Mo

9teen. she/her. Spanish/English. Latina. Wattpad and Ao3: bloomedaster

[bloomedaster]

Bloomedaster's Masterlist

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────Fluff ʚɞ - Smut ☘︎ -Angst ❀ ────

James Buchanan Barnes

Caught ⋆⭒˚.⋆ [ ☘︎ ]

Arthur Morgan

Bandits & Blossoms

Daryl Dixon

Your boyfriend, Daryl Dixon, gets you wild flowers but mistakes your appreciation for disdain °❀.ೃ࿔* [ ʚɞ ]

[bloomedaster]

Your boyfriend, Daryl Dixon, gets you wild flowers but mistakes your appreciation for disdain °❀.ೃ࿔*

word count: 0.9k a/n: written at like 3 am so not good at all and not proof-read. This was supposed to be a shorter read... my mind just took unnecessary journeys, kay? lol.

divider by @cursed-carmine

Daryl isn't the typical romantic type. His love language were acts of service and quality time together. Dates for the two of you usually consisted of sitting by a fire where you've hunkered down for the night or hunting for the group. Daryl's most romantic gesture is dressing whatever animal you were able to find while hunting because he knows you'll never get used to the whole ordeal.

One night, he'd catch you talking to the girls in the camp. They were mentioning the most thoughtful thing a partner has ever done for them. The girls all raved about dinners and extravagant gifts they received before all this, but he noticed you weren't offering up any stories. He pretended not to notice the way you drew into yourself after the girls moved on to other topics.

With this in mind, the next time you both were out on a scavenge run or hunting again, he saw you admiring some of the wild flowers around you. He wouldn't mention it; he would just save the fact that you seemed interested in the flowers and finish whatever you were up to.

Later, he grabbed a flashlight and retraced his steps from earlier. He follows his own damn tracks back to the place he saw you fixating on the purple flowers. He picks the best-looking ones, and a small grin appears on his face as he walks back to camp. He hides the flowers in his pack, gently, before he slides in next to you in your shared tent.

In the morning, he finds you on the outskirts of the temporary camp foraging for any herbs or plants that'll be useful for supper. He fixed the flowers up nice before handing them to her with a shy 'here, got 'em for you.'

A smile broke on your face. Cheeks all rosy. You smelled the flowers before placing your hand on his forearm and thanked him. That's all the amount of PDA he could stand. He's not the type to pull back from your touch, but you knew he wasn't big on displays of affection around the others, so a small touch would suffice.

By midday, the others were doing their own thing around camp, while you were sitting on a rock separating the flower head from the stem. You were totally unaware of Daryl being a few feet away from you, watching all this. He was cleaning the grime off his bow. Grime that only builds up from going out to hunt animals or fight walkers. He suddenly didn't care much about the bow. He was more interested in the fact that you were pulling the flowers apart. He had thought you'd like the flowers just fine. You had smiled and thanked him. Instead of sitting in his own misery, he stood up and walked off into the woods.

What Daryl didn't see was the flower heads lying gently on the pages of the book. You made sure the book would hold them just right so they'd dry up and be preserved. When you were done, you closed the book and put it away in your pack without a second thought.

After the farm, they weren't staying in one place for too long. The next morning, the camp was up and at 'em. The place is packed up and ready to leave. Daryl had come into your tent late and gotten up before you had. Rick mentioned Daryl ran off into the woods early and said he'd catch up with the group later in the day.

You were busy looking between the tree line. Scouring for any place for the group to hole up for the night. You had no luck. A few minutes after you give up looking, Daryl pops out of the trees holding a few squirrels he'd hunted. The group keeps walking, but you wait for him to join you on the road.

"Off picking some more flowers for me?"

You nudge him as you joke. His glare immediately denotes his foul mood.

"So you can rip 'em to shreds?"

You almost trip on a rogue rock from being caught off guard by his snarky accusation.

"What are you-"

You cut yourself off mid-sentence when you realize what he is referring to. She had loved the flowers. She was never much of a flower girl before, but flowers from Daryl had much more meaning than if some guy had gotten her flowers before. Which is why she wanted to preserve them.

"You mean the flower heads I carefully separated from the stem to dry them out so I get to keep 'em longer?"

You take off your pack and pull out the old book you picked up while scavenging an abandoned house on your runs. Now it held the drying flowers, but when you had picked it up a while ago, he had called it a waste of time. You opened the book and showed him the flattened purple flowers on the pages. Not dry yet, but getting there. Daryl's expression changed immediately. Now he seemed embarrassed for making a scene more than anything. A small smile appeared on your lips.

“They were a really thoughtful gift. You’re quite a romantic.”

You tease him.

“Shut up.”

He grumbles, his ears red and obvious under the Georgia sun. You giggle at the misunderstanding of the situation before putting the book away, slinging your pack on, and joining him.

[cursed-carmine]

✴︎ LACE DIVIDERS

ﾉ Please reblog & credit if you use!

For different colors just send me an ask please!

SUCCULENTS

FOREST

MOON BLUE

OCEAN

PURPLE HAZE

[valsgraphicstash]

Green Blue Purple

Divider

[bloomedaster]

(TWD SPOILERS. Kind of)

Just got to season 6 finale/season 7. Yeah who let me start this show. Makes me wanna write a short about reader (Daryl’s complicationship) reacting to Daryl being kidnapped by the saviors.

[bloomedaster]

I need Daryl Dixon so bad 😫

[bloomedaster]

Began watching twd and I’ve become somewhat obsessed with Daryl Dixon. In need of fics!!! (I’m on season 4 though 😬 any w no spoilers?)

[bloomedaster]

Restarting rdr2 because I miss Arthur Morgan. 😭

[bloomedaster]

I’m not new to rdr2 at all but I’m currently in the last few missions of my second play through and it has me in shambles. I seriously think somethings wrong with me. I’m grieving Arthur Morgan as if he was real…

[bloomedaster]

Bandits & Blossoms Series

Ⅰ

[bloomedaster]

Bandits & Blossoms: Ⅰ

summary: Mariana de León was born into a life most dream of, yet, she wishes to be free. What will happen when a pair of outlaws come into her life and give her an opportunity of the life she always dreamed of?

pairings: Arthur Morgan x Original Character

a/n: This is a series! It is also being cross-published on wattpad and ao3.

word count: 5.9k

contains: Attempted SA (Not by any of the Van der Linde gang members), Mentions of religion, Mother hits original character, NO AI, May be bad writing but its my bad writing. Oc is 20. Arthur is 26.

divider by me 😋

1889

"Marianna, stop moving."

My mother yanks my hand away from the puff sleeve I pull on. I try to fix the uncooperative fabric on my arm. My mother pins me with a glare, and my hand lowers to my side. We've been in Saint-Denis for all of one day, and my mother already has Adela and me wearing frilly dresses to 'fit in with the women of this society'. It's not new for her to dictate what I do, say, or how I dress, but it certainly doesn't get any easier.

"This dress is uncomfortable."

There's no response other than a slap across my cheek. I yelp when the sharp pain spreads across my cheek. The undoubtedly pink cheek. Of course. The only thing that upsets my mother more than my complaining is the use of my native tongue. Adelita, my younger sister, puts her hand in mine. She gives me a weak smile as the tears that dare to spring in my eyes are blinked away. This will only be worse if I cry.

"We speak English here, Marianna. Don't make me get your father."

I hold my cheek and try to soothe the burning sensation my mother's hand left. I can't answer her, afraid that if I speak, I won't be able to hold back the wavering of my voice. I nod, letting her know that I won't dare speak Spanish for the remainder of our trip. There are a few more weeks before we return to Mexico. I cling to counting the days until we return to my country to maintain my sanity.

Returning to Mexico means I won't be forced to speak English, no more frilly dresses, and best of all, no more useless parties my father throws to get businessmen drunk and talk their ears off about doing business.

There is a knock on the door. I take a deep breath in and exhale slowly. My mother does the same, running her hands gently down the front of her dress. It's not particularly fixing anything, but rather a nervous gesture she makes to feel put together. Adelita mimics the gesture moments after. She's a younger version of my mother, except Adelita is sweet, whereas my mother is harsh.

"This is important to your father and me; do not embarrass us."

My mother speaks in a calm but warning tone. The whole reason we took this trip was so my father could close a deal with investors. My mother calls the person behind the door, announcing they can come in. A guard pops into the doorway and lets us know that the guests are starting to arrive. My mother nods her head and turns to look at Adelita and me.

"On your best behavior, you hear me?"

No words leave my mouth. Too concerned with saying the wrong thing. Adelita and I nod and watch my mother walk towards the door. We follow behind her, our hands clasped together in front of our gowns. My mother always said it made us look more ladylike. We walk down the grand staircase, and the guests pour in through the front door.

Businessmen with expensive-looking suits and equally expensive wives in beautiful gowns walk in. We have done this plenty of times to know how to look our best for our parents' important guests. We put on our best smiles and welcome our guests. My father and Santiago, my younger brother, welcomed the guests at my mother's side. Santiago and my father are very close, so close that tonight they wear matching suits. A habit everyone seems to adore, I see it as my brother falling into the same snobby footsteps as my father. As the heir of the De Leon legacy, Santiago has been conditioned to be like my father. Exactly how my father was raised to be like my grandfather.

"Hello, thank you for coming, we're glad you were able to join us on such short notice."

My father addresses the crowd. I don't focus on the speech he's most likely giving. Instead, I look through the crowds, and I catch the eye of one person in particular. William. My father told me earlier this week that he'd be here. That doesn't stop the shiver that goes down my spine when William sends me a smirk from where he stands. I force myself to look away, attempting to ignore him and begin scouring the crowds once again.

I watch the amusement on the faces of the crowd as they look around the grandly decorated foyer of the estate. Like they wish to be in our shoes. I don't blame them. It's a beautiful house, but I don't think they know just how cruel and corrupted you'd have to be to get here.

It isn't long before my parents are swept up in the crowd. The guests all disperse, some indulge in champagne, the maids have so perfectly put out, and the others slip into conversations of their own. I look around, trying to spot my mother, and come up blank. A slight grin appears on my face, and I take this as an opportunity to slip away. That's the best thing about these kinds of parties. Once the guests arrive, I become utterly invisible to her. For one moment, the constant fear I feel in my chest while she's around dissipates.

I walk over to the ballroom, where couples are dancing to the live band in the corner of the room. The music bounces off the walls. On any other night, I would've been dancing as well, but right now, I only want some quiet. I beeline my way to the door that leads to the kitchen before a hand pulls me back.

"Marianna, you know you're not allowed back there. Mom will be mad again."

Adelita pulls me away from the door. I pull my arm back and turn around to face her. Her tiny face is etched in concern. My heart breaks every time I see the fear she holds towards our parents. I sigh and tuck a stray piece of hair behind her ear.

"I will be alright, Adela. She won't be mad if you don't tell her."

She rolls her eyes and huffs. She's always been a goodie two-shoes. Never one to sneak around and lie to our parents. She doesn't necessarily agree with my mother or father, but she wasn't the one to step out of line or argue. She walks away with her arms crossed. I grin and shake my head. This is a typical interaction between us. She will always try to talk me out of disobeying direct orders, but she will never be the one to rat me out.

On the other hand, I need to be very wary of Santiago. I lift my head to search for my younger brother and find him on the opposite side of the room, preoccupied with a girl around his age. His back is turned to me, presenting me with the perfect opportunity to leave the room.

The kitchen is buzzing when I walk through. Workers come and go. Some carry small appetizers, while others take more champagne. I snake around the workers who look at me and shake their heads. They know as well as I do that I'm not supposed to be back here but I greet them anyway before grabbing a flute of champagne and exiting through the back door into the backyard.

The fresh air on my skin makes me shiver. It's sunny out, though the breeze is cold. The backyard is my favorite part of this estate. It's not like back home, but the white octagon-shaped gazebo makes up for it. I make my way down the concrete stairs. The muffled sounds of the live band and the clacking sound of my heel against the concrete are the only sounds in my ear, fading as I near the gazebo.

I sit on one of the white folding chairs inside the gazebo and listen to the breeze flowing through the leaves on the trees surrounding the backyard. For the first time during this trip, I finally had a bit of peace and quiet. I bring the flute up to my lips and down the gold-colored drink. I savor the sweet taste and set the empty glass on the table beside me.

"Glad to see you again, Ms. De Leon."

I rise out of my seat, alarmed. It's a man's voice. I turn around to face the unidentified voice. Once I get a good look at the man, I know my peace and quiet is long gone. William Cornwall. Standing in front of me is the son of one of the most important men in Saint Denis. He is the son of a very wealthy and respected oil magnate. His father is the reason we made such a journey. My father says that going into business with Mr. Cornwall would open doors for us here in America.

"Mr. Cornwall, it's nice to see you as well."

I muster up my best fake smile. The last time we were this close, he ended up with a bloody nose. In this instance, I wish it had been my mother to catch me here instead of him.

"There is no use for the lie. It is unbecoming of a young lady."

He steps closer. One hand was inside the pocket of his dress pants, while the other held a champagne flute. Mine, on the other hand, stay interlaced in front of me. Keeping my fingers interlaced might help me stop the urge to slap him again.

"Is there a particular reason you came for me?"

I keep that perfectly curated smile on my face. I remind myself I need to play nice until my father convinces his father to do business with him, and that keeps the urge to break the act at bay.

"Well, at first I came for my apology for almost breaking my nose, but I don't believe that will be the case today..."

There is a smirk on his young and clean shaven face that makes my stomach twist.

"Maybe with a little help you'll be more... apologetic."

His words make my stomach drop, and not in a good way. I'm frozen as he steps closer. The glass in his hand is now empty, but I smell the champagne on his breath. It isn't until his hand goes to my waist that I move away.

"Don't touch me."

I feel my stomach roll in repulsion. He tries to pull me back towards him by my elbow, but his drunken state makes it easy for me to shove him away. I walk away from him, hoping he won't come after me. I feel relieved when I look over my shoulder and find him standing in place at the gazebo. I finally reach the concrete stairs and almost trip over how fast I'm going.

I return to the party and try to blend in with the crowd. I stopped to join a group that was tucked away to the side of the room. If they noticed the shallow and rapid way of my breathing, they didn't mention it. My eyes remained glued to the kitchen door, only glancing away when the group of guests put me into the conversation. I try to keep the worry out of my voice as I answer their incessant questions on whether I'm enjoying our stay in Saint Denis or not.

It's not long after that Adela appears by my side and tugs on my arm. I excuse myself and follow her lead as she pulls me away from the group. My eyes furrow when I notice she's trying her best to hide her face from me. We only make it to the doorway of this huge room before I pull on Adelita's arm, forcing her to face me. My heart lurches at the sight.

"What's wrong?"

The clear and perfect face she had about an hour ago is now gone and replaced with red, splotchy skin and red, tear-filled eyes to match.

"They made fun of the way I speak."

My brows knit together in confusion. As my hands go to her shoulders.

"Who?"

Adela brushes the tear that falls before looking over her shoulder. I follow her line of sight and see three girls who look around her age, laughing at Adela. Adelita turns her head and stares at the ground in embarrassment. Rage courses through my veins as I watch the girls walk away with enjoyment on their faces.

"Let's go."

The party ended not long after I slipped away with Adelita to hide out in her room. She only cried for a few minutes while I consoled her after we snuck in here. She's always been the more sensitive one out of all of us. While my parents and Santiago see her being sensitive as a flaw, I realize it's what makes her the best one out of all of us.

My mother interrupts the silence as she opens the door. Adela and I brace ourselves for the mood my mom is certainly in.

"Get ready for dinner, your father has good news."

She walks out of the room, leaving Adela and me slack jawed. Right about now, she would be scornful of us for not attending to our guests. She would say it would be impossible to find us a proper husband if we weren't more ladylike. Adela and I share the same expression as we head to the bedroom door.

"She's not mad? What do you think the good news is?"

I ask her as I open the door that leads to the hallway.

"I hope it's about going back home. I miss Uncle Joaquin."

Adelita speaks up. I nod, agreeing with her. I miss our uncle too. He's a stark contrast to our father. Uncle Joaquin was the one who consoled me when my father reprimanded me after I had given William Cornwall a bloody nose.

I tried to explain the situation to my father, but it was as successful as talking to a wall. My uncle had been there to hold me until my tears dried and my cheek stopped hurting from the slaps I had received as a punishment. I wish he were here to listen and console me about what happened tonight.

"Let's go find out."

We walk down the stairs and head to the dining room. Adelita and I find my father at the head of the table as we walk into the dining room. Santiago and our mother are sitting on the left side of the table, leaving us to sit across from them. The maids stride into the dining room with plates in their hands. Rita, one of the maids I've grown to like, sets my plate in front of me, and I give her a silent thank you. She doesn't answer, but she nods her head in acknowledgment. On cue, I watch my mother send Rita and me a death glare.

"That will be all for now."

My father says as he watches my mother glare at me. He grabs the serviette from the table and lays it on his lap. The rest of the table matches his actions.

The maids file out of the dining room, leaving us in silence. My father joins his hands with Santiago and Adelita, who sit by him. Instinctively, I raise my hands and hold my mother's hand with my left and Adelita's with my right. I watch as my parents close their eyes as my father prepares to say grace. Adelita, Santiago, and I follow by bowing our heads.

"Bless us, O lord, and these thy gifts,"

My father begins.

"We give thanks for the bounty before us, for the strength to lead, and for the wisdom to do what is best for this family."

It's a good thing my head is bowed. No one can see the eye roll I give at my father's words. The scoff in my throat is a little harder to hold back. I look up to see if anyone heard the noise that came from my throat only to be met with my mother's unwavering death glare pinned on me. My face feels hot when I clear my throat as she bows her head again. I do the same.

"And we give thanks for the fruitful partnership with Mr. Cornwall and his family. May this union bring prosperity to both our houses."

My mood lightens at my father's words. I turn to Adelita, who is already grinning beside me. She turns to me to give me a better view of that toothy grin. Mr. Cornwall finally choosing to do business with my father means we no longer have to stay in Saint Denis. There was a lull in my father's prayer before he cleared his throat and continued.

"And may this engagement, between our Marianna and young William, be a holy and prosperous bond, in God's eyes and ours."

My eyes snap up to my father's, and the grin I wore a few moments ago is now wiped off my face. His head is still bowed, so is my mother's. I feel my chest constrict. I feel like the oxygen has been ripped out of my lungs. Of course. My mother knew about this. This is why she didn't make a fuss about Adelita and me running off early. I'm brought back when I feel Adelita squeezing my hand. I tear my eyes away from my father, and her furrowed brows come into view. I squeeze her hand in return to try to let her know I'm okay before I return to look at my father. His head is now lifted, and so is his wineglass.

"Amen-"

I cut him off.

"You didn't tell me..."

My voice is barely audible. I'm in such shock that I don't know how I muster the strength to speak. I drop my hands onto my lap. I shake my head in disbelief. My father finally looks at me and abandons his wineglass on the table with a soft clink. He tilts his head as if what I said is utterly ridiculous.

"I didn't deem it necessary, Marianna."

He speaks calmly as if he were only discussing the weather and not my future. I should have known he wasn't the type of father who was above selling his daughter as if she were mere cattle.

"You arranged for me to be married off to a man whom I've never seemed to have a pleasant exchange with, and you didn't deem it necessary?"

I echo his words. Up until now, the table had fallen silent until my mother spoke up.

"Marianna. You do not talk to your father in that manner."

My mother's sharp voice cuts through the argument. I turn to her, my mouth slightly agape. I scoff. I didn't realize her need to please my father had no bounds. She gives me a warning look, the one she gives me when I should tread lightly on my following words. My father holds up his hand to stop my mother from continuing without sparing her a glance. His piercing gaze was solely on me.

"You speak as though it's a punishment. This is an opportunity. For all of us."

My father leans back on his dining chair, obviously beginning to feel frustrated with the conversation. He rests one of his hands that's balled up into a fist on the table. I try not to let it intimidate me.

"This is only an opportunity for you, and your business..."

My voice rises slightly. My father doesn't lose his cool. He leans in slowly and calmly.

"William is a respectable young man. He's educated, mannered, and catholic."

My father continues as if these qualities will somehow make me fall in love with him. I have been raised to act like a lady, so when the time comes, I will find a husband for myself. I never would have thought my husband would come from a business deal.

"I am not something you can use for your benefit. I am your daughter."

My voice cracks slightly. Tears brimmed in my eyes. I turn away from his gaze to blink them away. Crying will not solve this.

"You are both."

My stomach dropped at his words, and the table was quiet again. Even Santiago had paused, his eyes flicking between me and his plate as if it was him being given up for money.

"You've traded me like I'm some kind of cattle."

My voice is defeated. The fight in me is slowly slipping from me. The realization that this marriage is set in stone is falling over me as the minutes pass.

"I made a future. For this family. For you... Una Casa Firme, Un Alma Pura."

My father sighs and goes back to his plate like this conversations over. As if this is something I should brush off. I look to my mother for any sort of compassion. A semblance of empathy but I should've known better. Her jaw is tight and her eyes are filled with anger. This is a lost cause. I am the future Mrs. Cornwall.

Dinner was hard to get through. After the announcement of my engagement, I lost my appetite. I was only able to force a few bites of food into my mouth. Once it was over and the maids came around to pick up our dishes, I was the first one out of the dining room. I walked up the grand staircase in record time and locked myself in my room.

Now I was tossing and turning in bed. I keep trying to imagine how much my life would change after I marry William, but the thought of that alone makes my stomach churn.

I slam my hands onto the mattress out of frustration and get out of bed. I walk over to the window that lets the moon's glow into the room.

I pace back and forth by the window and get so lost in thinking about William that I almost miss the movement down below. My steps come to a halt, and I lean on the sill of the window to get a better view of the bushes I saw move just a second ago. It could most likely be some animal, a raccoon, maybe? Or a dog who wandered off from his owners? But no, when my eyes adjust to the darkness outside, I see two men. My brows furrow as I watch them survey the house. They don't look like the guards my father keeps around the estate. These men look like intruders.

I back from the window as they lift their heads towards the second floor. I step back until the bed hits the back of my legs, making me lose balance and fall onto the mattress. I sit on the mattress thinking. Mostly, I think about how they got in without guards surrounding them in seconds. A small flicker of hope seeps into my chest.

If it's so easy to get in, how easy would it be to leave?

The smart thing to do would be to alert the guards and wake my father. Let them do what they always do when there are threats against our family. Lock the gates and bring out the rifles.

I should scream. I should run down the hallway, bang on the doors, wake the house, do what I've been told to do. But I don't. I sit still. I'm struggling to find the motivation to move.

I light the candlelight on my bedside table, and my feet move to the door. I open my bedroom door and stride across the hall where my parents lie, sleeping. The instinct to obey, alert, and do what I'm supposed to do, tell someone, be a good daughter, rises to the surface.

I get to their door, and my hand hovers over the doorknob. I have to twist and push to open the door, but something stops me from doing so.

I'm not frozen in fear. I freeze because, for the first time in my life, I'm not sure I want to protect them. I was raised to obey. To speak only when spoken to. To make myself small for the sake of family, business, and appearances. But standing here, staring at the door to their room, I realize I'm tired of protecting people who wouldn't lift a finger to protect me.

What if I don't alert them? What if I let them come in and take what they want?

For one moment, I don't care about what might happen if I let them carry on. I stand there frozen, watching the doorknob, breathing quietly through my nose. I could still knock. I could still play the part. But then another thought comes, quieter and sharper than the rest.

You don't belong to them.

For that reason, I don't knock. I don't retreat to my room. Instead, I walk down the stairs and head to my father's study, quietly. From what I know, my father keeps a revolver in his study, so that's where I'm headed.

The gun will be more for show than for protection. I've never held a gun before, let alone fired it.

Once inside the study, I go straight to the bookshelf. Santiago once told me the revolver is locked in a drawer in Father's desk, and the key is hidden between the books. That's what I'm counting on.

I hold up my candlelight to illuminate the books while I work, and after a few minutes of looking between the books, my fingers graze cold metal. The key. I thank Santiago in my head while I walk over to the desk drawer. I insert the key and twist. I pull the drawer out towards myself. Inside, I find papers. Contracts. Deeds. Letters. I push them to the side and watch as they reveal the gun. I pick it up while setting down the candlelight holder on the desk, and I feel the cold steel in my palms as I practice aiming at nothing. It feels heavier than it looks. I set it down and before I leave the study, I organize the papers in the drawer and shut it before I grab the candlelight holder and head towards the back door, tiptoeing to the kitchen.

Once I know I'm in the clear, I head out the back door and into the cold night. The breeze hits my skin and goosebumps spread over my skin and I regret not wearing anything but my nightgown. I rush down the concrete stairs, watching the floor for any rogue rocks, and sneak over to use the back of the house as my hiding spot. The cold stone wall hits my back as I peek around the corner to the side of the house and keep my eye on the two men.

"Hosea heard from folks in town that these people have money to burn."

I can roughly make out the shapes in the dark. The moon glows, only outlining the profile of their bodies. They don't notice my presence, too deep into their conversation to pay me any mind.

"That kind of money means more guards, Dutch."

The other man says. An accent coats his words. He must not be from around here. He sounds younger than the other man, even with a voice as deep as his.

"Since when do a few guards bother you, Arthur?"

The man's voice, whom I now recognize as Dutch, speaks. The younger man scoffs at Dutch. From here, I can see him shake his head before speaking up again.

"I am just sayin."

"How about just keeping your voice low, boy. After this job, you'll be thanking me."

Dutch scolds the man. I had been right. They're here as nothing but intruders.

The night breeze makes me shiver, goosebumps rising on my skin. I shiver from the breeze and lose grip of the candlelight in my hand.

I hear the harsh clang on the concrete when the metal hits the floor. I pull myself back and wish the stone wall would eat me up as I silently curse at myself for being so clumsy.

Dutch and Arthur have gone silent. I hold the revolver up to my chest when I slowly creep my head around the corner. Their heads are turned in my direction. In fear that they might've seen me, I hide again.

"Who goes there?"

Dutch's voice is quiet, careful not to draw attention to himself and Arthur. I close my eyes. I'm trying to muster up the courage to confront them. I thought this would be easier.

I hear two sets of footsteps approaching. The slight panic gives me the final push to emerge from my hiding spot. I walk out with the revolver pointed at them. Instinctively, the older man, whom I can now see more clearly, lifts his hands in surrender. The man by his side looks confused by the older man's actions, but follows them, nonetheless.

"Well, now there's no need for this, miss... Uh- My name is Featherstone Chambers, and this,"

Dutch nods his head at the younger man by his side.

"Is my associate, Arthur Callahan."

He lies about his name. I don't expect anything less. I tighten my grip around the revolver, and Dutch takes notice of my actions. There is a slight smirk on his face that the dark makes good on hiding. He thinks he can charm and lie his way out of this situation.

"My apologies, I didn't catch your name, Miss?"

He continues after I give him nothing but silence. I almost gave him my real name until I remembered who I'm talking to.

"Alma. Alma Leon."

The raven-haired man nods. If he has any skepticism about the fictitious name, he doesn't show it.

"Well then, Ms. Leon, it was lovely meeting you, and my associate and I sincerely do apologize for the disturbance. We'll leave the premises immediately."

They're turning around, heading back to where they came from. I feel the control slipping from my hands once again. In a desperate act to get them to stop, I pull the hammer back. I'm not going to shoot them, but they don't know that. They stop in their tracks as they hear the click of the hammer.

"I heard you..."

Both men share a look before turning around once again. It's the 'associate' that speaks up now.

"Now, how much of that conversation did you hear?"

He steps closer. In a moment of panic, I step back and hold the gun up higher. Dutch stretches out his hand to stop Arthur from getting any closer.

"I heard enough to know you won't be able to get in alone..."

I should be more reluctant to go against my parents, yet the words come out confidently. By the look they share, I can tell their curiosity has been piqued. Although they still look wary enough that it makes my chest fill with worry that they won't help me escape. I attempt to seem more friendly so I lower the gun.

"You expect us,"

Arthur points to both himself and Dutch.

"To believe you are offerin' to help."

He replies as if the words leave a bad taste in his mouth. I know being out here and making a deal with outlaws I met mere minutes ago isn't very smart. However, there is no other option. This is the only chance I have if I ever want to live the life I want, not the life my parents have planned for me. Alone, I won't make it twenty steps off the estate.

"It's not help. It's business..."

I reply. Guess I am a bit more like my father than I'd like to admit. Arthur's brows furrow as he tries to gauge the validity of my words. His eyes bore into mine, and it takes everything in me not to look away.

His presence alone makes my body shiver in intimidation. Not that the man by his side is any less intimidating, but he did try to talk his way out of this after I caught him, leading me to believe that the older man is the brains. While the man whose hand has migrated to his holster is the muscle. I assume I passed Arthur's test when his hand moves to his belt, his other goes to scratch the scruff on his jaw.

"And what kind of business would that be? If I may ask."

Dutch speaks. He mimics Arthur's stance and hooks his hands on his belt, the belt buckle shining under the moon's glow.

I am about to open my mouth when I hear footsteps making their way toward us. The bushes we stand behind do a good job of hiding us for now, but that doesn't cease the worried expression on the man's face. I know if they get caught, there won't be another chance to escape. As the footsteps get closer, an idea flashes through my mind.

"Meet me by the alley near the tailor shop in town tomorrow, do you know the one?"

I ask them while peeking around the bushes to see a guard walking in our direction. Judging by his expression, he has yet to notice us. I face the intruders who nod, answering my question.

"Okay, meet me at noon. Now, go, I'll distract him."

I hide my fathers gun behind my back as the guard's approaches me. I take a deep breathe in before walking out from behind the bush. The guard startles at my presence a feet away from me.

"Ms. De Leon, what are you doing out of bed?"

The guard asks me. I look over to watch as the men I was just conspiring with are halfway off the property.

"Your father won't be happy to know you're not in your room."

The guard continues. I can give two shits about what he will feel, especially when I can feel my freedom finally within arm's reach.

"I was getting some fresh air... can't sleep,"

I respond. The guard scans my face. From here, I can tell he's not convinced by the story I'm telling him. I try to maintain eye contact with the guard as to not raise any suspicions. He fails to find any irregularities with my response and nods.

"It's best to go back up to your room now. It isn't safe to be roaming around the estate alone at this time of night."

Right... because I might find random men skulking and scheming about. 

The thought is loud in my mind, but my lips are shut. I give the guard a small smile before nodding.

"I'll head back now."

The guard nods and turns to get back to his post. I release a sound of relief as he moves further away from me. I move my hand from behind my arm when it's safe and I turn to head back to the house. I make my way through the house quietly. The gun gets returned to its original place just as I had found it before I head upstairs. The quiet sends a sense of relief through me. They didn't notice my brief silence.

When I'm back in my room I walk over to the window. I wince as the floorboards creak but look out the window to find Arthur and Dutch riding off on their horses. Envy of the freedom they must feel to ride off without having someone controlling them rushes through me. I try to rid myself of the unbecoming feeling and walk to my bed. I bury myself under the covers before turning away from the window before I dream of my freedom.

[bloomedaster]

Need a stark!daughter fic that includes her dating Bucky. (Yes I know it’s an overused trope. Don’t care. Still love it.)

[bloomedaster]

Guys not to be a perv but when are the Ryland Grace smut fics dropping? Like I’m waitinggggg. Ever since reading the book and watching the movie I can’t get him out of my head.

[saradika-graphics]

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[bloomedaster]

Caught ⋆⭒˚.⋆

Summary: One night you think you're alone in the tower but you find a certain avenger alone sitting in front of a computer screen.

Pairings: Thunderbolts!Bucky x Avenger!Reader

A/N: First time writing smut... please bare with me. This came to me in a dream and I needed to get it out of my system.

Word Count: 3.4k

Contains: MDNI. 18+ content. NSFW. Amateur writing (No A.I here). Mentions of adult videos/content. No mentions of Y/n. Swearing. Male Masturbation. Reader being a peeping tom (Kind of?). Bucky being a typical grandpa with technology. Mutual Masturbation. Oral (f receiving). Dirty talk. Light begging. Fingering. Making out. That knee thing (iykyk). Nipple Play. Protected p in v. (I think that's all but let me know if I missed anything.)

It's Saturday night at Avengers Tower, and the team has gone out for dinner. You stayed behind to work on the tech you've been developing for months.

You weren't the type to stay home. You were usually the one trying to make plans with the team, but tonight you felt so close to finally figuring out what was going wrong with the tech you'd promised the team for months.

"Last chance. I know you said no, but I'm here to ask if you're sure you don't want to go out for dinner? I hear we're sticking the tab on Walker this time."

Yelena steps out of the elevator and walks over to you. You grin at her efforts to take you out tonight, shut off the hologram screen, and sit in the chair by the desk.

"As much as I'd love to see Walker pay for the whole team, I really wanna get some work done tonight."

You point to where your work was displayed just a second ago.

"I don't want to lose focus."

You explained. Yelena gives you a look that means you've just ruined her mood with the most boring reason for why you're staying home tonight. She scoffs and starts making her way back to the elevator.

"Fine, but I'm not bringing you any of those desserts you like."

She tries to bribe you one last time. You roll your eyes and shake your head as she walks back into the elevator.

"Have fun."

You say as the elevator closes, and you go right back to work.

"Thank fuck…"

It has been about two hours since the team left, and you were still sitting in front of the hologram screen working the night away. Until you finally figured out what was causing the tech to fail every time you tested it. After a few too many incidents that caused the whole team to make excuses to get out of testing your projects, you can finally say it's safe and efficient to use.

"Now time to make you and go to sleep."

You whisper to yourself. You move a few things around before you leave the fabricator to build the newest version of your tech. You clean up the papers that litter your desk and make your way to the elevator. In the elevator, you hit the floor with the Avengers’ sleeping quarters, feeling too exhausted to get a cab to your apartment.

The elevator opens onto the hallway of the sleeping quarters, and you walk out. You're only used to spending the night here when you have night-long projects or your neighbors have parties until 3 in the morning.

It's always quiet and peaceful on this floor, and the expensive sheets that feel like they've been brought down from heaven are nothing to complain about.

You're yawning as you walk down the hallway, ready to drop on the mattress and knock out, but a faint voice coming from behind the door on the right stops you in your tracks.

"Fuck…"

No one should be down here other than the team. You try to stop yourself from eavesdropping, but curiosity has you getting closer and bringing your ear to the door. A moan comes from behind the door. It's a man. That much is distinguishable, but it's not enough for you to know who it is. You try to convince yourself to go to your room and leave whoever it is alone. You're already moving when you hear the voice again.

"Ah shit."

You hear the man again, but this time it's a clear enough sentence to where you can put a face to the voice. James. Your face immediately goes red. What the fuck is James doing in there? Most importantly, why do you feel the need to investigate?

Whatever, this isn't any of your business.

So, why is your hand wrapping around the doorknob and opening it before you enter the room?

"James?"

You walk into the dark room and find James sitting at his desk with his back to you. Before he can react, the light coming in from the hallway makes good on displaying James' cock springing out of his briefs, his hand wrapped around it, and the screen displaying the oldest adult videos you didn't even know existed.

"Fuck!"

James scrambles to hide his aching cock from your view, and you turn to look at anything but him.

"Shit. I-uh- I'm sorry, I thought everyone was gone, and someone was here trespassing or something."

Your cheeks are burning up, and your eyes end up on the computer screen that's been interrupted by a pop-up ad of Sarah being 4 miles away. Rookie.

"You ever heard of knocking?"

James's embarrassed voice is still rough when he speaks. You try to look away from the screen, but the questions plaguing your mind don't leave you.

"I was going to… but I heard noises. I didn't know it was going to be you watching porn made in what? the 70's?"

You ask. The computer's screen lights his face enough so you can see his blushing face. He looks away to the screen, and his eyes widen just a bit when he sees he's still on the porn website, then he goes back to the keyboard, trying to get it off the screen. You giggle. Watching James being so uncoordinated was new for you. The man who was usually stoic and intimidating was now trying and failing in front of you.

"Get out."

He grumbles, still fighting with the computer. A louder laugh comes out of you before you quiet down after he throws you a glare.

"I'm sorry. I'll leave… unless y'know I help you out."

You don't know what possessed you to say that. Your brain was too late to pop in and save you from the potential embarrassment that's bound to happen.

"I don't-"

He sighs, and you watch as his jaw clenches so hard you start questioning how his teeth are still intact. He's about to open his mouth to speak again before he motions you to the keyboard. Wordlessly asking for your help. You're about to tease him about not being able to ask you verbally, but you decide against it. You figure he's pretty damn close to throwing you out of his room out of embarrassment, so you silently move over to the computer and take off the pop-up ad, and you go to the search bar and type in your go-to websites.

"What are you doing-"

"Helping you."

Once you're on the website, you step back and let him get a good look at what he's been missing. It must be the fact that you've just spent the last few hours using your brain that it's now working on autopilot, because what leaves your mouth next is something you leave to your future self to worry about.

"Now what are you into?"

You scroll, looking through options. You've never picked out porn for someone else, so you're struggling to click on anything.

"I think I got it from here. Thanks."

His voice is gravelly, and his glare burns a hole into the side of my face, but instead of cowering away, I grab a chair and sit next to him.

"Really, because a few minutes ago, Sarah interrupted your prehistoric porn."

You smirk when you realize he won't answer your question, so you click a random video and wait for it to load. Once the video starts, you sit back and observe. You say it's to help him, but really, you're enjoying watching James struggle with holding himself back. His right hand, the flesh one, twitches. He’s holding himself back from moving it to his what you assume painfully hard cock.

James clears his throat and turns to look at you. His face is torn between frustration and need. You figure he needs encouragement, so you stand up and start removing your jeans. You see his adams apple bob as he swallows hard. You thank the universe for choosing to wear your favorite pair of lacy panties today as you slide them off and drop them beside you. James’ eyes follow you as you sit next to him with your legs spread just enough to see your wet folds. James’s hands twitch again, and you decide to end his self-inflicted torture.

“Go on… I don’t mind.”

He groans just low enough that you can barely hear him. He closes his eyes as he tries to convince himself not to do anything reckless.

“This is so wrong…”

He trails off. The video playing depicts the woman bent over the table. Your pussy clenched around nothing before you lowered your hand to ease the ache between your legs.

“Then ask me to leave…”

Your fingers circle your clit slowly, and you release a pleased sigh. Your legs spread, leaving your pussy fully on display for James. You hear James curse beside you, and it makes you want more.

“Don’t leave.”

You moan at his words. Holy fuck. You turn to look at James, who looks like a man starved. His eyes are zeroed in on your dripping cunt. His hand is palming his cock through his jeans, the sight makes you bite your lip before you whimper. You need way more than your fingers.

“James…”

You whine before you can stop yourself. Your face is on fire as you process your words. You're about to apologize, but his eyes are not on your cunt anymore; they're on your face. His tongue poking the inside of his cheek. For the first time tonight, a hint of a smirk flashes across his lips.

“Say that again.”

He speaks so low that you're sure you made it up.

“What?”

You ask breathlessly for clarification.

“Say. My. Name. Again.”

His hands are now reaching for the zipper of his jeans, and it gives you more confidence once you know he's just as into this as you are.

“James, please… come here.”

James stops for a second. His eyes search your face for any form of hesitation. When he finds nothing but want in your eyes, he kneels and slowly makes his way to you, a predator closing in on his prey. Once he's close enough to feel the warmth radiating off your body, his blue eyes lock in on yours.

“Are you sure?”

You don’t answer. Your free hand lands behind his head, and you pull him in between your spread legs. He looks about two seconds from going absolutely feral, but he clasps his hand around your wrist. His mouth goes to the inside of your thigh. He presses his lips onto your skin, eliciting a whimper out of you.

“I need words, sweetheart.”

A shiver rolls through your spine. Who knew James Buchanan Barnes could turn your cunt into a waterfall with just a few words?

“I'm sure, James… please, I need your mouth on me.”

You give in so easily. James eyes are full of desire when he finally closes in and runs his tongue through your folds. Slow and steady. You throw your head back and wrap your legs around him.

“Oh shit…”

You moan as he starts lapping slowly at your throbbing clit. His hands hold you in place as you buck into his face. His words are muffled as he tries to speak between your legs, but you feel every vibration run through your body.

“I need more.”

His beard scratches your inner thigh as his face is buried between your thighs. His lips wrap around your clit, and he sucks. Your eyes roll back in pleasure while your voice is gone. His mouth has single-handedly melted your brain.

“Tell me what you need…”

“I need you.”

You respond breathless. James leaves your cunt for a second, making you groan at the loss. A smile appears on his face, but before you can speak, his vibranium fingers slip into your folds. You arch your back off the chair and moan. He goes in slowly but stops at your reaction.

“Too much, sweetheart?”

You shake your head and bite your lower lip. You want him to stretch your pussy with more than just his fingers.

“Not enough, James.”

Your hips move forward searching for more of him, but he just smirks and leans back in between you. His free hand spreads your legs again, and you follow his lead without putting up a fight.

“Have to feel you cum under my tongue first.”

You whimper when he goes back in with no mercy this time. His mouth latches onto your clit. He switches between sucking and licking while his fingers work on stretching your cunt out just for him.

You feel your peak in reach every time he curls his metal fingers inside you. He hits your sweet spot every time, making your hips buck onto his tongue. Your thighs shake, and you find yourself wrapping your thighs around his head.

“Fuck…”

He moans into your pussy. You groan as his fingers quicken their pace and your pussy clenches around his fingers.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Cum on my fingers. Let me hear you.”

You whine as your orgasm hits you. Your hips are still grinding against James’ slick-coated face. His hands and tongue never falter, even as he groans when you cum under him.

“So fucking good.”

You shake as his tongue doesn't stop after you come down from your high. His metal hand comes up to your mouth, and you open your lips enough to let them in. You taste yourself and moan as he cleans you up with his tongue.

After he's done, he backs away slowly and wipes his mouth. A smirk is on his lips, and you look away, too shy to look him in the eyes after everything.

“No. Don't do that. You were the one who came in here looking for trouble.”

You swallow and get the courage to look him in the face.

“It’s not my fault, I could hear you from the hallway.”

He shoots you a warning look before he's up on his feet again. His erection was visible through the front of his jeans. He never took them off…

“No, but you did come in here after the fact. You know what I think?”

He asks as he bends over to come eye to eye with your face.

“I think you heard what I was doing in here, and you got so wet you just needed to see what it'd be like.”

He speaks low. His eyes lower to your lips, swollen from holding back moans. You open your mouth to speak, but his lips are already on yours. You moan against his lips. You can taste yourself as he slips his tongue into your mouth. His hand cradles your head while your hands reach forward to feel his bulge through his jeans. He groans against your mouth and pulls away before he's on you again, hungrier. His hands land on your hips, and he picks you up like nothing. The movement catches you by surprise, and you can't contain the yelp that escapes your mouth. James smiles against your lips as he brings you both over to his bed.

James lies you on his soft mattress without leaving your lips. His knees move, spreading your legs apart. You gasp when your sensitive core makes contact with his knee. James pulls his T-shirt off when he feels you tugging on it. His jeans are next. You take a moment to admire the perfectly sculpted body. Your mouth waters at the mountain of a man in front of you. He catches your eye and pulls you to the edge of the bed.

"You have a staring problem."

He accuses you. You laugh as he leans in again to kiss you. This time, he works on rocking his hips against your soaking wet pussy.

"Says you."

He doesn't respond, but he presses himself against you, and you gasp at the contact. His briefs are gone after that. He groans when his length slides through your folds. It's painfully slow. You try to speed things up, but his hands clamp down on your hips. The look in his eye is warning enough to subdue your efforts.

"If you keep doing that, I won't last."

He warns. A smirk appears on your lips. His brows furrow together, trying to figure out what it means.

"What are you waiting for?"

He buries his head into your neck and groans. His hands move from your hips to the hem of your shirt before peeling it off. His eyes land on your bra. It only takes a few seconds before he unhooks it to throw it somewhere behind him. Cold air hits your tits, and your nipples turn into small pebbles that James can't wait to wrap his mouth around.

His mouth wraps around the right one, and his vibranium hand comes up to roll your other nipple between his fingers. Moans fill the air as your own hand tugs James's hair. His own moans are heard while you tug.

"So fucking good for me."

He praises you before switching tits. You're right tit is slick with his saliva. The cold air making you whine as he repeats his actions of sucking and rolling with his fingers again.

"Fuck I need you, sweetheart."

He groans as he backs away from you and walks to his dresser. He opens a drawer and tries to pull a condom out, but a strip of condoms slips out instead. You giggle and watch him glare at you before he rips off a singular condom and strides back to the bed.

"What's so funny, sweetheart?"

The mattress dips beneath his weight as he rejoins you on the bed. He nibbles on your neck. You sigh as he continues switching between sucking and biting your neck.

"No-nothing."

James smirks against your neck as he rips open the condom and rolls it on his cock.

"Are you sure?"

His cock teases your folds again. Rubbing himself against your clit and watching as you shake beneath his touch. You whimper as you grind your hips to find some relief, but James is a step ahead. He presses the head of his cock inside your pussy. He holds himself there, breathing in through his nose to stop himself from being too rough.

"Answer me, baby."

He slides himself in deeper and groans. His voice was wrecked. He fights against his need to absolutely ruin you before he gets his answer. Whines spill from your mouth as he pulls out fully. Your pussy clenches around air when he does.

"I'm sure, James. I need you… please. Please fuck me."

Through your half-lidded eyes, you see James lick his lips. His lips crash onto yours again before he fills you up with his length. Your moans spill into his mouth, arousing James even more. His hips rock into your body until you're stuffed with his cock.

"Fuck, sweetheart, you're too fucking tight. Fuck I won't last."

His strokes become desperate. Your pussy suffocating him in the most painful yet satisfying way. His hands come up to knead your tits as he quickens his pace.

"James… fuck. You're too big."

His member throbs at your admission. You reach for him, scratching his back as he hits your spot just right. You moan into his neck and wrap your legs around him, holding him close.

"I need more. Please. Fuck… fuck me harder."

Your sweet begging switches a flip on James. His previous precautions of trying not to ruin you are gone. His eyes fill with lust as he places both his elbows beside your head and presses into you without restraint. His strokes hit your cervix just right. Your moans fill up the room. His broken moans hit your ears, and your hips buck up to meet his. You throw your head back, the sensations being too much.

"I-I'm close…"

Your own voice is ruined. James curses with every stroke now. The sound of your skin slapping against each other fills the room.

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck baby cum for me."

His ragged breaths are by your ear, and it turns you on even more. You're a whimpering mess when your second orgasm hits. Stars cloud your vision as James keeps slamming into you, chasing his own high.

"Fuck you're so perfect, sweetheart."

"mmm~ James, you feel so good…"

Your whines are what do him in. His hips rut into you sporadically. His chest heaves as he unravels above you. Your name spills out of his mouth as he rides out his own high inside of you. Your legs shake around him. Your body is too overstimulated with pleasure. After a few thrusts, he collapses beside you.

"You fucking ruined me, Sweetheart."

He says, before pulling you into a soft kiss. A thank you for ruining him in the best way possible.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

Hello! I enjoyed writing this so much. I'm honestly thinking about turning it into a series. Let me know if I should. If you liked it please let me know! Bucky is one of my favorite characters to write for!

[enchanthings]

◦˚~ SET OF BLUE DIVIDERS ~˚◦

Requested by: @rosaeh Info: these were all made by me. please follow my rules & reblog/like if use!