come up next to them. Eva ignores you as the man sends you a sneer, “can I help you?” 

You cross your arms. You’re not good at confrontation. Not with strangers and definitely not with men. 

“Eva,” you focus on your sister, “I’ve been waiting for you--” 

“Don’t pay attention to her,” she flutters her fingers. 

“Eva. You said you’d be home at eight--” 

“Ugh, you’re not my mother, okay? We both know where she is so just go away,” she snarls. She’s drunk. When she’s a few deep, she gets mean. 

“She’s grown,” the man insists. 

“She’s my sister, I’m talking to her,” you turn so your back is to him and you’re almost between them. “Eva, I got that job lined up for you--” 

“She said fuck off,” the man growls. You tune him out. 

“It’s good. You can take the year to build the reference then apply to the community college--” 

“You’re embarrassing me,” she hisses. 

“Would you get out of here?” The man pushes you so hard you stumble. You hit a table and gasp as the edge jams against your ribs. The people sat their grumble at you for spilling their drinks. 

“Johnny!” Eva cries out. “What the hell are you doing?” 

“You told her to get off,” he sneers. 

“Yeah, but you can’t just do that,” she whines. 

You steady yourself and apologise to the patrons at the table. You hug your middle and swallow down the pain. You swore you would never be pushed around by another man. 

You turn and march up to the creep. “You feel big picking on women? Huh? You feel like a man going after teenagers? Cause a woman your own age wouldn’t put up with you?” 

Eva tugs on your arm and says your name, “please, don’t. What are you doing?” 

“Do it again,” you goad. The words come out naturally.

You’re shocked by yourself but your reticence is dulled by that hereditary spark. That flame you’ve been tamping out for decades. Not like him. You are not him. 

“Pfft, don’t be a bitch. You already cockblocked me.” 

“No, you want to pick on me, pick on me.” You spit. 

“What’s wrong with you? Why are you here?” Eva snivels. 

‘Why are you here?’ Your mother drunkenly slurs. ‘I’m just having some funnnnnn.’ 

You stare at her. Eva wriggles and cries on your hip. You hush her, trying to comfort her. She’s hungry. You don’t have anything left in the can. 

‘Mom, that money was for her. Mom, where is it? Give it back.’ 

She chuckles and caresses the head of the man she sits on, “go talk to Chuck at the bar, he might give you a refund.’ 

Your name draws you out of the past. Eva shakes you as you snarl at the man. Your hands ball to fists. 

“There a problem?” A gravelly timbre undercuts your rage. 

Eva babbles again. 

“Walker,” footsteps stomp closer and Eva pulls you out of the way. 

You watch as a dark-haired man pulls the blond from atop the stool. He has him by the scruff, “what’d I tell you about fighting?” He glances at you then the foamy spill leaking onto the floor from the table as a server tries to sop it up. “You hitting women in my joint?” 

You quake with anger. This man thinks he’s a saviour. You don’t need him to defend you. In here, they’re all the same. 

“You better not come back,” the brunette growls and hurls the blond onto the floor. “This is the last time I’m tossing your ass out.” 

You watch the man’s shoulders strain the leather of his jacket. He’s broad, taller than you, like most, and about your age. He faces you. His hair is pushed back, the tails winging out behind his nape, his beard is thick and laced with silver, and he wears a golden medallion around his neck. His blue eyes scour you and Eva. 

“You alright?” He asks with a stitch in his forehead. 

“Just fine. Leaving,” you say as you twist your hand around to grab Eva’s arm instead. 

“I don’t put up with that in here. I saw that man up on your daughter and I shoulda stopped it earlier,” he intones. 

You scoff. 

“Look, you can have a drink on the house--” 

“I don’t drink,” you show your palm. “Excuse me.” 

You step around him and drag your sister with him. Under the ripple of anger, is fear. These men are dangerous. You forgot that at some point. Don’t ever forget that. You just wish Eva could see the same. 

You take her to the car as she stumbles in her heels. You open the passenger door and let her go. She gets in and you resist the urge to comment on her outfit. She can wear short skirts and crop tops, she’s an adult, but it’s too cold to not have a sweater. 

You go around and get in the driver seat. You sit there and stare at the wheel. You close your eyes and inhale. 

“I’m sorry. Are you okay?” 

“Eva,” you snip and open your eyes. You brace the wheel as you look at her. “You saw what that man did. I’m a woman with no value to him, so when he loses interest, what do you think happens to you?” 

She mopes and looks at her lap. She twirls her thumbs round each other and sniffles. “I was only having fun.” 

“You can’t find someone your own age? Or maybe a hobby. Try the library,” you run your hands over your forehead. “I don’t want to be like this. I don’t want to act like your mother, I want to be your sister. I want you to do better.” You slap your hands down on your legs. “You can make your decisions however you like but I just want you to think before you do.” 

“I’m sorry--” 

“You’re sorry. Again. You keep doing it,” you relent and slacken against the seat. “You’re not a kid. We both have to accept that.” 

You jam the keys in the ignition and turn. You sit up and peer around the lot. Your eyes snag on the figure standing in the glare of the marquee. That man in leather with the medallion. He watches calmly. 

You lean on the gas and steer around the lot. As you come closer to the bar, he waves with two fingers and winks. You frown and put your attention ahead of you. You just want to go home and go to bed. 

[chloe-skywalker]

Love Beyond Limits Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

By @chloe-skywalker

Summary: After a lot of broken promises Y/n decides to get out of and leave Charming and California for that matter. Needing some space and time to heal her heart she heads to New York to stay with some friends. New York might just be her new home. While there she finds an unexpected romance that just feels like its meant to be, with a man in a very similar world as the one she grew up in. New friends that feel like family. Sure there's some ups and downs, shoot outs, break ins, a fast moving relationship, rival Mob’s and a kidnapping. But they’ll navigate it together.

Characters

Chapters :

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6

Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9

Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12

Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15

Chapter 16 Chapter 17 more coming...

(All chapters shown above are done and in my queue, & currently writing more)

[klaus-littlestwolf]

Biker!Bucky B. Moodboard

Biker!Bucky and his Girl Board

[mrs-barnes-rogers-writes]

Sometimes Your Soul Family Is The Only Family You Need - Part 6

Marvel AU

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader x Steve Rogers

Summary: 18 months ago you were a mess but with the help of your close friends you start to rebuild your life. Your soul friendships maybe chaotic but they're your family, just as you're theirs. With one of them about to have a baby, you and your misfit friends are here to visit. But will you stay? And what will the small town think of you having two soulmates and why do you keep finding yourself in the same place as a bunch of hot bikers.

"Sometimes families are assholes, sometimes your soul connections mean far more than family ever can. Sometimes your soul family is the only family you need." - Nurse Maggie

Chapter Warning: Blood, panic attack, baby loss.

Chapter Summary: The reader's world collides with her soulmates. Literally. And what's up with Sam.

“Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome honey.” The cashier replied. Soul friends with the owner of the Airbnb you were staying in, the cashier and her husband were owners of the hardware store and had given you a hefty discount. Her husband appeared from the back of the store to let you know that the paint Annemarie had settled on after much debate would arrive on Monday and he’d personally deliver it.

Everyone seemed to know each other and although in the past you weren’t sure small towns were your thing, there was something kind and heart-warming about Brook Town and how everyone looked out for each other. You felt your soulmate letters tingle and automatically rubbed at the long sleeved shirt you were wearing. The rumble of motorbikes brought a tightening to your chest.

“You OK hun?” Asked the cashier, and you wondered then how accepting the town would be of a triad.

“Ermmmm.” You replied unsure. You were tempted to ask the couple who now stood watching as you fidgeted and poked at your letters. You went to speak but changed your mind as the door opened and a redhead woman walked in. You couldn’t help but notice how beautiful she was as she greeted the owners like old friends. You took the moment to slip away, not knowing that she turned towards you to say hello only to find you slipping through the door.

You were completely unaware that she wasn’t far behind you.

A little further down the street…….

“How’s it feel?” Asked Clint.

“Itchy.” Steve replied.

“Ok so she’s here somewhere. Did you feel it yesterday? When Buck saw her?”

“Yeah, but he didn’t say anything right away. I thought it was the shirt.”

“So what we just wait here? Hope she walks past?” Bucky asked, his tone frustrated.

“No, Natasha is going to dip in and out the stores to see if she can see her or the friend.” Clint confirmed. “Were you even paying attention?”

“I’m not one of your kids Clint.” Bucky snarked.

“That didn’t answer my question.”

“No OK!!! Because I can’t think straight! What if we’re wrong! What if it’s not her? What if she doesn’t want us? What if she doesn’t want me?” Bucky snapped, his voice full and busting with emotion.

“Easy bud. Take a breath.” Spoke Clint calmly.

“We won’t know unless we speak to her.” Steve added.

“Fine, but you can do the talking.”

“Is that a good idea? You know he can’t talk to women.” Came a new voice, as Sam approached and joined the conversation.

“Any luck?” Asked Steve.

“Well, if Nat has the car details right she’s parked near the pie shop.” Sam answered. Steve watched as Sam rubbed at his own soulmate letters but before he had chance to remark he felt his own arm grow warmer and the urge to scratch and rub at it became uncontrollable. He pulled at his jacket, trying to grant himself some relief. He stopped himself as he saw Bucky’s posture change from the corner of his eye. Changing from perching on his bike to straight and upright, the only other movement the rubbing of his chest.

“Steve?” His voice said, almost broken and he nudged his head forward.

Steve followed his line of sight and set his eyes on you. You were looking around a slight panicked look in your eyes. Your hands were full of DIY supplies and you had a bag across your body that Steve guessed was holding your keys, cash and whatever else girls carried around. You were wearing cut off jean shorts, a fitted tshirt with a scoop neck that had Steve eyes trailing to your cleavage. His eyes scanned back up as he took in the rest of your appearance. Your hair was pulled into a messy bun as wisps of it framed your face and fell around your sunglasses, and he found himself wondering what colour your eyes were.

He started gravitating towards you. Bucky went to follow but stopped himself. Clint discreetly pulled out his phone and started to record what he hoped would be a special moment and also knowing that his wife and soulmate, Laura, wouldn’t want to miss this.

You continued to look around as Steve moved towards you. Glancing behind, you felt like you were being followed. Was it the biker from yesterday? Your arm burned and your chest grew tighter.

You heard a voice calling out a name and turned back only to hit something hard and warm. You fell backwards quickly and landed on the pavement. You hit your elbow and let out a yelp, your left side taking the brunt of the fall. There was quickly warm hands on you and a voice close to your ear.

“Shit, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

Warmth spread where his hands touched you and you felt the tightness in your chest ease. You were pulled to your feet.

“My things?” You said confused, glancing down at your shopping bags sprawled out along the pavement.

“I’ll grab them. Are you OK sweetie?” The redhead from earlier asked as she came into your line of sight, smiling softly at you.

“No, she’s not.” A new voice, gruff and annoyed. “You absolute idiot Stevie.”

“You distracted me jerk.”

“So what? You can’t watch where you’re damn going?”

“Walk her over here. I’ll get the kit.” Another voice.

You were guided towards a wooden bench and eased down. There was a rustling as the bags were placed beside you. The redhead appeared and knelt in front of you, placing her hand on yours.

“Hey, are you OK?”

You opened your mouth to speak but nothing came out. She was quickly joined by someone else at her side.

“Hey, I’m Sam, is it OK if I take a look at you?”

“What?”

“Can I take a look at you?”

“You’re bleeding sweetie.” The redhead again. What? You were bleeding? You couldn’t think straight with your soulmate letters on fire. You looked down to see the side of your knee grazed and there was blood running down your finger tips. You went to move your elbow but it flashed with pain and you let out a hiss.

“Can I get you cleaned up?”

You nodded.

“Sorry, I’m not sure what happened.” You said.

“Well you see this big blonde idiot here?” The redhead pointed at one of the bikers who seemed to be bickering with his friend. You nodded. “Well he was distracted by the dark and brooding idiot and he walked into you.”

“I think I might have walked into him too.” You replied, recognising the brunette from the night before.

“Well, that might be my fault. I was following you, probably distracted you.”

So you were being followed.

“I’m not sure it was just that.” You replied looking at the blonde and brunette bikers, who were now being reprimanded by another. He looked a year or two older than them and had dark blonde hair.

“I’m just gonna pop a Band-Aid on your knee OK? Keep it clean.”

You nodded.

“Thank you Sam. You did say your name was Sam right?”

“Yeah, and this here is Natasha.”

“Hi. Thanks for grabbing my things. Well, they’re my friends. She’s having a baby.”

“Is that why you were at the hospital last night?” Natasha asked.

“How do you know that?”

How long had she been following you? You honestly thought you were more observant than that.

“I was dropping off some donations for the children’s ward and saw you guys coming out.”

Your eyes narrowed at her in suspicion but before you had chance to answer your mind wandered to Ryan.

“Shit.”

“Are you OK?” The blonde was now beside you.

“No, she’s not you damn punk.”

“My friend. He’ll wonder where I am.” You pulled at your bag.

“Here. Let me help.” Natasha offered. You admitted defeat as your elbow stung again and let her pull your phone from your bag. She held it in front of you to unlock it.

“Is it Ryan? You have three missed calls from him.”

You nodded. You watched as she tapped at your phone. You heard Ryan pick up, yelling about you not answering. Natasha introduced herself and start to explain what had happened, as your attention was drawn back to Sam.

“It might be best if we cut the sleeve baby girl. It’s ripped on the elbow but not enough for me to clean it properly and get a dressing on it. You might even need a couple of stitches.”

There was a flurry of voices.

“Shit. I’m so sorry.” “Fucking idiot.” “You’re both idiots.”

“Ignore them. Is that OK? If I cut it?”

You nodded. Sam took the small scissors from the first aid kit that you now found he’d placed at your feet and started to cut slowly from the cuff of your sleeve and upwards. Feeling Steve edge closer a wave of panic spread through you as the burning of your arm grew worse. There was movement behind you and you became aware that Bucky was now standing behind the bench, watching Sam closely. You tilted your arm towards yourself, gritting your teeth at the sting of the open wound. You hoped to play it off as giving Sam more access to your elbow but the way he side eyed you, he knew what you were doing.

You felt your body get warmer at the blonde and brunettes presence. Is spontaneous combustion a thing? Were you going to be sick? Is it normal to feel like this? You started to feel woozy and you swayed a little. You started to see spots in the corners of your eyes.

“Sweetie, drink this.” Natasha pushed a bottle of water towards you and helped you hold it when she noticed your hand shaking. “You two back up now.”

“Not a chance.” “I want to be close to her.”

“You’re overwhelming her guys back up, and don’t huff at me. As someone who’s experienced the first part of the soulmate bond snap into place I know what it feels like. You know what it feels like right now. She’s got it twice over. Take a step back before she passes out.”

“Clint’s right. Her pulse is racing.”

“I don’t like blood.” You whisper to Sam as you sway some more.

“OK baby girl. I’m gonna put a dressing on it now but I think you’re gonna need a stitch or two. Then I’ll wipe all the blood off OK.”

“I need to go. My friend.”

“He’s going to come find us.” Natasha reassured you, slipping your phone back into your bag.

Sam continued to work on the gash on your elbow and you found yourself staring past him at a spot on the floor. A dozen questions sped through your head and you started to spiral.

Would they want you? Are they ok with sharing? Do they have another soulmate too? Are they with her already? Or him? Could be a him? Are they together? How does it work? Don’t ask Ryan that, he’ll draw you another picture. Am I gonna be sick? I might be? Don’t be sick on Sam. Ryan might like this Sam guy. I need to find Ry. I need to get the hospital. Annemarie. The baby. Blood. My baby.

“Sweetheart, come back to us?” The blonde’s voice spoke softly to you.

“Baby girl, bloods nearly all gone.”

“Let me see Sam.”

“Maybe give her a minute.”

“Sam.”

Sam seemed to move back a little and started to look around, distracted as you watched him starting to pull at the sleeve of his leather jacket and Natasha’s soft reassuring squeezing of your hand, you didn’t notice Steve moving closer.

But you knew the moment he touched you. Warmth spread from where he held your wrist, his callous hands moving softly until his thumb carefully brushed over your letters.

“It’s you.” He whispered. He glanced up at you, his bright blue eyes sparkling with emotion.

A million questions ran through your mind as your letters burned, and you felt the brunette learn over the back of the bench, invading your space. Warmth spread where his body briefly touched yours. His need to see the letters for himself making him edge closer.

The blonde spoke again as he ran his thumb over your letters repeatedly.

“S.G.R. J.B.B. Steve Grant Rogers. James Buchanan Barnes.”

You felt the one behind you let out a shuddered breath.

“What’s your name sweetheart?”

You opened your mouth but nothing came out. You tried again but still nothing. Confusion and panic spread over you. You’d found your soulmate. Soulmates. Both of them. In this little town. You glanced around to see the friend that had told them both off had his phone in his hand. Was he recording you? You looked around again and found Natasha still holding your other hand. Sam was now on his feet looking around himself. You scanned the people passing by and noticed a few had stopped to watch what was going on, nudging and pointing and certainly not discreet.

“I, erm, I don’t know.”

The blonde frowned at you and before you knew what was happening or what you were doing you were on your feet, bags in hand and running.

Fancy a cuppa? My Ko-Fi.

TAGLIST

@animegirlgeeky @mrsevans90 @spookyparadisesheep @thezombieprostitute @aiva-gwen-aers

[marvelstoriesepic]

Breaking Chains (2)

Pairing: Biker!Bucky x reader

Series Summary: Leaving behind an abusive and possessive boyfriend, and finding refuge in the hometown you once yearned to escape, certainly wasn’t a chapter you anticipated in your life’s story. Yet, eyes as blue as the sky at dusk, belonging to a mysterious biker drew you into a world of unexpected possibilities, where a job at his bar becomes more than just a means of survival - it’s a pathway to freedom and self-discovery. Though, breaking away from your past proves daunting when shackled by invisible chains.

Chapter word count: 6.3k

Warnings: flashback to toxic relationship, abuse and possessiveness; vomiting; toxic parents; nightmare; self-preservation; anxiety

Author’s note: Here’s the second part. Let me know if you want to be tagged on the next one. Thank you for the support!!

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

“Michael!”

“Michael, stop!”

You chased after your boyfriend, steps pounding over the wooden floorboards of your apartment that felt little like home since you shared it with him.

Your heart was hammering against your chest, lead filled your stomach and your cheek was still stinging from a few moments earlier when his palm had met your face in a swift motion.

The sound of the mixer lid opening reverberated through the apartment and panic surged within you as you quickened your pace.

You rounded the corner into the kitchen where he stood beside the kitchen counter, the mixer sitting innocently next to the microwave. Michael held your phone precariously over the open mixer, his other hand poised to turn it on. Tension crackled in the air, though that was a known occurrence by now. As was the dangerous glint in his eyes.

Another call lit up the screen of your phone - your coworker who had tried to check in with you a few times this week, since you haven’t shown up at work for a while now, Michael not letting you leave the house. However, the many messages and unanswered calls in the last minutes reached the peak of his rage, and his patience - there wasn’t much to begin with - wearing thin.

“You’re not going back there again, do you understand that?”

The deadly calm of his threat weighed heavily on you, bearing you down, suffocating you.

“Michael-”

“Do you understand?” He roared, his whole body shaking with rage.

“Yes. So leave it be. Put it down Michael, you don’t need to do this!”

You walked towards him, eyes wide and arms out in front of you. Trembling hands reached out to grab your phone, pulling it out of his white-knuckled grasp. Before you could retreat, his grip wrapped around your arms instead, his touch like a vice. His hard gaze sent shivers down your spine, his dark eyes burning with a fury that seemed to consume him from within. His voice was laced with venom.

“You fucking bitch!”

You knew what came next, got used to the routine by now - the shouting, the violence, the destruction. It was a cycle that seemed impossible to break, a cycle that left you feeling numb. When he shoved you aside, your body collided painfully with the counter, but you barely registered the pain. It was a familiar sensation. So you stood there, frozen in place, as he continued his rampage, his voice cutting through the air like knives. His arms were wildly thrashing around, aggressive shouting meeting the walls of your apartment.

Picture frames crashed to the ground, their glass surfaces shattering into a thousand pieces, mirroring the shattered fragments of your once-hopeful relationship. The couch bore the scars of his anger, indentations where his feet had collided with its surface in a fit of fury. A book lay abandoned on the coffee table, its pages now crumpled and torn. You had forgotten about the plot anyway.

As he stormed through the room, his voice booming with unrestrained anger, you found yourself detached from the chaos unfolding before you, his words not registering in your mind - a protective barrier. You had been here before and it would happen again.

Bile rose up your throat. All the things he destroyed were remnants of the life you shared. The life you despised. Usually, you were able to swallow it back down but your eyes drifted to the coat rack where your jacket molded with his, and the nausea churning your stomach threatened to overwhelm you.

With a desperate lurch, you tore yourself away from the chaos unfolding in the living room and sprinted across the hallway toward the bathroom. You stumbled inside, barely managing to reach the toilet before the contents of your stomach erupted in a violent rush. The sound of Michaels' raging voice echoed in your ears like a distant storm.

“Ugh, you disgusting bitch!” Michaels' curses reached your ears and you squeezed your eyes shut. You heard keys jingling, indicating that he was making a hasty exit. “You better get a grip before I come back, or you’ll pay!”

His parting threat hung in the air like a dark cloud as you heard the door slam. You slummed against the bathroom floor, cold tiles pressing against your back. Tears streamed down your cheeks, mingling with the bitter taste of bile still lingering in your mouth.

You didn’t know how long you laid there. But as you pushed yourself up from the floor, your muscles protested and your back felt sore. Avoiding your reflection in the mirror, you leaned heavily against the sink, reaching for your toothbrush to scrub away the remnants of bile.

As you leaned down to spit out the foamy toothpaste, your eyes caught something beneath the sink, lying on the floor. Your heart skipped a beat, a jolt of adrenaline coursing through your veins. It was your phone. You had snatched it from Michaels' grasp before his anger spiraled out of control and he hadn’t retrieved it before he left in haste, not wanting to deal with a vomiting girl.

Clammy hands reached down to pick it up and you and unlocked it. Michael had changed your password but seemingly forgot to delete your fingerprint. In a blur of urgency, your fingers flew over the screen, calling back your coworker.

Carol had eased you over the phone and left her own apartment with a quick ‘hold tight, kid’ in a rush to get to you. Relief flooded your senses as she gained herself access to your home by picking the lock. You didn’t know how long Michael would be gone and you felt your heart beating erratically the whole time you packed your few possessions into the boxes Carol had gathered. She had offered you her place to stay but you declined, knowing you had to put some distance between him and yourself.

Your eyes flew open, the sudden jolt rippling you from the clutches of the memory that had ensnared you in its chilling grip. You tried to catch a breath, feeling sweat coating your skin like a clammy shroud.

A hand was running soothing patterns on your back and your eyes focused on Wanda sitting beside you in your bed, concern etched deep into her features. She was talking but her voice didn’t reach your ears, distant words that seemed lost in the disorientating fog of your mind.

It took some moments for her voice to pierce through the haze. “I need you to breathe Y/n, come on!” She urged softly, not letting up to rub your back.

You managed to draw in a few shaky breaths as you clung to the sheets beneath you. Your racing heart calmed down and the room seemed to come into sharper focus. A heavy sigh left your lips.

Wanda’s touch gently withdrew from your back after your breaths visibly evened out again. She kept sitting on the edge of your bed, a sigh in her breath. A sense of tranquility hung in the air, a heaviness settling like a veil of velvet.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Surprisingly, that was all you needed. You sat there, bathed in the soft glow of the moon filtering through the windows, and a sense of comfort washed over you. You had kept your struggles hidden for so long, afraid to burden her with your troubles but the weight of your past pressed down on you like a heavy cloak and she obviously knew something was going on. Your friendship had taken a soft blow due to your silence and you refused to grant Michael the satisfaction he would most definitely feel of prolonging it.

So after your small nod, Wanda slid under your sheets, enveloping you in a cocoon of warmth. With each word that tumbled from your lips, you unburdened yourself of the weight that had been taking residence in your chest for so long.

You recounted the early days of your relationship with Michael, the tender moments and sweet gestures that had initially swept you off your feet. His charm had been intoxicating, his affection seemingly boundless. That was as far as you told your friends.

But then you also told her about the darker, more sinister side of Michaels' personality, that came out after a while. How his possessiveness had escalated gradually and the need to control everything - dictating where you could go, who you could see, and what you could wear. Raised voices and heated arguments had become the norm, his temper flaring at the slightest provocation.

You let her examine the bruises that still littered your wrists from the day before - the day you left. You had become adept at hiding the evidence of Michaels' abuse, concealing the physical manifestations of his cruelty beneath layers of clothing and make-up. Yet, as they lay exposed for Wanda to see, a strange sense of relief washed over you.

Tears were shed, both, Wanda's and yours and it took a while until everything that gripped at your heart was laid bare, sunlight now filtering through the curtains but Wanda listened intently. She held your hand when you choked on words and offered you the kind of comfort you had been craving for years, a weight being lifted from your shoulders.

She embraced you in a tight hug after you were done. “I’m so sorry, Y/n! I’m so sorry!” It was the only thing she could manage, struggling to find her voice.

****

Brick walls stared back at you hauntingly. They had a different color now. The sunlight played upon the textured surface, casting shadows that danced across the facade, accentuating the subtle variations in color.

You noticed the meticulous attention to detail that had gone into the renovation of your parent's house. The one you grew up in. Though it felt little like the house you knew. The mortar between the bricks appeared fresh, neatly applied to fill in any gaps and cracks that had formed over the years you lived there. Your parents seemed to have taken care to restore the exterior, washing away any indications that you had lived there not long ago.

The wooden doorframe gleamed with a fresh coat of varnish, the scratches on its surface you were responsible for, when you were a kid not visible anymore. The brass doorknob was polished, reflecting the sunlight in dazzling glints.

In the driveway, parked in the spot, where your old family car used to rest was a vehicle you didn’t recognize - a sleek, modern model that seemed out of place in the suburban neighborhood. Your parents never told you about the new car or anything else they did to the house, living their life without you.

A bucket of ice water could have been poured over your head and you wouldn’t have felt much colder than you already did. It was a sunny day, you even had to squint your eyes and still got blinded but nothing could make you feel warm at the sight of the house in front of you that looked so familiar, yet foreign. You felt disconnected from the life you once had here.

Your mother never had a hand at gardening, her forgetfulness to water the potted plants she still put in every corner of your house and in front of it, resulted in withered blooms and dried leaves strewn across the ground until she got annoyed and threw them out. A reflection of your relationship.

So you found yourself staring at the tended flower beds and carefully arranged pots now littering the front yard with a bitterness that left your mouth dry. The sudden burst of enthusiasm for gardening she must have had felt like a slap in the face, the realization that your departure had inadvertently paved the way for your mother to rediscover herself in ways she had never before considered.

You thought about knocking. Maybe it was a fleeing wish your parents would welcome you with open arms and a smile on their faces. But that possibility was small - or not there at all. Sorrow filled your stomach at the thought of facing your parents, or confronting the painful truth that they had moved on without you. You had become a distant memory in their lives already, a footnote in the narrative of their newfound happiness.

Your arrival wouldn’t be met with relieved smiles and comfort, it would only serve to reopen old wounds and stir up long-buried resentments - you would be a burden. The weight of reality bore down upon you with crushing force.

“What are you doing there looking like a lost lamb?”

Your head snapped away from the house with the lost fragments of your childhood, gaze meeting the weathered visage of an elderly man slowly making his way towards you on the sidewalk you have been standing on for who knows how long. He leaned on a sturdy walking stick, a flat hat resting atop his grey hair.

Your eyes widened upon seeing him better. “Mr. Clark!” you exclaimed, a warm sensation making way in your stomach at the old shopkeeper of the gardening store further down the road you always passed on your way to school as a kid.

You vividly remembered the time you had stumbled and fallen on the sidewalk, knees and hands scraped, and tears streaming down your cheeks. He had seen you trip through the windows of his shop and rushed out to ease you and take you home. He had been more gentle than your mother was.

Upon hearing his name the old man’s gaze sharpened and a slow smile crept across his face. He halted a few inches away from you, hooded eyes scanning your features. “Well, well,” he mused, “Would you look at who’s come back to town.” His gaze lingered on you, it looked like he could see right through you. “Been a while since I’ve seen you around, child. You look different. Almost didn’t recognize you.”

Did you look different?

You had no idea what you looked like the last time you were around.

“Yeah, I haven’t been here for quite some time.”

A sheepish chuckle escaped your lips and your eyes drifted back to the house.

Mr. Clark followed your gaze and he took a big breath. “I’m sorry about your parents kid. It’s a shame they left town. I don’t even know where it took them.” He kept his eyes on the building but your gaze burned in his side.

Your heart constricted inside your chest, feeling like it had just been pierced by thousands of small needles. You didn’t feel yourself breathing and were unable to blink.

Left town?

Your parents had left town?

You guessed that was the confirmation you needed. The final blow, the definite proof that they had moved on without you. You had clung to the hope that perhaps, deep down, they still cared and that there was still a chance to mend the fractured relationship between them and you. But now that hope felt like nothing more than a cruel illusion - a mirage in the desert of your longing.

Slowly, your eyes shifted back to the house in front of you. The neatly arranged pots of plants, the well-tended front guard, the fresh coat of paint, the new car - it all made sense now. It wasn’t your parents who had renovated the house, but rather the people who lived in it now.

Guilt consumed you like a relentless beast, tearing at your insides with its sharp claws and gnashing teeth. If you hadn’t left and just followed the path your parents had laid out for you, then perhaps they would still be here. If you finished college they probably would still be a part of your life. If you-

“Is everything alright, child? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

The voice of Mr. Clark once again snapped you back to reality with a subtle flinch. You tried a smile reaching your lips but it might have come out as more of a grimace.

“Uh, yeah. I-” you started, choking on your words, but Mr. Clark had already resumed his walk, indicating you to follow him with a wink of his walking stick.

“I think you could use some water, dear.”

A weary sigh left your lips but you felt too tired to relent, so you met his pace, walking side by side.

You neared the gardening store, he still seemed to have kept in his old days. “The boys will be there already,” he remarked. You turned to him confused.

“The boys?”

You saw the bikes first. Two of them, parked in front of the gardening store that - other than anything else in this town as it felt like - hadn’t changed at all since you left. You recognized those bikes. They stood outside the bar the day before yesterday when you dragged Pietro home and met some of the bikers for the first time. The telltale dent in the front of one of them caught your attention as it had that evening. A stark contrast against the pristine surface of its companion.

Then two figures came into sight. One leaned casually against the wall near the opening of the store, exuding an air of nonchalance, shoulders shaking with a laugh as he had his arms crossed in front of his chest. The other stood before him, his body language tinged with irritation. A hand came up to run over his face.

As you drew closer to the store the figures standing in the shadows began to take shape and you recognized them immediately. It was Sam and Bucky. Sam was leaning against the wall, his teasing grin on display, a laugh in his breath. A groan from Bucky met your ears and although he stood with his back to you, annoyance radiated from him in waves.

Sam seemed to have spotted you, judging by the smile that lifted his cheeks as he pushed off the wall and uncrossed his arms. “What a way to meet again!” he called out to you.

You surely hadn’t expected to meet them here and it threw you off the loop for a second but Sam’s bright grin managed a genuine smile to reach your eyes. Bucky had turned around and you met his gaze briefly but before you could conjure up another smile or read his expression, Mr. Clark walked past you with a jingle of his keys, to open the door to his shop.

“That girl stood there pale as a ghost. Thought some water would do her well, eh?” he declared, letting out a gruff chuckle. “Don’t want her passing out on the sidewalk.” His voice, weathered by age, held a hint of concern, albeit expressed in a rather blunt manner that had a blush creeping up your cheeks in embarrassment.

The old man entered the store and you quickly fell into step behind him, not needing the two guys to dwell on your momentary discomfort.

You picked up that Sam had been about to say something but then a grunt escaped his lips behind you, followed by an aggravated “Damn you, man,” directed at Bucky who had evidently delivered a punch to Sam’s side.

You never really had entered Mr. Clark's store before - Never really were in need of a gardening supply but the interior bore the marks of age with a weathered elegance, the wooden shelves displaying an assortment of gardening supplies with a sense of rustic charm. Vintage gardening posters and faded photographs adorned the walls, adding to its nostalgic allure.

However, you barely had a moment to take in the store's ambiance before Mr. Clark practically ushered you into a wooden chair behind the small counter and disappeared behind a nearby door.

“Mr. Clark, you really don’t have to-” you began calling after him but your words were swiftly interrupted as he reappeared, handing you a glass of water.

“Drink the water, child,” he ordered and diverted his attention to the two guys standing a few feet away, seemingly caught up in a glaring contest. “And you two boys, stop with the stalling and get on with the work. That’s what you are here for, aren’t you?.”

With a final warning glare towards Sam, Bucky’s demeanor shifted from tense to purposeful as he began to pick up a lawn mower standing next to the entrance and moved the heavy machinery to where Mr. Clark indicated.

Meanwhile, Sam took charge of the flower pots, rearranging them with care. From your vantage point behind the counter, you observed their actions, nibbling at your water when Mr. Clark sent you a glare across the room. They didn’t appear to be here out of obligation or duty, but rather out of a genuine desire to assist an old man who needed a helping hand - not being able to do it on his own anymore, but without wanting to give up his well-loved shop.

It seemed so ordinary for them to be here and do the work for this old man, it made you wonder what else they did around town - what other acts of kindness they might be involved in. Guilt found its way back to you, settling in your stomach and making it churn. The revelation that they actually appeared to be good-hearted people, had first dawned on you after your first initial encounter two days ago, but seeing them like this, engaged in such a well-meant act of kindness, solidified that understanding even further.

You took a few more sips of the water, hoping its coolness would calm the fluttering sensations in your chest. But the effect was fleeting, especially when you caught sight of the smile Bucky directed towards Mr. Clark.

It wasn’t that kind of smile you knew of Sam but it was more you had seen of him at the bar. It lit up his features with warmth and sincerity, small crinkles formed at the edges of his eyes - it was disarmingly charming.

He had shrugged off his jacket to better tackle the task at hand, revealing toned muscles rippling beneath his long-sleeved shirt. Lifting another lawn mower with ease, Bucky’s back muscles contorted visibly. His hands were both covered with gloves and you noticed the little specks of dirt that had accumulated on his jeans throughout but he didn’t seem to mind.

You quickly averted your eyes upon noticing you yourself were watched. Dark eyes were fixed on you and your peripheral could make out the knowing smirk that grazed Sam’s face. Glancing around the gardening store once more, trying to maintain a fond of indifference after being caught ogling at his friend, you saw Sam turn back to his task but the smirk on his lips didn’t leave his face.

You took in the store a little more, looking out the forefront and imagining seeing little you walking by on your way home from school with your little backpack on, the zipper broken because it was always a little too packed. Sunlight filtered through, casting a warm glow over the interior and illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air. Wooden floorboards creaked under heavy boots.

You found appeal in the idea of helping out here yourself. It was a cozy place and you were in need of a job.

After your nightmare yesterday and the heartfelt conversation with Wanda, you had found a small sense of solace again. You both went to Pietro to check up on him and spent the day. When you also confided in him about your troubled past, Wanda and you had to ease him out of buying a ticket to Seattle to ‘show him how he deserves to be treated’. You had spent the whole day with them, filled with take-out and movies, bringing back that comfort you had missed for so long.

Nonetheless, Wanda had to return to her job today. After all, she had completed her graphic design degree and was working from home, designing a new logo for a local startup company. Not wanting to disrupt her creative flow, you had decided to take a leisurely walk around town earlier in the hope it would clear your mind and perhaps explore potential job opportunities in the area.

However, as you strolled through the familiar streets, you found yourself in front of your parent's house - well, which wasn’t their house anymore as it seemed.

Perhaps you might have even fled out of your new shared apartment with Wanda earlier. Watching her immersed in her graphic design work only served to amplify the ache in your heart. The urgency to secure a job as quickly as possible might stem from the deep-seated longing and regret that consumed you. You could have been in the same position as Wanda, pursuing a degree in graphic design and building a career from it.

You might not have been as talented or passionate as Wanda was and probably not as happy, but you also weren’t happy in the place you found yourself in right now - essentially losing three years of your life, along with the love of your parents and the sense of identity you once possessed could do that to a person.

“Do I need to get you some water as well, son? Work isn’t finished yet.”

Once again, Mr. Clark's voice jolted you back to the present, snapping you away from the tangle of thoughts that had consumed you. You turned your head, watching Bucky getting pulled out of wherever his own mind had drifted, grumbling a quick response to the elderly man and hastily making his way back towards the entrance to fiddle with a few gardening tools.

Sam wore that knowing smirk again, as he continued with his own task. It was clear that he had noticed Bucky’s momentary lapse in focus and was likely already formulating a teasing remark to poke fun at him later on. Well, that was how you imagined their kind of relationship to be.

You were intrigued to find out what might have caught Bucky’s attention that left him almost bashful after being caught.

Mr. Clark walked by you and you stood from the chair, taking the chance to talk to him. “I could help you out as well, Mr. Clark-” you started but got boldly interrupted again.

“I’ve got the boys already, child. They’re more than enough to keep an old man busy. No need for any more fuss,” he declared, dismissing your offer and taking the glass out of your hand to refill it again despite your protests, handing it back to you. “Don’t you have more pressing matters to attend to? A better job?”

You shook your head, your fingers tightened their hold on the glass. “Uhm. No, I’m still looking for one.”

“You’re looking for a job?”

Sam's voice behind you made you turn around to see him standing up and dusting off his jeans, his gaze on you.

“Sam,” Bucky warned sharply from his place, turning to him as well after adjusting a wheelbarrow, his movements stiff.

Sam seemed used to ignoring Bucky, his grin just widening and undeterred by the way Bucky’s hard glare burned holes in his side.

“We could use some help in the bar,” he continued, his voice casual but he still wore that ever-present smirk. The kind that made you think he knew something you didn’t.

Surprise etched your features and the tension that crackled in the air as you exchanged glances between Sam and Bucky left you a little unsettled. Bucky wasn’t meeting your eyes, his shoulders tense and his arms were held at his side awkwardly, fingers twitching.

Nonetheless, you couldn’t deny it was alluring - Sam’s suggestion. It would certainly be more exciting working in their bar than a gardening store, managed by a moody old man. The prospect of immersing yourself in the vibrant energy of a bustling bar scene appealed to the sense of distraction you could definitely use right now, in your current situation. And the bar surely held some sense of charm.

Bucky’s reaction though left you a little uneasy. Sure, it was a demanding job and not always that easy or even safe. Rowdy patrons, bar fights, and unwelcome advances from strangers were something you had to expect to happen in a bar, but you had experience, having worked in a bar in Seattle before Michael had put an end to it. He wouldn’t get a chance this time.

Perhaps Bucky didn’t believe you were capable of handling yourself in a bar environment. Yes, you had flinched this morning by the mundane sound of the kettle clicking off but did you actually look that helpless? A pang of indignation elicited in your stomach at the notion that Bucky might have already formed a judgment about your abilities grated against you. After all, you had navigated heated situations before with finesse - admittedly, you were lacking that kind of confidence now that you still had back then but you couldn’t help the small flicker of anger simmering inside you.

Your assumptions about Bucky’s reactions could possibly be off base, you had to acknowledge. You had been wrong about these guys before, forming your own judgments based on your imagined version of bikers so you considered the possibility that his apprehension had little to do with you, but rather himself. Whatever was going on inside his mind. He did seem like an overthinker if you were being honest.

But regardless of the reasons for his reaction, there was one thing you hadn’t lost; the stubborn sense to prove yourself.

Sam seemed to have read your answer in your expression, because his grin widened and he pulled out a gardening chair, sitting down and gesturing for you to take a seat on the one you had occupied before.

“We’re having a job interview,” he declared after you blinked at him in confusion, making it seem like it wasn’t utterly surreal to do this in the midst of a gardening store.

“Here? Now?”

A deep frustrated sigh caught your attention and you observed Bucky running a hand over his face in exasperation, mirroring his earlier actions outside the store. With another unsure glance at Sam, you hesitantly took a seat in front of him.

“Sam, don’t do this,” Bucky sighed, clearly done with him but Sam just pressed on with his agenda - leaning forward in his seat and fixing you with a feigned serious expression.

He started asking you about your full name and age, saving it in his phone. It was actually impressive how Sam managed to ignore the sharp glares of Bucky, while they made you shift on your rickety chair uncomfortably, although they weren’t even meant for you.

The relationship between those two remained a mystery to you. They were like opposing forces, caught in an eternal tug-of-war - Their banter full of irritation and teasing. You got a glimpse of their bickering at the bar and it seemed to be a normal occurrence. But then you noticed the subtle glances from Sam, as to check on Bucky and the almost fond clap on his shoulder after entering the store - they were breadcrumbs leading to a hidden story.

Eventually, Bucky redirected his attention back to the few gardening tools scattered in a corner - trowels, rakes, and a rusted watering can and started rearranging them. You watched him from the corner of your eye.

You offered Sam a court sketch of your past - the brief experience of college life that you abandoned to see the world beyond your little town. You left unsaid how your departure fractured the relationship with your parents, how their silence became a chasm. You skirted around their disappointment, the unspoken ache that wrapped around you like a well-worn scarf. The plans they had woven for you - the threads of stability, the safety net of expectations - and you had shredded them like old love letters. There was no need to delve into the guilt, the jagged edges of remorse.

To your surprise, Sam’s expression remained unclouded by judgment. His features were soft, understanding etched into the lines around his eyes and you felt yourself relax into the chair. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed the falter in Bucky's movements and the way his body stilled at one point of your recap, curious eyes flickering toward you. You kept your gaze on Sam.

“Where’d you go?”

Sam's inquiry hung over you, a weight pressing down on your chest. Your throat tightened and you cleared your throat before forcing yourself to respond, the word escaping in a curt tone.

“Seattle.”

Sam eased back into his chair, arms folding across his chest. “Impressive move,” he remarked with a smile and a slight nod of his head, “I’ve never been to Seattle, but it’s got that buzz for sure.” His words held a quiet enthusiasm, a stark contrast to your own muted tone. You longed to see the city through Sam’s eyes, to rediscover its vibrancy beyond the shadows that clung to your past there.

“Why did you come back?”

You should have expected Sam to ask that but your breath hitched nonetheless, the room seemingly closing in on you. Your mouth opened but nothing came out. Fingers fidgeted with the fabric of your jacket in your lap and your palms started getting clammy. Feigning indifference, you hesitated, as if carefully selecting your words.

“Uhm,” was all you managed, silence stretching like an eternity, though it was likely mere seconds only.

“You don’t have to answer that!”

Bucky’s voice cut through the air and your head snapped toward him, a touch startled. For a moment, you even forgot he was there, the clattering of the gardening tools had ceased probably a while ago already and he stood there standing in your direction. His gaze locked with yours, sincerity emanating from his blue eyes and something that looked a lot like a heavy understanding.

“Now stop this Sam, this is ridiculous.” Bucky’s gaze hardened again as it swung back to Sam. Said man rolled his eyes in a comical display of exasperation, arms flailing in the air.

“Can’t have fun with this guy,” he quipped, voice dripping with mock seriousness. Bucky exhaled a heavy breath as he returned to his work, the lines of his jaw etching in frustration.

Sam's attention shifted back to you, clapping his hands together with enthusiasm. “Alright, well,” he declared, “Welcome to the team! The job is yours.”

“You can’t decide that,” Bucky stated flatly, his back still turned to you.

Sam smirked, undeterred. “Sure can, man,” he countered, rising from his chair.

You observed them both quietly from your chair, grateful that the attention had shifted from you. You took a deep breath, savoring the momentary respite. However, the creak of the backroom door reminded you of the presence of Mr. Clark, who reappeared, his hooded eyes sweeping over you three.

“Is this a clandestine gathering, children?” he rasped, pointing his stick at each of you in turn. “Your work is done here, sons. Now get out of here, will you?”

Sam grinned and gave Bucky a clap on the back as he walked passed him to the entrance. “Until next week then, Mr. Clark,” he threw over his shoulder.

Bucky shot you a brief look and followed Sam with a nod to the old man.

“It was nice to see you again Mr. Clark,” you said before making your way to the entrance as well. Bucky held the door open for you and you thanked him as you stepped into the daylight.

“Need a ride home?” Bucky’s voice was gruff, yet gentler than you had heard before. Sam perked up at his question, surprise dancing across his features that quickly morphed into an amused smirk.

“That’s really nice, thank you,” you replied, your smile genuine. “But I’m not far, really.”

Bucky nodded, a fleeting smile curving his lips. “Alright well, get home safe then.” He swung his leg over his black bike - the one with the damaged front you noticed.

“Well Y/n, I guess we’ll be seeing you soon,” Sam remarked, throwing you a wink as he got on his own bike.

You exchanged quick goodbyes and soon enough the rumble of their bikes faded into the distance, leaving behind a lingering echo.

You chose the longer route home, deliberately avoiding the street that led past your parents' former house. The sun dipped lower secondly, casting elongated shadows on the pavement. The pebble you kicked along the sidewalk became your silent companion, its journey mirroring your own - a solitary wanderer seeking solace.

The irony of your situation didn’t escape you. A few days ago, the notion of accepting a job at a biker bar would have been laughable for you. But as you had learned, life had a way of upending expectations, revealing the hidden layers beneath the surface.

And as yesterday, Bucky etched his way into your thoughts. He was still an enigma to you. His gruff exterior, a fortress of stoicism, belied the intricate layers beneath. You got a glimpse of it again today. A softness that defied the world-worn facade. Determination stirred within you, urging you to unravel the mystery that surrounded him.

Since you would work in their bar now you were aware you’d see him more often and it filled you with a fluttering sensation - both thrilling and treacherous. You knew the risks, the precipice upon which you stood, but curiosity tugged at your sleeve.

He wasn’t easy to read, this biker with eyes like storm clouds. You wondered if you would ever learn to see behind the broodiness, the armor he wore like a second skin.

Perhaps you would find the key to unlock the enigma - the heart that beat beneath the leather.

“She’s battling things her smile will never tell you about”

- Jonny Ox

Tag list:

@heletsmelovehim @moonlightreader649

[thereadingfangirl]

𝐁𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐫 𝐁𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐀𝐔 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

A Good Man by @kaunis-sielu

Angel With A Shotgun by @kaunis-sielu

Don’t Let Go by @kaunis-sielu

It Feels Like Love & Drugs by @supersoldierslover

Just Married by @kaunis-sielu

Stitches by @kaunis-sielu

The Mailbox by @kaunis-sielu

Trouble by @kaunis-sielu

[tofumilkbread]

I think, modern!Loki on a Motorcycle with a man bun will fix me..

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

A Man Called Danger 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, violence, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

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

Summary: You avoid drama, you avoid confrontation, and overall, you avoid men. But some men can’t be denied. ~ short!late 30s reader

Characters: biker!Bucky Barnes

Note: I have no chill.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The morning comes too soon as you toss and turn through the night. You drag yourself out of bed and wrap yourself in your housecoat before braving the cold floors of the house. It isn’t a big place but it traps draughts like a tundra cavern.

You put on a pot of coffee to brew and go through your typical routine. That day is different as you listen for Eva. You told yourself last night, you’re going to lay off. You’re going to let her figure herself out.

As you take a jar of prepared overnight oats out of the fridge and fish out a protein bar for the mid-afternoon, you hear your sister sniff. She yawns as she enters. To your surprise and relief, she dressed, presentably so. She leans on the other side of the counter and flicks her lashes.

“Coffee?” She asks, sounding only a bit desperate.

“Some left,” you confirm.

She grumbles and comes around to get her own mug and pours with another yawn. You could say it. I told you so. I told you not to stay out late for your first day. At least she’s awake.

“Good luck,” you say as you zip up your small lunch bag.

“Right,” she turns and leans on the granite and blows over the mug. You peek over your shoulder as she narrows her eyes. “How did you find me last night?”

You withhold a sigh. You don’t want to argue. You don’t need her walking into her first day in a mood.

“Eva, we can talk later.”

She’s quiet, “really? You’re tracking me?”

You grab your mug, “I really need to get ready.”

“Sure,” she scoffs.

Silence roils and you make yourself face her. “I deleted it last night, okay? I meant it. You’re an adult. You’re going to do what you’re going to do.”

“You still did that,” she says.

“I did and I’m sorry,” you admit. “I won’t make excuses. We can’t keep doing this.” You chew your lip and tap your fingers on the porcelain cup, “I just hope this works out. It’ll be nice for you to have some extra cash.”

“Sure,” she shrugs.

You leave it. She’s going to simmer for a while. In her shoes, you would too. You take your coffee into the bathroom and put it on the counter. As you open the mirror to grab your face cleanser, you wince. You blow through your lips as you shut the reflective door.

You put the bottle down and untie your house coat. You roll up your camisole and cringe. You gently touch the tender spot along your ribs. It's bruised pretty good. The bone hurts too but you’re not too worried about a break.

You shudder and ignore the soreness as you go through the steps. Cleanse, moisturise, tone. Brush your teeth, figure out your hair. Then only a swipe of mascara, a tint of lip stain, and a subtle kiss from your blush stick. Natural but something. You were never one for the whole primer to highlighter parade.

You put on a striped blue blouse and a pair of grey herringbone pants. You spritz a bit of jasmine body spray over yourself then go to get your lunch and purse. You step into your leather loafers and shrug on your beige jacket.

“Eva, am I driving you?” You call down.

“Coming,” she scuffles around unseen before she appears.

If she isn’t in the best mood, she does look her best. She’s added a rosegold chain to her skirt and sweater combo, and a pair of slingback kitten heels, some earrings, and her face and hair are just perfectly done. Not too much, not too little. Her freckles peek through and give her a little extra character.

“Wow, you look nice,” you praise.

“Really? You look dead inside,” she snickers.

You’re relieved that she’s joking. You take it with a shrug, “Time of death, I’d say ten years ago.” She rolls her eyes, “you bring something to eat?”

“Nah, I looked up the place. It’s near Sage. I’ll go there.”

“Okay,” you accept. You’re not sure where she got the money to do so. You eat in chronically but she’s always out with her friends getting all the fancy lattes and fusions.

You head out, not used to the company. It's about time she got something going. She worked at the dentist office for a summer in high school but she hated her boss. You told her that she probably always will. Lord knows you’re no fan of yours.

“No pressure, but try to make this one work, Eva,” you say. “I called in a favour for it.”

“I know,” she snips. “You don’t need to remind me. I didn’t ask, you know?”

“I’m not—I just—I only want the best,” you resign. “I shouldn’t project. I know you will do wonderfully.”

She blows a raspberry, “alright, cheesy.”

You steer along the usual route. Her building is only a block from yours. You drop her off like you would outside school. Her teen years were rough. For you, but not her. After you left her with your mom, you made sure she got to graduation. You feel like you owe her so much more for abandoning her for so long. If you hadn’t though, would you be here? Would you be able to get her out at all?

You continue down to your office building. There’s a loud rumble behind you. A motorcycle. You hate the things. They remind you of someone you’d rather not think of. Not to mention they’re noisy and put out pollution like crazy.

You flip on your blinker as the early morning rider skims past you. Your parking past dangles from the rear view as you find a spot in the grid. You gather up your things and ready yourself for another day.

You march inside and opt for the stairs. You try to skip the elevator at least three times a week. Your job keeps you idle far too much. Even with a standing desk. As you climb, your breath picks up and the bruise on your side throbs. You should’ve popped some advil.

You get to your floor and get yourself set up. You raise the desk and straighten the standing mat. You sign into your station and start down the new list of orders. As you ease into the morning, others arrive and groggily do the same.

Your fingers skitter over the keyboard in a flurry. As you send another request to the mail dock, a shadow appears in your peripheral. Mr. Walker leans the corner of your desk. For a moment, you wonder if he has a brother or cousin that likes to troll the bars for young girls.

Your boss puts his other hand on his hip. Even with your desk raised, he dwarfs it with his size. You pause your typing and look at him.

“Morning, Mr. Walker,” you say.

“Morning,” he returns. “I didn’t even see you here, hiding.”

That’s the problem. Standing, sitting, no one notices you behind the double monitors.

“Big day, huh?” He asks.

You stare at him, confused for a moment.

“Yeah, Hansen was saying your sister starts today?”

“Right, uh, yeah,” you affirm. “Thanks, again. I really appreciated the referral.”

“You’re a hard worker,” he says.

“Thank you, sir.”

“Hansen is a bit of a hard ass. I should’ve warned you.” He adds.

You nearly blurt out your first thought; look who’s talking.

“I’m sure she’ll do fine, she is your sister,” he remarks as his fingers curl around the corner of the desk. “Really kind of you to take her in.”

You don’t think you’ve ever spoken so much to Walker. Not since you asked him to put in a good word for Eva. Even then, he kept to his short replies and grunts.

“She’s family,” you say.

“Sure, but... I don’t know. Thought you would already have one of those,” he replies. You tweak a brow. “Kids, husband? I always sort of assumed...”

“A woman my age, yeah.”

“I wouldn’t... no, not because of that, I just... you’re very responsible.”

“Thank you, sir,” you shift on your soles. “I was just getting started on that Lafayette order.”

“Mmmm,” he hums and tilts his head. He drags his hand down his tie. He’s a big man. Most people are compared to you but he’s gargantuan. “Always working hard.”

“Yes, sir,” you look at your screen and click on the spreadsheet, changing the cell colour of the last completed order.

“Let me know if there’s anything else you need from me,” he slaps the corner of your desk then struts off.

You stay focused on your screens. That was strange but you’re not stupid. He’s reminding you of his favour. He wants you to remember that you owe him. You’re sure you’ll be picking up overtime to pay him back.

Work rolls on. Dull, repetitive, but it pays the bills. You eat your oats at your desk as you make your way through the daily rota. You can’t help but notice Mr. Walker’s frequent trips to the break room. It tempts you to grab a coffee yourself as your eyes burn but you resist. You're trying to cut back on caffeine.

When the day ends, your protein bar sits beside the base of your monitor. You’re hungry but you can wait for supper. You sign off and lock your desk. You check your phone. No messages from Eva. Is that good or bad?

As you come into the overcast afternoon, the day weighs in your shoulders and hips. All day you can’t wait to be done but by the time you’re free, you’re exhausted. You dig out your keys and traipse along the row of bumpers to your car.

You hit the button to unlock the Honda and the roar of a motorcycle tears through the air. To your surprise, it only gets louder. You have the door open as its shadow rolls up behind your car. You throw your bags into the passenger seat and ignore it. That is until, the engine quiets and the steel beast doesn’t move from behind your vehicle.

Don’t tell me Eva hopped on someone’s bike. She would. A final act of rebellion before she surrenders to corporate purgatory. You look over, further disappointed by what really awaits you.

The man in leather undoes his helmet, vintage without a visor or anything. He tucks it under his arm and slides off his sunglasses. You recognise him. That’s not good.

His jacket is zipped to his chin but you’re certain that gold medallion hangs against his chest. It’s the same man as the night before. The one that was a little too late. How did he find you?

You shake your head and dip into the driver’s seat. Before you can close the door, his gloved hand is on it. He keeps it open as he steps up. You sigh.

“Sir, would you kindly move your bike?” You drone as you ram your keys into the ignition.

“Hey, doll, just wanna talk,” he says.

“I have somewhere to be,” you reach for the door and he steps closer, inserting himself so you couln’t close if you try.

You keep your eyes aimed at the windshield. Your other hand reaches for your purse. He clucks.

"Now, you don't gotta go calling anyone. Got a few buddies on the force I wouldn't mind catching up with but I'm being good," he steps back and shows his palms. "Just curious."

"I said I'm on my way somewhere--" you begin and grip the wheel.

"To get your daughter? You're a good mom--"

You stay silent. There's not much you can say that won't make this worse. It's none of your business. Piss off. A few choice epithets.

You search the brick wall ahead of you. Your heart beats faster and faster. No matter how you avoid men, they make themselves a problem.

You grab the shifter and crank it. You hit the gas and jerk backwards. You hit his bike and it crashes with a clatter. He let's go of the door as the door jars him.

"The fuck?" He exclaims.

You have just enough room to turn through the empty spot next to you. It's a deep spin of the wheel but you manage to redirect and roll past his bike.

As you swerve around and set the car straight, you glance over. He rubs his shoulder as he watches you, approaching his overturned bike with stunned steps. To your surprise, there's a big grin across his face.

Shit.

You stomp the pedal and tear out of the lot. You don't look as you turn into traffic and you squeeze the wheel until your knuckles hurt. What the fuck!

[mrs-barnes-rogers-writes]

Sometimes Your Soul Family Is The Only Family You Need - Part 2

Marvel AU

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader x Steve Rogers

Summary: 18 months ago you were a mess but with the help of your close friends you start to rebuild your life. Your soul friendships maybe chaotic but they're your family, just as you're theirs. With one of them about to have a baby, you and your misfit friends are here to visit. But will you stay? And what will the small town think of you having two soulmates and why do you keep finding yourself in the same place as a bunch of hot bikers.

"Sometimes families are assholes, sometimes your soul connections mean far more than family ever can. Sometimes your soul family is the only family you need." - Nurse Maggie

Chapter Warning: Premature labour mentioned, mention of miscarriage

Chapter Summary: The reader and Ryan arrive and the fluttering in readers chest is nothing right? RIGHT???

Your ass was well and truly numb, and Ryan had possibly napped more than he ever had. You glanced over at him in the passenger seat. Passenger Princess.

Ryan had come into your life at a time you needed him most. You'd left home, quickly after your soul letters had appeared. They weren't your standard letters though. You had two lots of letters on your wrist and to say your family was shocked was an understatement.

Your Dad had immediately branded you a whore and made it clear you weren't welcome in the house anymore. Your siblings, all older and already with homes of their own, either shrugged or pointed out it WAS his house.

A very emotional phone call between you and an old school friend, had led you to pack a case and grab your passport. Days later you were in Spain working the season at a fancy hotel.

You and Ryan had started on the same day. Both of you escaping home. You for apparently being a whore and him for being gay. You were allocated a small one bed apartment to share and a friendship was formed. After an issue with accommodation, and more people joining the season, you were joined by Annemarie, Darcy and Wanda. The snap of being soul friends happened the moment they stepped into the apartment.

Over the next few weeks you would all begin to come back together, as Annemarie welcomed her baby. It was sooner than it should be and the knots in your stomach had meant you'd not ate all day. You were probably the most worried you'd ever been. You didn't want her to go through what you had. She was much further along in her pregnancy and it would make it hundreds time worse.

Your baby, a boy you'd thought, would have been..............STOP. Stop it right now, you told yourself as the lump formed in your throat and a tear ran down your face.

You spotted a sign for Brook Town and placed your hand on Ryan's leg and tapped lightly.

"Ry, Ry, Ryyyyyyyyyyyyyy"

"Urghhhhhhhhhhhh, this better be good"

"Were almost there."

"Oh. Babe did we even stop?"

You shook your head.

"Y/N! You should have taken a break!"

"It's fine. I just want to get there. I don't want her to be on her own."

Ryan's heart sinks when he realises. This isn't just about getting to your best friend quickly, it's that she has someone with her.

"Babe, she's not on her own. Daniel is there."

"I know, I know. You know what I mean." she reply glancing over at him, and he knows immediately what you mean. He still thinks of you in that hospital bed. How you looked so alone when he'd arrived, even when your Mum had decided to make an appearance.

He squeezed your arm and leaned over planting a kiss on your cheek.

"I know, I know."

"She only has him right now."

"I know and he probably needs us too. His family are still on vacation right?"

"I think so." you replied as you're mind started to wander again, Ryan squeezed your arm again. You smiled at him and pushed your intrusive thoughts back.

"So the pie shop and then the hospital right?"

"Yep" Ryan replied, pointing to the row of stores as you approached it "it's the second one along."

You parked immediately in front of the store, the evening setting in meaning it was a quiet time for shoppers. The store was open for another fifteen minutes but that didn't stop Ryan rushing in.

"I'll go in, you take a break, hopefully they haven't sold the pregnant lady's pie."

You snorted with laughter as he dashed in, deciding stretching your legs was a good idea. Your legs cramped up as you tried and you groaned loudly as you got out.

"Fuck me."

You heard a snort of laughter and looked around to find a set of piercing blue grey eyes looking at you. And there it was the fluttering in your chest.

[thedonswife13]

So many emotions thrown around in this chapter

Loki to the rescue? Did not see that coming

Howlin’ For You - Part 9/?

Description: When Y/N gets an unreal deal on her first home, she wonders why her neighbor scared away all the other buyers. Despite being cautious, she doesn’t fully understand what gave Bucky Barnes such a bad name.

Pairing: AU - Biker!Bucky x Fem/Reader

Word Count: 4,520

Previously On…

“Y/N?”

She snapped out of her thoughts, realizing that Agent Stark had been repeatedly calling her name.

“I’m sorry. What were you saying?” Y/N’s eyes blinked rapidly as she looked up from her seat to find Rhodes and Stark exchanging a look.

“Go home, kid.” Tony demanded softly.

“But…” She began.

“Y/N, we’ve been at this for weeks now. You look exhausted.” Rhodes cut her off.

Keep reading

[bbluefllame]

𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓 .ᐟ

synopsis: college au texts (& small hcs) with the girls + tropes<3

characters: jinx, vi, caitlyn, sevika

notes: SHE'S BACKKKKK!!! sorry for being gone for so long #igotintoleagueoflegends(thegame.), regular posting will be back !! other than that, sevikas part was my fave bless.

vi. + fake dating (also biker! vi)

- how this whole fake dating thing started was through a hook up actually!!

- both of you got shitfaced & you two were already friends, so after vi saw Maddie with caitlyn she was like "nah fuck it I'm gonna get her back!!" (classic, sigh.)

- this is random, but she's actually a really good cook (in my head) and she's probably made some fire meals 4 you

- for some reason.. she gives me xxxtentacion listener like she loves "I don't even speak Spanish lol" in this au but when she's emo over cait, bring out the sad! and shit like that 😭

- her ass would be on the ground staring at the ceiling, sad! blasting, and her roommate would be like SHUT THAT SHIT DOWN!!!!!

- avid marvel rivals player, loves luna snow no questions.

- don't ask why she texts like that she js does 😔

- she goes "this is for you" before scoring in a game and trips while running and falls on her face instead😭

- she is nawt NAWT!! a womanizer(?) fuckgirl(is that the female equivalent?????) idgaf what ppl say, sure she flirts occasionally but she's super loyal if she's in a rs, she's an awesome gf !!! we love vi in this household!!!!

jinx. + childhood bsfs 2 lovers

- matching pfps & bios on tiktok and insta I'm telling u. it'd be smth like "sniper, sniper, sniper" then "wifey, wifey, wifey"

- random hc cs yay, vi probably accidentally killed her pet hamster when they were kids and you had to comfort her cs her ass was crying for HOURRSSSS. there was a funeral for it with a tiny casket. (it died cs of the microwave beeping when vi's instant noodles were done)

- one of those ppl who gets high grades without trying, don't ask her grade unless you wanna feel hurt cs she js says "98" while being hungover.

- her music taste is so all over the place but I'm so certain she sticks to loud music!! she gets sleepy if it's calm😭

- engineering major no doubt abt it

- doesn't know how to cook but not cs she can't, it's bcs she doesn't want to

- she probably asked you out in a cutesy way like imagine after ur bday you're watching the stars tg and she's like staring at you w hearts in her eyes and she js says "I love you" and you're like "awww I love you too!!" cs ur bsfs, but she then repeats it "no like I LOVE you" and ur like woah.. then u start to makeout or whatever w stars in the bg, end scene!!

- genuinely the best gift giver ever, everything's homemade and made w love 🙏🙏 i lauv her sm😔😔

caitlyn. + academic rivals (+ forced proximity)

first pic isn't rlly connected to the rest, js to show their rs

- after the project you two actually got alot closer, you could even say FRIENDS 🤯, there is still competition but it isn't like as bad as before, it's more so "Haha, I got higher." "wtvvv 🙄 I'll buy u ice cream 😔"

- sevika was the prof btw, she wanted to fuck with u guys 🙏

- archer cait. that's all I gotta say. (also equestrian u can't tell me other wise)

- HEAR ME OUT! imagine she invites you to her archery training & during it ur like, "Can I try?" she says alright and then when you're holding the bow she goes behind you and starts fixing how ur holding it, then she wraps a hand around ur waist and brushes it off as "oh your posture was incorrect" when she lets go.

- moving on, I imagine her having a doll collection like don't ask why but she collects monster high dolls. (please ask her about every single doll, she'll proudly infodump)

- when u get closer to her she's alot less formal, its very cutie of her !!!

- has a fitness tiktok account and she drinks apple cider vinegar daily (NASTYYYY IDGAF IF ITS HEALTHY!!!!).

- modern au cait is like a cat in my head, idk she's js so cutie in it please give her love that's it😔

sevika. + grumpy x sunshine (professor! sevika)

- her students try to tease her when she smiles at your notes, she shuts them down so fast it's scary. her expression goes from 😊 to 🤨, then they stfu and go to their seat.

- only person who teases her and gets away with it is jinx I fear.

- you and sevika have a nightly routine of dancing together (she's so soft w u don't play w me.) her fave song to play is love by Keyshia Cole (ARGUFJWHFIWJ 😭😭😭😭😭)

- regular gym goer, she has an insta she barely posts on besides the occasional video of her hitting a new record while her students comment "omg MISS SEVIKA!!!!!" then she blocks them when she sees the notif.

- doesn't trust anyone to cut her hair besides you cs apparently you js do it better, her words, not mine! 🤷‍♀️

- one of those, mean to everyone besides you, types (minus isha and jinx cs those r FAM!)

- loves reading idk I js get that vibe from her, after a long day, she opens her kindle (that she got from you as a bday gift) and relaxes.

- first time her students saw you, they glanced at both of you like a million times before it registered you were together, cs how'd she end up with such a sweet cutie!!

- they ask her a billion questions and she's like "I don't talk about my personal life, end of story."

- she's trying to quit smoking for u trust 😞 it's js hard but she's getting there!!

- she loves u so dearly please never let go of her.😔😔

sevikas part was too long I'm sorry 😭 ...there were gonna be a couple NSFW hcs for her but 5 minutes after I wrote them I got food poisoning so I was like "I'll die if I post them."😔😔 anws hope u liked these

[wonderjanga]

Marvel Being an Old Man

For this AU Billy was born in 1928. He became Marvel in 1940. He would’ve been twelve years old. Now in this AU, the time bubble never formed, Billy and anyone else who had a Marvel form just aged extremely slowly. Like, every 100 years he ages a single year.

Like, an example of him being old would be that he’d have been alive during and for the end of prohibition and the Great Depression.

Aquaman: “You coming for drinks, Cap?”

Marvel: “Uh… no. I don’t drink.”

Aquaman: “Why? What’s not to love about alcohol?”

Marvel: “Well, you know, I didn’t really get into it as a kid cause it was banned at the time. Then I tried some a while ago and it was nasty. If it hadn’t been banned I’m sure I would love it.” *shrugs*

Aquaman: “Why would you love it as a kid?” *raises eyebrow*

Marvel: “The Great Depression.”

Aquaman: “What.”

Marvel: “The Great Depression. There was also prohibition too so even if I wanted it, I couldn’t have it.”

Aquaman: *rapid blinks* “Buddy, I don’t know why I keep forgetting you’re an immortal demigod.”

Marvel: (Billy is in fact not an immortal) “Yeah.” *shrugs* He’d also act like those old people that are rude without even realizing it. Like when he met Beast Boy for the first time, he asked him if he was a hippie.

Marvel: *staring at Beast Boy, thinking*

BB: “Uh… What is it?”

Marvel: “Are you a hippie?”

BB: “What’s that?”

Marvel: “A treehugger.”

BB: “Oh uh I guess.”

Marvel: *cocks head to side and judgmentally looks BB up and down* “Do you do marijuana? (Mari-juh-wana)

BB: “WHAT? NO??”

Marvel: “Oh. Never mind then.” *judgmental look disappears instantly and he’s sunny smiling*

Then, when he first saw Punk Kon he immediately thought of the punk counterculture he saw in the 60s and 70s.

Marvel: “I’m… I’m going to say this as nicely as possible.” *places hand on Kon’s shoulder* “You look like a gangbanger.”

Superman: *blanches at that*

Marvel: “Like, straight from the 70s. You look like a biker guy I knew. Granted, you’re way skinnier, but still.”

Kon: “Sooooo… You’re complimenting me?”

Marvel: “I guess. He gave me food. That makes him good in my opinion.”

Kon: “Oh. Sweet.”

Billy would’ve also lived through McCarthyism, and after WW2, every American was testy when it came to communism. So, let’s say two leaguers are talking about Paul McCarthy for whatever reason.

Marvel: “Man, fuck McCarthy!”

Two Leaguers: “Why?” *concerned because Marvel’s literally never cursed near the league*

Marvel: “He put me on the list! He put me on the list even though I don’t work for the government!”

Two Leaguers: “What list..?”

Marvel: “The commie list! Get with the program!” *proceeds to hate-rant about Paul McCarthy for about 20 minutes*

Two Leaguers: *didn’t know Marvel could even feel hatred*

[icarusredwings]

Getting deep into the x men fandom means seeing ships I don't agree with, so I don't interact, seeing posts that mischaraterizes one of the deepest charaters possible, so I don't interact, Seeing people actively say things that are blatantly wrong, so I don't interact.

Getting a large following is also kind of frustrating (Im not complaining I love you guys!) But I've had to block 2 people already today because they keep leaving rude replies to my comments on OTHER peoples posts or purposly come to my blog to tell me that how I view a charater is wrong. Had someone tell me that the stuff that happens in MY au is dumb because "that would never happen" like yeah bud. The writers at Marvel are too much of cowards for it to happen, hence why i'm here.

So my thing is... if im chosing not to interact with all of this- why is it still on my feed?

I feel like the more I ignore it the more I see and I do not wish to be the type to block someone simply because they make one post about a ship that personally isn't my cup of tea.

Also- I think Im starting to see the different sides of extremes, especially when it comes to one specifc charater.

Logan.

I have seen dozens of lovely stories, lovely rants, lovely head canons about this man-

But something that feels weird (to me at least) is people who are 45+ yelling at people who aren't even 18 that their story/headcanons are trash because they've "been enjoying Logan for 40+ years" as if this gives them any right to tell a 17 year old that they shouldnt write a charater how they see them.

It's also weird to me that there seems to be two sides.

Logan IS an animal and that's perfectly okay.

Or

Logan ISN'T an animal, and everyone who headcanons him as animalistic is fetishizing his mutation and are insulting him.

I get not liking a certain trope, but sir, that person is young enough to be your child. You have to accept that we all grew up with different versions of each charater. I Personally didn't grow up with any and get the luxury of indulging in all sorts of media all at once- therefore getting to see him from multiple sides and pictures.

I completely understand if you grew up with the original series and are upset to see that kids are headcanoning your stone cold angst biker man as wearing bow clips and 'making biscuits' on a pillow while watching gilmore girl with his boyfriend, and wearing pink fluffy hello kitty pants and a tight shirt that says "Milk"

I completely understand if you grew up with the movies and see him as a sexy gruff hot buff man and you love to write lots and lots of steamy x reader about him.

I completely understand if you LIKE logan wearing hello kitty pants and don't agree with the idea of him being a dark edgelord, lone wolf charater.

Do you know what I don't understand? Fighting over a charater when different timelines have been canon since the 80s. The Time Variance Authority (TVA) first appeared in Thor #372 (October 1986) which means ALL of your logans are the correct logan. Just not all the same.

Do I think Wolverine Orgins Logan would wear pink hello kitty pants? Nah.

Do I know that Deadpool and wolverine Logan is a whole different universe then Orgins Logan? Yes.

That's why people tag different logans and different aus. So what is all the fuss about?? What happened to the more the merrier?

Theres so many different versions of comic book logan, too, so don't even go there.

Feel free to ask my personal opinions but as far as I stand I could never be foolish enough to seriously go into someone elses post and genuinely be upset at them for how they perceive a charater. I get second hand embaressment when ever I see ANYONE doing it.

Thanks for coming to my ted talk. I don't care if I lose followers for this. Let the door hit you on the way out. There aint no reason to be harrassing folks.

[needmorereading]

I loved this so much! They're both so whipped 😍😍

Amazing fic, as usual ❤️ love your work!

And biker Bucky in a suit is just 🤤🤤🤤

All Dressed Up

Pairing: Biker!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky visits a gallery to support his best friend and unexpectedly meets the girl of his dreams.

Word Count: Over 2.3k

Warnings: First meeting, mild dirty thoughts, instacrush, swearing, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: Okay, lovelies. A new AU. I'm sorry. @targaryenvampireslayer @tavners @starlightcrystalline @whisperlullaby @sgt-seabass @vesearlee , I feel like you all either heard me screech, encouraged, or helped me, and I appreciate you. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo and divider by the incredible @firefly-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky didn’t dress up for most people since it wasn’t his style. He would do so for any of his brothers though, especially Steve. His best friend since childhood, and his club’s president, he always had a love and talent for drawing and painting. And after working his ass off on his exhibit it would’ve been a crime for the vice president not to show up.

Steve promised if there was ever a day when Bucky’s writing became published he’d be by his side to celebrate too. As much as they liked to give each other shit sometimes about art and how they created it, the support was there through and through. The only catch for tonight was that he had to dress nicely to get into the gallery. So, instead of the usual leather jacket or vest he wore and jeans, he went with a plain black suit and white button up shirt.

He refused to wear a tie since it wasn’t a wedding. He had to draw a line somewhere. No one paid him any mind though as they walked around the gallery, and he was more than fine with that. This wasn’t his night.

“You should be proud, punk,” Bucky said, looking over the art lining the large wall, each piece crafted with care.

“I am proud, jerk,” Steve smiled. He hadn’t worn a tie either, and it made Bucky feel a little better. “And you know you don’t have to stay the whole time.”

Bucky knew that. He also knew members and prospects would be trickling in and out throughout the evening. “Not needed at the bar tonight, so I can stay as long as I want. But I might cut out early since I see your face enough between that and the club.”

Steve chuckled. “Still haven’t sold the place, huh?”

The brunette sighed. It wasn’t the first time Steve asked if he was going to sell the bar to focus more on writing. “Where the hell would you all hang out if I sold the place?” He liked the bar. It wasn’t just a great hangout for the club, but for his other regulars, too.

“There are other bars,” Steve teased. He said that, but he loved the bar, too. “You know I just want you to-”

“Follow my compass. I know. You’ve said that so many…” He stopped talking when he saw an unexpected angel walk into the room.

Well, angel was the word that came to mind since you were wearing a white dress and the light over your head illuminated you like a halo. But as his eyes swept over you, he wondered if there was a bit of a devil in you. He wouldn’t mind bringing that side out of you if you gave him the chance.

And here he used to think love at first sight was bullshit.

“Hey. Do you know her?” Bucky subtly nodded in your direction as you spoke to another woman, jealousy flaring up for a second at the thought of his best friend knowing you and not telling him. And if you knew Steve, that was that before things even started. While the blonde didn’t have much game growing up, he came into his own after his growth spurt, and everyone adored or wanted him.

Steve shook his head. “No, I don’t,” he said, making Bucky’s shoulders slump in relief before his friend scrutinized him. “Jesus, are you eye fucking her? You are, aren’t you?”

Bucky wasn’t the least bit ashamed. “And I’ll keep doing it ‘til she looks at me,” he replied, wishing you’d at least spare him a glance and get a look at him in his nice suit. Maybe you weren’t into guys with tattoos and piercings, but he was certain he could change your mind if that was the case.

“How long has it been since you’ve been on a date?” Steve asked. “Just introduce yourself like a gentleman and see where that goes.”

“A couple of months? Something like that.” Tearing his gaze away to glance at his inked hands, he chuckled. “You think I’m a gentleman?”

He could be dangerous and downright dirty when the occasion called for it, but just because he rode a motorcycle and covered himself in tattoos and piercings didn’t mean he treated others poorly. He was raised better than that. Even with his ex-girlfriends, things never ended because he didn’t treat them well. They just weren’t the one.

“We both know you are. Sometimes,” Steve answered, smirking as a beat passed. “And she’s looking your way.”

Bucky’s head snapped up to find you looking right at him with a curious stare. You had the prettiest eyes he had ever seen. Which was nothing compared to your smile. It was like watching the sun slowly rise to meet the day.

Fuck, he was being sappy. You ruined him with a single stare, and he wanted to ruin you in return. Make it so you wouldn’t want another man.

You whispered something to the woman beside you before she nudged you forward and he realized Steve pushed him to move, too. It only took three more steps before he was right in front of you, the gentle smell of your sweet perfume filling his nostrils. Need slammed into his body as you smiled again, and he actually felt the blue of his eyes shrink as his pupils widened.

If Steve thought he was eye fucking you before…

“Hey,” he said, his voice raspier than usual.

“Hi,” you said. It was a voice he could listen to for hours and he wondered what it would sound like when you said his name.

“I’m Bucky.” He took a smaller step closer, trying his damnedest to block out any other man around him so you’d keep those pretty eyes on him.

You introduced yourself, too, and it was a name he would never forget. “I like your tattoos,” you added almost shyly. Almost.

If he had his way, you’d see the rest of them soon enough. “Thanks,” he smiled, holding one hand up to show you. “Dressed like this, I bet you think I’m part of the mob.” After getting dressed and adding the gold jewelry, even he thought for a split second he looked like a mobster.

“Are you or is that information I can’t be privy to?” you asked, making him chuckle. You didn’t skip a beat, and he liked that.

“Not part of the mob, but I am part of a motorcycle club,” he replied. He wore his patch with pride and that didn’t seem to scare you, which was good. “I also own a bar.” He didn’t know why added that part. You didn’t ask and he didn’t want to brag, but there he was.

“So, you ride a motorcycle, and you own a bar?” You glanced back at your friend to ask her, “Do you mind if I…”

“I’m good. You two talk,” your friend smiled, giving Bucky an encouraging wink. He looked back to find that Steve walked away, too.

You smiled as you faced Bucky again. “Well, I’m happy to hear more about either of those things if you have time.”

“Yeah.” A lopsided smile appeared before he could stop it. “I got time,” he said. All the time in the world.

Over the next hour, the two of you stayed close together and talked in between looking at Steve’s pieces. He told you he was there to support Steve and talked a little bit more about the bar he owned. A hole in the wall kind of place he fixed up. While he wasn’t a big drinker, he loved making them for his regulars, and his profession allowed him to get away with all the tattoos.

“I’ll have to stop by sometime,” you smiled before it faltered. “If that’s okay.”

He didn’t want to get his hopes up, but his heart raced, and he wanted to see you smile again. “I’ll hold you to that,” he teased. “What about you? What do you do for work?”

You told him that you were a blood bank nurse and still fairly new to the area. While you didn’t have too many friends nearby, you liked your neighborhood and the one friend you had made invited you to the gallery since she was an art enthusiast. You also let it slip that you were single upon your move here, which he was happy to hear since he was, too, but he didn’t miss the note of sadness in your voice.

He could help fix it if you were lonely.

“I’m not seeing anyone either,” he stated.

You raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “You don’t have an old lady?” His eyes went right to your lip when he bit it. “That is the correct term of endearment, right?”

“That’s right,” he said, his eyes soft. “Both of those things are right.”

You bit your lip again and he wasn’t sure if you were purposely trying to entice him, but now he wanted to bite your lip. “So, do you do anything for fun outside of riding and work?”

He almost groaned when you said “riding” and he had to shake his head to keep his mind from drifting. He couldn’t think of you being on his bike with your arms wrapped tight around him or you riding him or anything like that. “Well…”

He explained that he wrote a bit in his spare time outside of work and the club. It was a hobby mostly, but it would be a dream come true to get his work out there one day. If not, that was okay, too, because he had a decent life and didn’t need much. His bike, his brothers.

But to have an old lady…

“Maybe I could read…” you frowned when you saw the time. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize how late it was. I should get going,” you said, disappointment filling both of you.

“Oh.” He scratched the back of his neck. The two of you were having a nice talk, and he hadn’t had a chance to ask about your hobbies yet. “It’s still kinda early. Do you really have to go?” he asked, realizing just how desperate he sounded. God, if the prospects could hear him right now… He just didn’t want the night to end.

“Yeah, I do. I’m actually working a blood drive tomorrow and could use the rest,” you said, smiling sadly. He felt like an ass for asking you to stay when you had work to do. “I don’t know if you’ve heard anything about it, but you’re welcome to stop by if you want to donate. I always have this fear that people won’t show, which I realize sounds ridiculous.”

Bucky mentally kicked his ass for not knowing about a local blood drive. He was usually more on top of those sorts of things. “Where’s it at?” You gave the location and time, which was all he needed. “I’ll be there,” he promised.

And every single club member would be there, too, if they knew what was good for them.

“Really?” you smiled, your hand bumping his when you turned to face him. “You’ll go?”

He let his fingers brush yours and he smiled to himself when he felt the light shiver. “Of course, doll.”

“Doll?” you giggled. He hoped he didn’t offend you. “I hope you show,” you added in a small voice, your gaze focused on the ground.

Frowning a bit, he wondered if you didn’t believe him. Did someone let you down before? “If I say I’ll be there…” He lifted your chin, so you’d look into his eyes. He needed you to see the truth in them. “I’ll be there.”

You exhaled, staring deeply into his eyes. “I’ll see you tomorrow then,” you whispered.

He grudgingly released you, knowing he had to. Besides, if he kept touching you, there was a good chance he’d pin you against the wall and show you what a work of art you were. “Good night,” he whispered, watching you go back to your friend. She linked her arm with yours as you glanced back, keeping your eyes on Bucky until you were out of sight.

He exhaled, mentally kicking his ass again. Why the fuck didn’t he ask for your number? You two hit it off, and you wanted to see him at least in some capacity beyond the blood drive, right?

Steve made a beeline for him as he stayed rooted to the spot. “It looks like you two hit it off. You know you didn’t even say hi to Chris or Sam or-”

“We’re going to a blood drive tomorrow,” he cut in. He hoped people would show, but he gave you his word he’d be there, and the club was all about giving back to the community.

The blonde’s eyebrows pinched. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Blood drive. Tomorrow. Everyone,” he said, giving his friend a hard stare. “You’re the president. Make it happen.”

“You’re the vice president, which means you supervise plans for club events or gatherings. That includes last minute things,” he pointed out, his eyebrows shooting up as Bucky got his phone out and typed quickly. “You’re serious about this?”

“Is it too much to say, ‘You better fucking be there or you’ll pay for it later’?”

The blonde grinned. A shit-eating, knowing grin, and he wanted to smack him. “This is all for her, isn’t it?”

Bucky sighed. He hadn't expected to meet someone so perfect tonight. “She’s a nurse and I wanna help. Besides, it’s good for the community and you’re all about that shit.” And he had to make a better impression after not asking for your number. “Will you at least promise you’ll be there?”

“To watch my whipped best friend fawn over a pretty nurse? Hell yeah.”

“Beautiful,” he corrected him. “She’s beautiful.”

And while Bucky would fawn over you tomorrow, he also hoped he’d get your number.

So, what do we think so far? Part of this writing style was slightly different for me, but I like how it turned out! I still need to give this reader a nickname and the AU a name, but this is a start. I can't wait for the whole club to show up at the blood drive. I also have something silly and cute planned for these two. ❤️ Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[potatomountain]

CIY- CH 22

Chapter Twenty-Two

📍Pairing: detective ateez ot8 x detective afab reader 📍Summary: "Belonging" 📍WC: 3.6k 📍AU: detective/mafia 📍Genre: action, dark themes, poly romance 📍Warning(s): 18+ rating, some angst, mentions of emotional neglect? slight misogyny 📍Nets: @pirateeznet | @mirohs-aurora-society 📍Beta readers (and sole motivation): @flurrys-creativity , @candypop1611 , @yourfatherlucifer , @skteezcursed and edited(usually) by the amazing: @daemour 📍dividers made by: @cafekitsune

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“What do you mean talk?” You mumbled out, crossing your arms over your chest. He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck which reminded you of the tattoos he had there. You swallowed, reminding yourself that it wasn’t uncommon for cops and detectives to have tattoos, you had some yourself. “I mean just that. We need to talk. I’m… well aware of how close you’re getting to everyone. Well, mostly everyone.” You still didn’t relax, instead you were bristling now. “If this is another warning to mind my business I-” “No no, it’s not that. It's pointless to try and keep you out of this now. But that isn’t going to stop me from worrying. Can I take you out to lunch? Have just a normal conversation about this? I’ll drop you off downtown today instead of Wooyoung.” He didn’t appear ready to tear you a new one or threaten you with a wad of cash to disappear like you half expected… the tea you’ve been hearing at the club was starting to get to you. This isn’t a k-drama.

“Okay.” You reluctantly obliged, letting your arms drop and reaching for your heels. Seonghwa reached out and grabbed a pair of leather boots instead. “You’re going to need these instead.” Skeptical, but not going to ask questions, you took the boots and pulled them on. Thankfully they still went with your outfit but you didn’t understand why the boots-

Until you were standing before a motorcycle and Seonghwa was holding out a helmet to you. Taking it, you watched with new appreciation as he pulled a leather jacket on. Somehow biker was not on the list of hobbies you thought he would have. In fact you hadn’t thought too much about Seonghwa in ways you liked to acknowledge, more often than not just admiring how fucking gorgeous he was. 

But that had changed since last week, when you were sure he had gotten off to what Wooyoung had done to you. He hadn’t shown interest before then, so it had sent your mind in a downward spiral any time you did think of him. Once more you were marveling at this new information about him as you pulled the helmet on, climbing onto the bike behind him once he motioned for you to do so. Where to put your hands was another thing.

Seonghwa didn’t hesitate, grabbing your hands and wrapping them around his waist, your mouth suddenly going dry as you realized how small his waist was.  You could hear his chuckle through the helmet, your body getting pulled with his as he leaned forward a bit to start the bike. Your chest was pressed firmly against his back, breathing hitched as you tried to just focus on anything else but him. Then you two were moving through the streets with ease, the heat and hum of the bike beneath you was as exhilarating as the wind on your bare legs and the ripple of his muscles under your hands. You wanted to feel it more, releasing your grip to sit up straighter, just to have his hand cover one of yours. He didn’t tug you back in place, but fingers entwined to keep you from going too far.

It was almost romantic, and you hated how it had your heart racing for a whole other reason than the adrenaline pumping through your veins. 

In an attempt to get your bearings about you, you shut your eyes and just took in the moment, debating on just how much you could trust the man before you. His icy welcome, his attempts to control Hongjoong’s flirting, the way he refused to kiss you when Hongjoong did… But there was also the way he scolded Yunho the one time you had been late, telling him to be nice to you, when you knew he didn’t have to. His attempts at a truce, at keeping the peace, managing you and the others. But then there had been the gym, the practicing, his praise and encouragement when they first started opening up their work to you.

Could you confidently say that Seonghwa hated you? That he disliked you? Or had he just been trying to be protective over his friends? Tried to manage the hostility from the beginning and it just came off… wrong?

Lost in your head, the sudden stop had you hitting Seonghwa’s back with a surprised gasp, blushing under the helmet as his body shook with laughter. In an attempt to save face, you pulled your hands away and looked around. You were more uptown, still center city, but were outside a cute mom and pop cafe that seemed to have quite a bit of business despite the starbucks a few buildings down and a few other chain mainstream stores around. Stepping off the bike you took off your helmet, keeping your back to him since you still felt quite flustered. “This is where we’re eating?” “Yeah, this would be my favorite place to go.” Seonghwa hummed, taking off his helmet, not a hair out of place as he set both on the bike and secured them. “Do you like sweets?” You shrugged, watching him with as cool of an expression as you could muster. “On occasion, yes. I got my favorites. You like strawberry things right?” His eyes widened, lighting up with pure joy as he stepped closer. “So you pay attention to us too?” The charming smile on his lips disarmed you, finding yourself even more flustered. “Has anyone told you that you’re just unbelievably too pretty?” He laughed while you were gawking, a hand now covering your mouth at your outburst. Oh this felt dangerous. “Maybe. I could say the same about you though Angel.” He brought a hand to the small of your back, guiding you inside. Oh hell, you were speechless. It took every ounce of brain function to take in your surroundings, what you thought was a simple cafe was a bakery of sorts, but there were tables filled with all sorts of people eating lunch and sweets or just enjoying a coffee. Simple things like sandwiches, cakes, melon bread and more. Despite the busyness, it still had a homey feel to it with the decor, the staff, and just the general vibe. There was nothing you could give your full focus to that would keep you distracted from Seonghwa standing next to you, his hand on your back a constant reminder as well. This felt too cozy, he felt too comfortable with you. And after what had happened the last time you saw him? After what happened yesterday? You felt too charged up and vulnerable and he was just seeping into you through the cracks.

“What would you like?” He dipped into your field of view, expression friendly, almost innocent with the wide glossy eyes and sweet smile, a stark contrast to the outfit he wore that oozed sexiness. It caught you off guard, you had never seen him with such an… open expression in your presence before. “Um… surprise me?” As if you could focus on food anyways. Your nerves lit up in all sorts of ways.

He whistled appreciatively, nodding with enthusiasm as he quickly rattled an order off that, to your own ears, sounded like something you would order. His earlier words came rushing back: So you pay attention to us too?

The breakfast order that had been on your desk before. The notice when you had been late. You had chalked it all up to San but didn’t Yeosang scold Wooyoung to get you food you liked? Why did what you like to eat matter to these men? That wasn’t something you needed to pay attention to if you distrusted someone, if you wanted to keep them at bay.

But didn’t you also know Seonghwa liked strawberry things? That he admired his Captain and that it was probably more than a work relationship? You knew how San took his coffee, knew Yeosang was a genius with computers and that he had a cute lisp that always brought a smile to your face.

The more and more you thought of it, the more your face dropped, eyes widening. Seonghwa’s hold suddenly tightened on you, his free hand coming up to cup your jaw and force you to face him. “You know, sometimes it’s easy to read you like an open book. Does it frighten you that we pay such close attention to you?” You shook your head slowly, answering without even thinking about it. It was true, you weren’t scared at all by the attention: but by how much you liked it.

What if this ends up like S.K all over? You fall for one or a few of them, and then once you no longer fit their way of things, they would just toss you aside like Chan did? Panic swiftly washed over Seonghwa’s visage as he began to dab at the tears gathering in your lashes. “Angel. Angel, it's okay. This isn’t a bad talk. I’m not chasing you away or putting down boundaries. Not trying to scare you.” How soft he was being just had your throat tight with the need to sob. “I’m going to… find a seat.” You mumbled under your breath, afraid to speak up more as you turned and searched for a table. There were really only two, both right next to each other, and you sat at the one against the wall, facing the wall so that the rest of the crowd would not be able to see it if you broke. What the fuck was wrong with you? Had the week away from the others fucked with your brain? Deteriorated your walls to keep them at bay? You couldn’t trust them.

Right?

Or was it just the fear that if you did, you would get hurt again?

You couldn’t believe yourself. You weren’t afraid to get shot, stabbed, run over by a car if you had to do so for your goals. Your career had always been the focus of your life, following in your father’s footsteps. He was forced to retire after getting severely injured stopping a serial killer, now a retired detective who climbed up the ranks before recently retiring. Detective work had been his life, and by extension, yours. That was who you were, who you pride yourself on being. A damned good detective, an enforcer of justice and protecting the innocent at the cost of your own life. So why the fuck were you about to sob in the middle of a lunch rush in an unfamiliar cafe just because you realized this unit was worming their way into your heart, and it was beginning to seem mutual. Why the fuck did it scare you to get close? Chan couldn’t have fucked you up this badly? Was it the betrayal of them all? Your loyalty should be to the job, not the unit. But did that make you like Chan? Loyal to the job, not your emotions.

Everything was so messed up. The tray of food and drinks getting set down in front of you startled you, gaze flashing up to meet Seonghwa’s concern. His brow scrunched together further at the look on your face. “We have a lot to talk about it seems.” “I- Vice what is this talk about?” Work. Just focus on work. “Well, you mostly. How you’re adjusting to the unit. To everything that’s happened. I know a lot of what happened is not… normal. And we haven’t been treating you right either.” He handed you the drink and sandwich, then set his in front of him. Immediately he started sipping on the strawberry drink, some of the whipped cream smearing on his upper lip. Once more you were thrown for a loop. “I don’t- fuck is this a wellness check? Does my well-being really matter here?” Seonghwa nodded without hesitation, long tongue flicking out to clean up the cream, the glint of the piercing short-circuiting your thoughts. Oh fuck, him too? “It does matter. And not just because of the job. You want to be a part of this unit right? You want the respect, the trust, the bond we have?” His lips curved into a wry smile, watching you for a moment before he leaned forward, reaching out to cup your cheek. Your emotions, your desire for what he said must be so obvious on your features. “Angel… has anyone made you feel like you belong before?” It shattered you, his words.

There were times you thought you had it, but did you? Chan? No, he chose the unit, the rules. Minho had even scolded you many times, backing up Chan, becoming a second voice to him as opposed to as your best friend. Hyunjin might have that spot, and truthfully he felt like the only one who loved you as you were. Unconditionally. But even he had said that he wasn’t right to be by your side, saying you belong elsewhere, somewhere more. Seonghwa swiped your tears away. “We’ve been so cruel to you haven’t we? And yet you’ve been fighting tooth and nail to prove yourself to us. You fit well in your undercover work, you fit well with us. Wooyoung sings your praises daily, and Yeosang’s reports only have good things to say about your work. You work so hard Angel.”

His words felt like a warm, comforting blanket that encompassed you but also shook you to your core. You could remember so clearly getting accepted into the police academy, graduating at the top of your class and immediately rising through the ranks as a uniform. And in all of those moments had your father been proud? No, he just expected you to do these things. Your mother harking you whenever you had troubles “If you had been a boy, you’d be better at your job. You’d be more like your father.” Had you ever made them proud? You had blossomed under the praise Chan gave you when you first started, doing everything to seek it out. Until you realized how unjust some of the cases were. Then most. And his praise usually was followed with a scolding. And it resonated with you. Those kids, those cases, facing unjust rules that they couldn’t do anything about. Like you. Hadn’t Yeosang said that before? You had everything to prove, and nothing to lose. “Seonghwa…” Your voice croaked as you leaned into his hand, staring up at him with a new found vulnerability that seemed mirror in his sweet brown eyes. “I want to be an equal. I do want to belong.” He smiled softly, stood up, and leaned over to press a kiss to your temple. “Alright Angel, I hear you loud and clear. Now, tell me honestly how you feel.” He sat back down and pushed the sandwich closer. “After you eat and catch a breath. The questions are mostly about the… sexual encounters and tension so I want you prepared.” Heat flooded your cheeks, but you nodded and listened. You had, for the most part, been going with the flow of things, refusing to talk about the underlying emotions because, as he just pointed out, you had been too busy trying to prove something. To prove your worth. Was it actually possible that they really did see it? That some of them did at least, and that the others might?

Were you actually seen, accepted, and equal? He was nice enough to let you sit with your thoughts as you ate, focusing on his own food and watching for your reaction to your first bite. You saw the relief flood his features when you clearly liked it, swallowing and smiling softly. Seonghwa seemed as eager to please as you were, it seemed. The meal quickly calmed your nerves, getting comfortable with the realizations he had come to, and making more as you did. That’s why Yunho’s vulnerability had meant so much to you, while Wooyoung’s honest desire slipped past your walls so easily, and why you could understand their apprehension of you so well.

Even, you dare say, sympathizing with Jongho. He had his reasons, you were sure, and you knew just how hard it was to trust after being hurt.

Now the sex- that was the topic of discussion once you swallowed the last bite and Seonghwa was now returning with a second strawberry drink, with impossibly more whipped cream. It was cute, until his tongue flicked out and scooped up a generous amount. His tongue was long, and considering what was about to be discussed, had you thinking some questionable thoughts about it.

“So, let me make sure I know everything that has happened so far- and please, do not get upset that I know about these things, I’ll explain that alright?” You nodded as he squared up his shoulders, the professional aura surrounding him showing how serious this conversation was, but there was no judgment, nothing alarming about his posture either. You mirrored his posture, knowing that yes, this is a serious thing. It was sex in the workplace, and, if you were being honest, it was more than that. “It started with the club, which technically you did amazing with, but I can’t say that your shared kisses with Yunho and Mingi were just a part of your cover. They don’t see it as just a kiss, which I’m sure you’re aware of by now considering what happened with Mingi. There is also, from my understanding, what happened in the gym? Which… San should’ve been honest that we have security cameras in there that Yeosang has access to.” Your cheeks burned at the idea that Yeosang had seen what San did to you, but it also was relaxing to know it wasn’t San who spilled. That did bring up the urge to talk to Yeosang about it, apparently he really liked to watch you get off? That didn’t necessarily upset you either. “When was it brought up? What happened in the gym?” “When Mingi came in sporting hickies. He didn’t have any targets scheduled for the weekend so we had to question. As you know, any connections have to be known to the rest of us. And it’s not just because of our work. Wooyoung’s hinted at it, you’ve had a few glimpses as well… We have something that… that a majority of people would consider wrong or disgusting, but I don’t think you would. This isn’t like an offer for you either, but so you can understand what you might be getting into.” He continued, brow furrowed as he seemed to search for the right words. Especially since you were now smiling at it seemed to throw him off. “It’s a polycule right? Or well, of sorts. I sort of figured it out, though I had never known about it beforehand. Yunho sort of explained last night but I learned the term from some of Haru’s girl’s. They like to yap my ear off since I apparently have Haru’s approval.” He sighed with relief. “Yes, that’s pretty much it. Sex is a casual thing between us, though not all of us sleep with all the rest. I think Wooyoung would be the only one?” You laughed at that. “Oh I can see that. I swear he didn’t turn the camera off on purpose.” You pointed out and Seonghwa’s smile turned pained. “Yeah, probably not. He enjoys being watched, and you… well he wants you to be one of us. Has been set on it since the beginning. And no matter how much of a little shit he can be, he’s got the best damn judge of character, and we all trust it wholeheartedly. Plus…” Now it was his turn to get flustered, the tips of his ears red. “He knows us well.” With a tilt of your head, you urged him to continue. “What do you mean by that?”

“Well… he left the camera on not just for himself, but because he knew we wanted you. We want you. The only one I can’t speak for is Jongho but, Angel, being equal and part of our bond would mean being a part of what we have, and while most of us want that, we would never force it on you. It can be just sex and work for now, or whatever you need it to be. Just on one condition?” For the most part, you were shell shocked. He said it wasn’t an offer but it was clearly there, to an extent. But he was also emphasizing that there was no pressure to be a part of it. “What’s the catch?” “No matter how deep you get, I need you to talk to me about things. If it ends up being too much, if you have doubts, if you’re struggling with others. My job in the unit and in the polycule, is to take care of everyone else. To keep the peace, and help resolve conflict. Can you do that for me? Can you trust me enough for that?” You mulled over his words, staring him down as he now fidgeted with his hands, barely noticeable if you weren’t looking for some tell that this was a lie- but that tell was simply that he was nervous, maybe even a little scared. Scared you wouldn’t trust him.

“I trust you Seonghwa. And I agree to your terms. Thank you for trusting me with this.” You reached over and placed a comforting hand over his, watching him visibly relax. Mentally, you were cursing yourself, scared this was going to end just like it did last time: trusting people, thinking you belong. It was too late to turn back though, wasn’t it?

Taglist (Capped): @mingsolo | @wowie-hockey | @crispybaguettes | @tiny-apocalypse

| @philijack | @lelaleleb | @isiloiale | @vannabanana1995  | @piratequeen-queenofgames

| @starstruckforyou | @minheeskitten | @amphiroxx  | @cloudysannie | @sugarnspice630

| @sanhwalvr | @plutoneu |  @sousydive |  @fatalt | @iwishiwasrichasfuck

| @bitchwhytho | @st4rhwa | @thesafecafe | @alextheweeb7 | @ddaeing

Taglist will be continued in a reblog!!