Summary: The iconic couple, Y/N L/N and Charles Leclerc, break up after five years of being together. Y/N releases a new song soon after the tabloids have released the information of their breakup, causing lots of controversy about where they both stand post their calling quits.
Warning(s): angst, hinting at heartbreak (Ariana Grande as our face claim)
ynln just posted some photos!
Location : Paris, France
liked by yourbff, lando, carlossainz, madisonbeer, halsey, charlesleclerc and 32m others
ynln : Fashion Weeeeeek in Paris :) Also got to sing some new music coming soon too 👀🤗
More to come 🫶🏼
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user Mother is slaying the game with these fits I fear
user She's literally so cute! 🥹🥹
user She looks so happy awww
yourbff Idk which song I'm ready for😩😮💨🙃
user HOW MANY ARE WE GETTING??!
yourbff uhhhh😬
ynln 🤪🤪
user Y'all did anyone else see that Charles is ALSO in Paris???
user He's there with Georgio Armani I'm pretty sure
lando Great, now come visit Monaco😢
ynln omw
lando REALLY😋😋
ynln no 🩵
maxfewtrell Mate, I'm hurting FOR u
user Ok but possible reunion between her and Charles? Especially if she is performing for Fashion week??? ANYONE??😰😰
fanuser just posted a photo!
liked by user2, user7, user1 and 1.593 others
fanuser : Y'all, I just met Charles Leclerc?? He's here for Paris Fashion Week???! Are we gonna get a Charyn reunion????? 👀🤩
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user I TOLD YOU ALL
user Guys chiiillll who knows if he and Y/N have even seen one another?
user They defs have, he was there when she performed at the pre-show gala 🙂
user WHAT
user I haven't heard much, but yeah he was there 😮💨😮💨
ynln just posted a photo!
liked by charlesleclerc, yourbff, Swarovski, lando and 28m others
ynln : Paris, thanks for having me; Dandelion out now🩵🥹
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user I'M SCREAMING WITHOUT THE S
user "Plant this seed' ?!!?!?!?! MISS Y/N WHAT🧐🧐😟
user Oh y'all she is COOKING I cannot wait
yourbff I can be anything you'd like?? Please??😔
ynln ughhh. I suppose😏🥰
lando Idk if I should be scarred mentally or excited for the rest of the new music coming after this release🤧
ynln Weren't you literally just singing it in the car???
lando WHO TOLD YOU
ynln maxfewtrell has entered the chat
maxfewtrell oops😋
lando You absolute muppet
ynln It's ok I know you'll never admit you're obsessed🤗🙂↔️
lando Sure sure
user Y'all I love this trio so much lmfao
user Why don't her and lando just date
charlesleclerc no
yourbff She's out of his league lets be real😮💨
lando WOW OUCH OK ENOUGH
ynln hahahaha
charlesleclerc just posted some photos!
liked by ferrari, ynln, lando, carlossainz, lewishamilton and 12m others
charlesleclerc : Had some fun during Paris Fashion Week, thanks for the invite georgioarmani
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user FOAMING at the mouth 😩🤩
user Y'all why has this post been frozen on my screen for eight hours
user SO GOOD HE LOOKS SO GOOD
carlossainz My oh my what have we here👀😋
charlesleclerc all for you 😘
lando ayo??? 😔
user I think this is all for someone whose name is ynln
user You might be onto something there
user Y'all there's pap photos of him and Y/N together on his boat??? HELP? SEND HELP??!
ynln just posted some photos!
liked by yourbff, maxfewtrell, lando, charlesleclerc, haileesteinfeld, and 37m others
ynln : Now I just can't go where you don't go
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user Y'ALL THAT'S LITERALLY THE SWEATER CHARLES WAS WEARING A COUPLE DAYS AGO
user Omfg they're together y'all DON'T PANIC
user IT'S TIME I'M NOT READY
user WHAT IF THE CAPTION IS ABOUT HIM???! I CAN'T
user Wellll most of her new album I think will be about him lol, there are soooo many signs
yourbff Glowing 💕
ynln Been a while🤗
user OH IT'S SO CONFIRMED GUYS
lando Y'all it's me actually, I'm the one she's talking about 😚😙😝
maxfewtrell You wish you knob
lando LEMME DREAM OK
ynln Let the poor man dream Max🤧🤧
lando YEAH- wait....🙂
maxfewtrell I'm gonna pissa myself from laughing 😭🤣🤣🤣
ynln just posted some photos!
liked by eltonjohn, yourbff, charlesleclerc, kellypiquet, mileycyrus, and 42m others
ynln : She's out and I'm crying! 🥹🩵🩵😭
Eternal Sunshine is not only one of my top favorite albums, but the most personal one I've made. The one, mon chérie, who inspired most of the music will always be someone I hold dear to my heart.❤️ Many tears were shed while making this, but I wanted you all to feel closer to me in a way I cannot explain. Only sing. I hope you all enjoy it.
I love you 😘
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user WAIT I'M NOT READY 🤧
user AGH THE TEARS 😢😢😢😢
user Oh she absolutely cooked with this I will be ugly crying and staying locked away for the time being 🙂↔️
yourbff Such a great album, I can't wait for the world to heal with you😭💕💕
ynln 🥹🤧
user Omfg guys most of these songs have me in an absolute chokehold
charlesleclerc So proud of your accomplishments, cherie. Hard work paid off 🩵
*liked by ynln*
user AYO CHARLES WHAT'RE YOU DOING HERE
user STOP YALL I CAN'T
user Between this album, the possibility of them seeing each other again, and how happy she looks I can't fathom the way my chest cannot take this
Summary: The iconic couple, Y/N L/N and Charles Leclerc, break up after five years of being together. Y/N releases a new song soon after the tabloids have released the information of their breakup, causing lots of controversy about where they both stand post their calling quits.
Warning(s): angst, hinting at heartbreak (Ariana Grande as our face claim)
A/N: idk about a pt 2 yet, we shall see
TMZ just posted a photo!
TMZ : Get your tissues ready, folks, because this is gonna break your hearts!
Famous Singer/Actress Y/N L/N and Ferrari F1 Driver, Charles Leclerc, have called it quits after almost five years of dating! Sources say it was a mutual breakup, but both parties have come clean about the breakup, stating they both very much will remain friends, but they're both at different parts in their lives. 🥺
After the pair had met through mutual friends, Lando Norris and Max Fewtrell, the pair had easily become inseparable, moving quickly into their relationship just weeks after meeting.
How're we feeling about this news? 👀👀
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user I'm actually ugly crying rn, THEY WERE SUPPOSED TO GET MARRIED YALL 😭😭😭😭😭😭
user This has to be some April Fool's joke, right..... RIGHT??!
user I no longer believe in love after this because wtf 🥲
user NO WHAT NOT MOM AND DAD😰😰😰
user Nobody talk to me I'm breaking at the seams 😩🤧
*ONE MONTH LATER*
ynln has just posted a photo!
liked by yourbff, theweeknd, charlesleclerc and 15m others
ynln : I didn't think you'd understand me
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user MOTHER RETURNS AND THE CROWD IS..... In a corner??! They're crying?!
user Oh no, I can't deal with the breakup music, my heart hurts 🤕
user I ALREADY KNOW THIS IS ABOUT CHARLES I CANT OK😢😢😭
user Someone needs to pay for my therapy😟
user New music incoming, I'm sobbing🙃🙃
yourbff Babygirl it's just me and you 🩵
*liked by ynln*
tatemcrae This brought me to absolute tears 🥺
user I just know I won't be sleeping for weeks after this comes out
ynln just posted a photo!
liked by charlesleclerc, yourbff, lando, maxfewtrell, and 17m others
ynln : So, for now, it's only me
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user I can sense this mv is gonna fuck me up yall
user This song is gonna hurt isn't it???
user I'm afraid so, my friend
maxfewtrell I'm so reviewing this on my Twitch when it releases. We will cry together chat
ynln I'll bring tissues
maxfewtrell I'll need towels at this point🤕
user Not Max being her biggest fan lmfao
lando Ugly crying I already know🤧🤧🤧
yourbff I'll wait for your love🩵
*liked by ynln*
user Nooooo pls tell me that's just her bestie saying it to say it😩😩😩😩😭
user It's a lyric, I'm pretty sure, we're all gonna hurt on this one.🥲
ynln just posted a photo!
liked by lando, yourbff, maxfewtrell, charlesleclerc, dualipa and 27m others
ynln : we can't be friends (wait for your love) out now on all platforms🩵 I love you all
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user I'M CRYING YALL GOODBYE 😰😐
user NAH because it's the way most of the scenes in there were things her and Charles did together I CAN'T 😟
user I had to pause and walk away from the MV because she literally is saying she wants to erase their mems together because it hurts too much I--😰
lando Can I say I'm crying rn
ynln This is a safe space
lando Good because you may need to pay for my therapy😮💨😭
ynln You're fine
lando NO
user It's the way the necklace she pleads to keep is literally the one Charles gave her on their one year, you guys, I fear I'm not okay rn🙂↔️🙂↔️
yourbff Proud of you, this is my most favorite song you've ever written tbh🥹🩵😭😭
ynln Even the one I wrote for you?
yourbff That one is in its own category thank you
user The way she is saying she can't be friends with C anymore because all she wants is his love. Y'ALL THIS IS TOO MUCH
user Screaming, crying, throwing up, breaking dishes, flipping the couch
maxfewtrell This made me so emotional, damn you
ynln I can see that on your stream
maxfewtrell I'm flicking you off now
*liked by ynln*
user y'all it's the fact he's actually flicking her off on stream lmfao
user and I quote "Fuck you for making me feel like I'm going through the breakup, dammit" - maxfewtrell twitch stream
charlesleclerc 🧸 🩵
user NO NO NO CHARLES STOP IT
Charlesleclerc just posted a photo!
liked by lando, maxverstappen, lewishamilton, ynln, and 21m others
Summary - Monaco in December. A fake holiday romance. The boy you grew up loving. What could go wrong? Apparently, everything, especially when pretending with Charles, starts to feel a little too real. (friends to lovers) Warnings - none (2.2k words)
Song Choice - Baby Blue Movie - Cigarettes After Sex
Like the whole city is holding its breath. The waterfront lights drip gold across the water, long shimmers that sway like they are dancing. The air is colder than most people expect, a crisp kind of cold that settles on your cheeks and smells faintly like the sea. You have always loved it. You have always loved the hush that falls when the tourists leave, when the decorations go up, when the streets you grew up on start to glow.
This year feels different though.
Maybe because you’re older. Maybe because everything in your life is a little heavier. Or maybe because Charles Leclerc is standing outside your apartment right now with his hands shoved in his pockets, looking like he has gathered every ounce of courage available in the world.
You open the door before he can knock a second time.
He looks tired. Not the physical kind that comes from no sleep after a long race weekend, but the deeper kind, the one that settles around the edges of someone who has been carrying too much for too long. His smile still flickers though, warm and instinctive.
“Hi,” he says softly.
“Hi,” you echo. “Come in. You look cold.”
He steps inside and the familiar scent of him follows. Clean laundry and something faintly like salt and sand. You’ve known him since you were five, so you should be used to it. Somehow it still makes your chest shift.
He hovers near your counter while you close the door.
“So…” he starts, clearing his throat. “I need to ask you something. But I need you to promise you will not laugh.”
Oh God.
“Okay,” you say.
He runs a hand through his hair. “I need a girlfriend.”
Your heart stops. You are sure of it.
He sees your expression and winces. “Not a real one. I mean… pretend. Just for Christmas. For the family gatherings. To stop all the questions about my season and when I am finally going to settle down and why I look like I have aged fifteen years in one race season.”
You feel your shoulders loosen. Just a little. Enough to breathe.
“Oh,” you whisper. “A fake girlfriend.”
“Yes.” His eyes meet yours, warm and hopeful. “And I trust you more than anyone. And you know my family. And you are… comfortable. You make things easier.”
Comfortable.
The word lands gently. It should not make your stomach twist. It does anyway.
You have had a quiet, stubborn love for him for years. Since you were kids in matching swim suits tumbling down beachy hills. Since he grew taller one karting season and came back with a deeper laugh. The feelings have simmered and burned slowly over time.
“Say no if it is weird,” he says quickly. “I will understand.”
He would. That is the worst part. He would never push you.
But the truth is, you have always found it easy to help him. To be there when he needs you. And his eyes look so tired right now.
“I will do it,” you say before you can stop yourself. “Of course I will.”
Something releases in his shoulders. Relief floods his face.
“Thank you,” he murmurs. “Really.”
You know how difficult this season has been. You would do anything to slightly lift the burden on his shoulders.
He pulls you into a hug. It is warm. Familiar. But something about it feels different too. His arms stay around you a fraction longer than usual. His breath brushes your temple. When he pulls back he looks like he wants to say something else, but he shakes it off.
“The first gathering is tomorrow night,” he says. “Just dinner like normal. Nothing big. Arthur will be on his best behavior, hopefully.”
“Hopefully,” you repeat with a soft laugh.
“We can just tell them something has been here - he gestures in the space between you - for a while.”
He smiles crookedly, then leaves with a promise to pick you up at seven.
When the door closes, you stand there alone, your heart thudding too loudly for someone who is supposed to be calm and collected. You are two years younger than him, but sometimes you feel much younger in moments like this. You have learned how to hide your feelings well. You just hope that skill holds.
The first dinner is at his mother’s. A warm apartment filled with candles and soft music and the unmistakable scent of roast chicken. Pascale pulls you into a hug instantly, smiling like she has been waiting for you.
“You look beautiful,” she says. “I am so happy Charles and you finally figured things out.”
You feel your face warm. “Thank you, Pascale. Me as well.”
Charles hovers beside you. Close. Too close. His hand grazes your lower back when he guides you toward the table. A small gesture. Anyone else would miss it. You do not.
Arthur waves at you from across the room. Enzo gives you a grin that you have known since you were both in school. Your brothers greet everyone like they always do, comfortable and loud. And you sit beside Charles, feeling strangely aware of the warmth of his thigh near yours.
The dinner is easy.
Pascale talks about how lovely it is to have both families together again. The boys tease each other. You laugh at all the right moments. But you can feel Charles watching you sometimes. As if checking that you are alright. Or maybe checking that you are still willing to play the part.
After dessert, his mother leans in with a knowing smile.
“You two look good together,” she says softly.
You almost choke on your tea. Charles shifts beside you, cheeks flushed in the warm candlelight.
“We are…” He hesitates, then rests his hand on yours beneath the table. “We are taking things slow.”
The words make your stomach flutter. The touch makes your breath snag.
It is all pretend. You remind yourself quickly.
But his thumb brushes your knuckles, so light you almost do not feel it, and you are not sure he remembers that it is pretend.
When you leave, he walks you to your apartment
“You were perfect tonight,” he says. “Thank you.”
“No problem,” you say, trying to sound casual even though your pulse is unsteady. “Your family is easy.”
He smiles as if that means more to him than it should.
He lingers again. There is a softness around him you rarely see. A faint vulnerability that slips through the cracks of his usual confidence.
“I am really glad it is you,” he murmurs.
Before you can think, he leans forward and kisses your cheek. Slow. Warm. Too lingering to be friendly. You feel your breath catch.
He seems to realize what he has done a second too late. He pulls back quickly, eyes wide.
“Goodnight,” he says in a hushed voice.
“Goodnight,” you whisper.
He walks away fast, almost flustered. You close the door with trembling hands.
The next gathering is bigger. Louder. More chaotic in the best way. Charles holds your hand the moment you walk in. It feels natural, frighteningly so. He introduces you to relatives you already know, though they pretend to meet you as his girlfriend, their smiles bright and playful.
“She is lovely,” one aunt whispers to him, not realizing you can hear.
“I know,” he replies, voice soft.
Your heart stumbles.
He checks in with you constantly. A gentle touch on your arm. A soft smile across the room. A low “you alright?” whispered near your ear. You feel safe around him. You always have. But tonight feels different. Tonight you feel seen.
As the night stretches on, you find yourselves by the balcony. The air is cold. The city is sparkling like a bowl of diamonds. Charles leans against the railing beside you.
“Thank you for doing this,” he says again.
“You keep thanking me.”
“Because you keep saving me.”
He says it quietly. Honestly.
His season has been rough. You know how much he pours into racing. How much it hurts when things go wrong. How he carries blame that is not his. How he hides it so his family will not worry.
You nudge his shoulder gently. “You know you do not have to have everything figured out all the time.”
He laughs softly. “Says the girl who has had everything figured out since she was six.”
You smile. “That is not true.”
He looks at you then. Really looks. The kind of look that settles deep in your chest.
“I know it is not,” he murmurs. “You are good at pretending. I think that is why I asked you. Because I knew you would understand.”
Your breath catches. For a moment it feels like he is saying something more. Something he is not quite ready to name.
But then Arthur slides the balcony door open and pulls Charles back inside for a photo. He grabs your hand on instinct. Fingers intertwined. Natural.
The photo flashes. The room laughs. But Charles’s thumb is still brushing the back of your hand, slow, thoughtful, like he forgot to stop.
You start to second guess saying yes. You start to second guess believing you were strong enough to pretend you could hide your feelings. Bury them. Push them down.
Later, when the night winds down and your families begin to drift apart, Charles finds you in the kitchen. He leans against the counter, watching you with that same unreadable softness.
“Walk with me?” he asks.
You nod.
Outside, the night is quiet. The coastline glitters. The air smells like pine and cold.
You walk side by side down the familiar street.
“I need to tell you something,” he says, hands in his pockets. “Something I should have said before we started this.”
Your heart thumps too loud. “Okay.”
You stop walking.
He stops too.
The world feels still.
“I think I have been avoiding this for a long time,” he continues. “Since we were teenagers maybe. But being with you these past few days… it felt easy. It felt right. And tonight, watching you laugh with my family… I do not want to pretend anymore.”
He steps closer. The soft yellow glow from the street lights warms his face.
“I want you,” he says quietly. “Not as a front. Not as a favor. I want you.”
Your breath trembles. “Charles…”
“I know you might not feel the same,” he says quickly. “But I need you to know how I feel. I cannot keep acting like this is nothing when it feels like everything.”
You swallow hard. Warmth spreads through your chest.
“I have loved you for years,” you whisper. “I just never thought you would see me that way.”
His face breaks into something soft and disbelieving. “How could I not?”
He reaches for you slowly, giving you time to pull away. You do not.
His hand settles on your jaw, gentle, steady, and he leans in like he has wanted this for a long time.
The first kiss is slow. Careful. Warm enough to melt every worry you have ever held. His lips taste faintly like the dessert his aunt made. His thumb strokes your cheek. Your fingers curl into the fabric of his coat, holding him close.
He pulls back just an inch, breathing uneven.
“Tell me to stop,” he whispers.
“Do not stop,” you breathe.
The second kiss is deeper. His hands slide to your waist, pulling you flush against him. The world narrows to the warmth of his body and the soft sound he makes against your mouth. Your fingers slip into his hair, and he groans quietly, a low sound that sends heat through your stomach.
“You feel so good,” he murmurs against your lips.
Your pulse stutters.
He kisses you again, slower, firmer, guiding you back until your shoulders brush the cold railing behind you. His mouth trails along your jaw, warm and soft, and you feel your breath catch in your throat.
“Charles…” you whisper.
He pulls back only enough to look at you. His eyes are warm and unguarded in a way you have never seen.
“I am yours,” he says quietly. “If you want me.”
“I do,” you whisper back. “I always have.”
He smiles, soft and full, and presses his forehead to yours.
“Then stay with me,” he breathes. “Not for pretend. For real.”
Your heart swells. “Okay.”
He kisses you again. Slow. Sure. Certain.
And when he finally pulls away, the city hums around you, soft and glowing, like Monaco itself is holding its breath for the two of you.
He laces his fingers through yours and starts walking again, a small smile tugging at his lips.
“Come on,” he says gently. “I want to take my real girlfriend home.”
Your chest floods with warmth.
The world feels like a snowglobe.
And for the first time, you are inside it with him.
summary. releasing a new music video from your current album has everyone excited. but the thing is, the song you chose to film is your first love song
radio "comments and reblogs are much appreciated!" yeah no we are fully turning into a charles girl you know the off season has been wild for me. i had to do a lot of editing for this one to be as immersive as i could be so 🙏 i hope you enjoy. ++ also i know Y/N is grammatically correct, but i simply don't care. so we all call her YN or yn.
yn.png ✔
yn.png ✔ 'Socialite' mv is wrapped 🎬 let me edit this one rq
◯◯ Liked by interscoperecords , charles_leclerc , ynupdates
navyblue YESSSS
tillyea am i seeing 👀👀 a MAN in this music video
applemusic oh we are so ready
starwarsfan been waiting for this since the album release!!!
filmbella imagine being charles leclerc , and your favourite singer just made a song about you , and there's a pseudo charles leclerc in her music video
socialitemenace is that a pseudo charles ???
delilahby_yn won't be surprised if it is
ynmicro when did he say he was a fan of her
ifywwk there's just about 3000 clips of him back in like 2020 and 2021 when he was streaming and kept mentioning her music
usernotfound i'm sorry my man is just too down bad
dumbblondemoment i love that everyone is on the same wavelength that this song is about charles leclerc
ynmicro aren't they dating alr ???
dumbblondemoment not yet confirmed 😞😞
lilyseaside goat
yn.png the goatest
When YN releases a music video, you can feel the heart and soul that comes out of every frame. From the camera angles, to the cuts, and just way that the light curves around the room. She knows how to direct and edit her own music videos, and it really shows. 'Socialite' is her fifth song on her EP 'EVERYBODY GOES SOMEWHERE'. Here's everything you need to really hear about this MV:
'Directed and Edited by YN' okay we get it queen, you're multi-talented
She knows how to build a lived in room. Props to her and the set builders because of how full this set looks
"You know I'm easy to love" / "Since this is all that I've got" STOP DOWNPLAYING YOURSELF! YOU'RE A GRAMMY WINNER!!
A man??? In her music video????? Ok??????
THE WAY SHE CRADLES HIS FACE HELLOOOO???
Girl just get out of the house I promise it's not that dramatic
Nevermind she literally lives in the middle of an ocean
ARE YOU ACTUALLY GONNA KISS HIM OR NOT?? STOP TEASING US
THAT NUZZLE IN HIS NOSE... OH DEAR....
"I" / "Wanna try" / "But tonight" / "We're socialites" is my new ringtone btw
Oh my god put your hands out under her shirt please we have an audience
I'm overthinking the symbolic colour of purple in the entirety of this MV.
Now did she pull them down or did he push her out of the window and she dragged him with
r/ynln · 20 minutes ago
saltseven
Theories on who "Socialite" is about?
I know most of her songs are in some POV but this is the first time she's ever made a love song. I remember that she mentiomed she finds love songs difficult because she hasn't been in love in a long time
Everyone theorizes it's Charles Leclerc (F1 Driver) because of some dating rumors
Can you tell me why people think they're dating? I'm out of the loop...
She was spotted in Monaco with Charles in January and there's a rumour going on that she was on his yacht when he threw a party. There's no pics of her in the yacht but a lot of people were saying that they met a "foreign popstar" in the boat
There is a video of her in the yacht btw! It's kind of hard to tell but that's her in the kitchen wearing the same dress she wore in this instagram post. The post was also on the same day that the party was held
okay so im actually gonna talk abt the mv. its def a metaphor on how their love can exist inside where no one else can watch them. the house itself is also very messy and it almost feels like its gonna spill out stuff from the windows. her going into the ocean with him is them finally coming out as a couple, despite how messy it is
its a very domestic and loving music video. looks kinda like a love confession and telling the other person you wanna come out to the public
it is kinda sad though if you have to literally write a song about how you can't come out public tho??
i think she pulled them out of the window at the end. his eyes widened a little bit as if he didn't rlly expect it and it makes sense thematically that she would be the one wanting them to leave the house
Agree. But also she's never been the type to be too public with her personal relationships. So I'm wondering if it's still just a POV or her actual feelings
YN Updates @ ynofficialarchived · 25 February
Spotted in Monaco once more 👀📸 On the yacht of Formula 1 Ferrari Driver Charles Leclerc's yacht
141 replies 1.81k reposts 6.11k likes
dumb blonde moment @ mikmikhalo18 · 25 February
— Replying to @ ynofficialarchived
oh ok so we are real now
2 replies 17 likes
buttered (elijah) @ tooin2eat · 25 February
— Replying to @ ynofficialarchived
NAHHHHHH FUCK OFF RIGHT WHEN I WAS GONNA SAY IT WAS JUST RUMORS
1 replies 4 likes
mia 🕸 @ webberstrr · 25 February
— Replying to @ ynofficialarchived
is this the hard launch that she was yearning for because i need a carousel post of them NOW
4 replies 6 likes
adalind's socialite @ grimmglam · 25 February
now who's the fan here yn who was invited to the redbull garage in 2025 or charles who framed her album in 2021
21 replies 71 reposts 491 likes
coco @ enemyterritorie · 25 February
— Replying to @ grimmglam
charles
4 likes
missing danny (since 2024) @ bamboozled2021 · 25 February
— Replying to @ grimmglam
charles
8 likes
yn 🌹 @ yn_labelled · 25 February
— Replying to @ grimmglam
Charles
21 replies 492 replies 1.21 likes
YN has written songs to prove a point—to raise awareness, the create a narrative, to make sure that Hollywood and the music industry knows that it is well and trully messed up. 'Socialite' is her biggest challenge yet; a pure and unadulterated love song.
In her recording studio, the song being played for the first time in my ears, YN is fighting her tears. She's embarassed but laughs it off and briefly it's a callback to receiving her first Grammy. "I'm kinda stupid emotional about it," she says. "It's a sad song but not really. Because my feelings... I don't like to think of it as ever invalid, it's just a brief mourning before I do something about it."
On that day, she's been surrounded by twenty people from her label discussing how she wants the flow of the music video to be. She's thinking of people to cast and she keeps coming back to one specific face: brown unfurled hair, watercolour blue eyes, and a dimpled smile.
When asked who her muse was, she laughs. "Everyone loves him," she says with an almost solemn look in her eyes. "I always found writing love songs embarassing. What if we break up? What if it goes wrong? What if... whatever.
"But I love him." She decided on an actor and she's discussing how she wants the set to look like. "I love him right now. I'll love him as much as I can in this lifetime we have."
yn.png ✔
yn.png ✔ good aftie
◯◯ Liked by charles_leclerc , ynupdates , lilyseaside
eveelution ma'am do you know what psychological damage you gave us
lilyseaside ok ms casual hardlaunch
yn.png eughhh stop judging me pls
lilyseaside girl i'm not judging u i'm stating FACTS
tilbury I see you girl 💅💅 We love that look
ynupdates OUR PRETTIEST GIRLLLL
mormulamone how does it feel to be a wag
filmbella someone ask charles how it feels to be a hab
yearner33 charles can't fight us all
vrikrik i'm so upset i swear i had a chance
charles_leclerc Good aftie !
yn.png CRINGE BLEHHHHH
lilliies ma'am he's your boyfriend 😭😭
arcticchimpanzees she's literally me
YN | You are now private messaging @ yn.png
111M followers · 102 following · 1038 posts
charles_leclerc
babyyyy
please stop ignoring meeeee
yn.png
i'm going to block u
charles_leclerc
it was not my fault
🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺
yn.png
FYM
I TOLD YOU YOU HAD PAPPARAZI EVERYWHERE
WHY DO YOU THINK THEY WON'T SEE US ON THE YACHT
charles_leclerc
i had faith in humanity
✋😞🤚
yn.png
no
stop messaging me here or i will also block u on insta
charles_leclerc
PLEASE NO
Hello, this is Charles' PR. We would like to request you to unblock his number at utmost immediate urgency. He threatens to delete this account if he doesn't get unblocked on WhatsApp.
yn.png
one, unless u were found on the epstein files, ur pr team will not be responding to u whining that quickly
﹙ drabble ﹚ ── three times charles leclerc yearns and one time everyone saw it
ㅤㅤ.ㅤㅤdespite petty rumours, you and charles know who fell first, and who fell the hardest. while his winning streak maybe shit, he absolutely sweeps the competition when it comes to those two categories.
ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤit's like it's been destined since the beginning of time. charles can't put his eyes anywhere but to you.
ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤyou weren't even doing anything. lounging by the balcony, feet prepped up on your chair as you doomscroll on your phone. you woke maybe twenty minutes ago and have been too lazy to make breakfast.
ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤbefore you know it, your boyfriend is crawling to your lap and placing his head under your phone.
ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ"mornin'," you say, eyes still on your phone. "i'll make breakfast in a bit. i'm too lazy."
ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤcharles lets out a sigh, "it's okay. i like it here."
ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤyou look at him then, as if he's insane. "kneeling on the cold tiles?"
ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ"in your arms."
ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤthe french may be romantic, but he's monaguesque—as he loves to remind you. so, he's on a different league of cringe-worthy pick-up lines. it works perfectly fine.
ㅤㅤ.ㅤㅤ"hey," you greet charles. he perks like a dog from the couch as you're still panting from your evening jog. "i'm back. i brought back some bread since we were out some."
ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤhe pats the space beside him. "come here," he begs. he's looking like a kicked leo over there. "did you take a detour? you've been longer than usual."
ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤyou tsk. "no, the same route." dropping the plastic bag to the kitchen counter, you take off your shirt. "and i'll sit down later, i'm still sweaty."
ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤwithout even a glance at him, you know what he's looking at. you roll your eyes, "come on, now. get over it. you've seen it many times before."
ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤcharles lets out a laugh. "doesn't mean i'll get tired of it, mon cœur." he gets up from the couch, as if being there jails him from you. "a kiss, please. i deserve it from living without you for hours."
ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ"hours?" you parrot, snorting. "it's been an hour, tops." he tries to kiss you and you back off before he could. "shower first, leclerc! i'm disgusting."
ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ"you're disgusting for not letting me kiss you," he complains, trying to corner you. you best him by running to the shower. "hey! this is so not fair!"
ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤall the way to the shower, you're laughing. it takes you minutes to finally feel fresh again. when you do exit the shower, a very eager and wild leclerc has pounced you to the bed. so, you're just dirty again.
ㅤㅤ.ㅤㅤyou're not a fan of cameras. you hang in charles' room when he's busy with the media or the social media team. he knows you don't like cameras. he knows you prefer the quiet of his room. so you don't really know why he's pouting and all rushed when he finds you there.
ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ"i have been looking all over for you," he says, defeated. he scoots you over to the edge of the couch before he lays in your lap. "why didn't you text me you were here?"
ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤwithout hesitation, you tangle your fingers in his hair. "i didn't think you'd be like, i don't know, searching for me?" he huffs, crossing his arms.
ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤhis eyes are closed in content. though, his lips pout still in prolonged upset. "everyone told me you were the other girls. and you weren't. and i tried every single one of them."
ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ"you went to all of the hospitality?" you ask, a bit baffled. "seriously, why didn't you just text me?"
ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤcharles shrugs. "i don't know, i just thought." he opens his eyes, looking at you before quickly laying on his side. "i don't know."
ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤsometimes, you're not sure how charles could act like such a teenage girl. a man of his age wouldn't be pouting for his own stupidity. but then, charles leclerc exists. it's a rarity but hey, they exist.
ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ"just text me next time," you pet him like leo. it works wonders for all dogs, you think. even the most yearning ones. "i literally don't leave this place."
ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤcharles hums. "just stay with me next time. you're allowed to be there, you know?"
ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ"i know," you sigh. "but i feel like i'd be such a distraction if i was."
ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤwith that, charles laughs. "yes," he agrees so quickly. "of course you would be. no one is saying it is a bad thing."
ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ"i think everyone but you would say it's a bad thing, charlie," you correct him.
ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤthe stubborn man he is, he just makes a disagreeing noise and calls the conversation over.
ㅤㅤ.ㅤㅤmaybe the event is just too boring. you don't really know. but charles attention seems to be only to you and nothing else. you're standing up, trying to look for your friend when charles just has his arm aroud your waist and pulling you close.
ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ"but you've seen them over and over again, mon amour," he complains, hands tugging you closer. "just stay with me. i can't survive this without you."
ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ"stop being dramatic," you joke off, "you've survived countless of events without me. "
ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤcharles, stubborn, just whines and pouts as he looks up at you. "talk to them later, just sit back down, come on, please?" he puts his other arm around you as he pulls you until your stomach is against his head.
ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ"save me, i will be cursed for the entire night if you leave me."
ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤwhen you dated charles, you knew what you were up to. a lot of paparazzi, crazy fans, so many fucking rumors. you weren't actually prepared for charles himself, funnily enough.
ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤsitting down, you scoff. "i require a girls night for this," you negotiate.
ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤhe's not even listening as he pulls your chair closer to his. "mhm, okay." your chairs are right next to each other as he drags your legs on his lap.
ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ"okay?" you repeat. "a girls' day and night, actually. we need to gossip about everything."
ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤnodding, he intertwines your fingers together. "whatever you need to do," he just says. he's thumbing at the back of your palm with a small smile.
ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤsighing, you tell him, "i'm also taking leo, your car, your wallet," you list out as he's completely dozed off, "then i'm also taking lorenzo with me. arthur too. your maman too while i'm at it. actually, i'll take the entire apartment, if you will."
ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤwhen you come home that night, you find a clip of him staring right to your fingers before just staring at you with a ridiculous smile. all the while you list out how you're taking his entire family and property.
ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤthe fans don't have the audio of what you're saying, but everyone knows that charles is just stupid down bad for you.
radio "comments and reblogs are much appreciated!" PROMISE i will work on asks soon but this ,.. i just had this idea cuz i genuinely am thinking abt that longfic i want to write. which i might start tmr or next week. i am down bad for a yearner and charles leclerc looks like a yearner to me
𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: During one of Starks famous party’s you and Steve…get to know each other better.
𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Steve Rogers x Reader
𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: alcohol, drinking game [ truth or dare], smut, technically dub-con since both of them are drunk, dirty talk, slight Captain kink, fingering, oral ( F ), unprotected sex (don’t be silly wrap your willy ), hangovers
Please let me know if I need to add something.
It’s my first English smut one-shot. I hope you’ll like it, let me know!<3
Please be aware, English is not my first language, I can’t guarantee there are no mistakes.
!18+!
A horrible headache woke you up. Your head felt like it was about to explode. Growling, You buried your face in your pillow.
It smelled so nice...
Somehow better and different than usual?
It smelled like....man?!
Startled, You opened your eyes and looked directly into the sleeping face of none other than Captain America himself.
You drew your breath sharply in.
Then it occurred to you-did the two of you-? You quickly looked under the covers-You were naked. Oh holy....
How did this happen? You were barely talking the last few months and suddenly You wake up in his bed?
Stupid alcohol.
Yesterday there was a party that Stark had organized. Normally You didn't go to these, but yesterday You had decided otherwise.
For years You were a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent and now also an Avenger. Well, technically only for a month, but still. At this party You wanted to meet the Avengers, get to know them more-but waking up with Captain America was not on your mind, when You said You wanted to get to know them.
Slowly, You turned on your back and tried to recall last night, even though it would probably make your headache worse.
•••
Nervously You entered the room. The party had been going on for at least two hours.
It's a funny habit of you to show up later at parties; many people were already drunk and it wasn't so tense anymore. So it was better to be a bit late.
"Hi, you look great," Natasha said as she came up to you. You had been friends for a really long time-if she hadn't talked you into coming here today, You wouldn't have come. "Thanks, so do you, Natasha." You gave her a friendly smile, even though it was slightly forced and probably looked like you were stressed.
You latched onto her arm and walked with her to the bar. It would be easier after a few shots.
"Tequila?", asked the redhead. "You know damn well that never ends well," You laughed out, after which You nodded anyway. You were right. It had not been a good idea to choose tequila.
Suddenly the loud laughter of Thor interrupted our conversation- Thor was nice and You liked spending time with him. When You looked at him, You realized that he was certainly drunk. The alcohol he always brought with him was really strong. At least that's what Natasha told you. It was apparently something for gods. You never really attended these kind of Stark-Party’s before, so it was the first time you could really see it.
Now You saw it with your own eyes. This alcohol was definitely stronger than anything for a normal human.
"Just look at those idiots. Finally I won't be the only woman on this team," Natasha laughed next to you . Grinning, you shook your head slightly. "This is going to be an interesting evening," You mused as You looked around at the guests-well, your gaze lingered on Steve.
You had to admit that You liked him for some time now. That's also why You kind of avoided him as much as possible. Whenever you got into a conversation, You started stuttering, blushing, and- in short, making a fool out of yourself.
It was just embarrassing.
"Lady Y/N! Come join us!", Thor snapped you out of your thoughts. Quickly you finished your glass, refilled it, and joined the others. Natasha was already sitting there drinking a beer. Since when did she had a beer? You sat down next to Natasha, she winked cheekily at you. Immediately your lips twitched upwards. Tonight would be a great evening. You were sure of it.
An hour later, some people had already left; Bruce wasn't feeling well and decided to go to bed, Clint was so drunk that he had also gone to his room. Maria already went home-as had many others. You didn't feel too sober anymore either. This was certainly noticed by the others; You laughed more, louder, spoke more openly, joked...And you also flirted. You werde definitely drunk. But I felt really good. Kind of made you more confident.
"You know what-now would be a game pretty funny-like truth or dare," Tony spoke to himself. Or us. You couldn’t really tell, since he was looking at the ceiling. "Kind of like how it used to be during the school days...lots of drinking, gambling, beautiful women," he continued to speak with a glance at Natasha and you. Your cheeks turned slightly red, which is why You lowered your head.
You felt someone sit down next to you. Automatically you looked up-just to meet Steve’s beautiful blue eyes. “Hello Captain”, you said with a slight smirk. The soldier smiled and leaned a bit closer to you. You could feel your heart beat faster. “Don’t listen to Tony. He’s completely drunk…even though he’s definitely right. Beautiful women. You look great, Y/N”, said the solider with a bright smile. This compliment made your cheeks redden.
At some point, you all did start playing the stupid kids game. But you did it a little differently-with an app, since neither of you would be creative enough to come up with good tasks. So we ended up with Tony having to pour a drink into his pants, Thor having to tell us when he last had sex, Natasha having to drink two shots, and so on.
"Y/N, this next one is to you-truth or dare?" read Tony, barely comprehensible. "Dare." Your drunken self certainly wasn't scared and shy anymore.
"Well, sit down onto the lap of the person on your left." You looked at Steve, puzzled, since he was on your left. For a moment he just closed his eyes and sighed. He knew he wouldn’t live this one down-Tony would probably make fun of him for weeks. “Yes, it’s fine. Come here”, said Steve with a friendly smile.
Slowly You sat down on his lap. Briefly, you slid around a bit to find a comfortable position-just then he grabbed your hips and squeezed them slightly. You could feel how you clenched around nothing. "You better stop that, sweetheart. I'm very….sensitive..." grumbled Steve in your ear, which made you hold your breath for a second. No one but you could hear this. And it made your heart jump.
With red cheeks, You looked at him for a moment. Without saying anything, You nodded quickly and remained sitting quietly and without moving much more.
"Ah how wonderful, Capsicle. This is probably the only time you'll ever get this close to such a beautiful woman," Tony slurred, causing Steve to sigh in annoyance. That’s exactly what he imagined would happen.
You in return merely chuckled and leaned into his chest a bit. Steve kept his hands on my hips. He gently stroked them with his fingertips. Sometimes you could swear he also squeezed them.
Pretty soon after that Thor fell asleep on the sofa-Natasha was gone after she said she was going to get a drink and never coming back-probably she also went to sleep-Tony was taken away by Pepper and so everyone slowly walked to their rooms.
It was just Steve and you left.
Your head was in the crook of his neck while his hand had slipped from my hip to my thigh. He stroked it gently. You felt bad for having so many different and definitely not innocent thoughts about how this situation could turn out. One thing was clear-it was driving you crazy. You felt everything inside you tingling-but especially between your legs.
"We should get going...", You heard Steve's husky voice against your ear. Immediately you got goosebumps. It felt nice to have him so close to you.
"Mhmm....It's so comfortable though...", You whispered chuckling quietly, lifting your head a little so You could look at him.
Steve's look was different. Darker.
The two of you stayed that close for some time. Eyes closed, just cuddling. "Or we could have another drink....," Steve murmured, which made you grin. You nodded immediately and turned slightly in his lap so you could grab your glass from the table.
As You slid back Steve made a noise that resembled a moan. "Oh sorry if I hurt you," You apologized and looked up at him. He didn't look like he was hurting though. Rather the opposite. Like he…enjoyed whatever just happened.
"It's okay, it's okay." He quickly grabbed the drink and took several big gulps of it. The smell of it was so strong that just the thought of drinking it disgusted me, but I knew that only this alcohols had an effect on him.
You also drank a few big gulps of your drink. You hesitated briefly before You changed your position, so you could wrap your legs around him-torso to torso. His one hand slid from your hip to your waist-the other remained on your thigh. His thumb kept stroking your bare skin. Again and again over the inner side of your thigh. This touching was driving you crazy. You could feel how you clenched around nothing. You slowly slid a little closer to him. Apparently he was feeling the same thing, because there was a hard bulge in his pants.
"Steve...", You breathed out. "Hmmm," Steve pulled you a little closer. Teasingly You bit your lower lip and stroked with your hand along his chest. "Ah fuck it." With those words, You grabbed his shirt and pulled him against you. Without a second thought you presst your lips to his. Yet you pulled away quickly. It made Steve whine quietly.
"Sorry I-" Immediately You were interrupted by Steve lips on yours-he kissed you. Steve Rogers was kissing you…and he was a Great kisser. He slipped his tongue in my mouth, what caused me to moan faintly.
Within a few minutes the kisses became more demanding and passionate. It started to because more teeth and tongue. Your whole body felt on fire. A soft gasp escaped your lips, when Steve's hand slowly stroked under your dress and stopped at your underwear. Teasingly he stroked over your slip. Your slip was wet, which made Steve grin. His thumb slid over your sensitive bud. A surprised gasp escaped your lips, when you felt him massaging your clit-before it disappeared. But just for a moment. In the next second you could feel his hand sliding under your slip. Again he started to rub your sensitive parts. You gasped-which sounded more like moan, losing yourself in his touch.
Slowly, Steve bent over you so that you were lying on the couch; him above you, between your legs. This position caused your dress to slide up higher, which made Steve look at your underwear. Thank god you actually thought about putting on something sexy-even if it wasn’t your plan to get laid tonight. You were not complaining. His hand slid out from your slip, just so he could grab your ass. Captain America must have had a weakness for-
A low moan interrupted your thoughts when Steve pressed his hips against your. Grinding against you. Fuck, I really needed him. Inside me.
"S-Steve...", You whimpered softly against his lips. Immediately, he pulled away and looked at you. He was totally out of breath. You let your gaze linger on his face.
He looked so beautiful.
Disheveled hair, reddened and somewhat swollen lips from kissing, pupils wide. His shirt was by now partially unbuttoned and pulled out of his pants. Your lipstick on his lips and neck smeared.
"If you want us to stop, I can stop, we don’t have to-," You quickly interrupted him by pressing your lips to his. The kiss did not last too long, because You quickly started kissing his neck afterwards.
Again You felt him roll his hips slightly against you, making both of you gasp.
You ran one hand over his crotch and rubbed his dick over his pants, causing him to moan softly. Teasingly you let your hand slid over his waistband and again to his dick-still over his pants. God you really wanted to have this dick in you. He felt big. Like really big.
"Steve...we can't do it here," You breathed as his hand slowly slid to again your crotch-exactly where you wanted it. Yet, you stopped his hand, staying in the living room was too risky; someone might catch you-plus Thor was asleep on one of the couches. So you definitely didn't want to continue here with him in the same room.
Slowly, Steve nodded. "Yeah...yeah, you're right," he mumbled, putting his arms around you, so he could carry you. He stood up-automatically You wrapped my legs around him, pressing yourself tightly against him. Again your lips met in a passionate and demanding kiss.
On the way to the elevator you bumped into a few things; the dresser, on which a vase stood-well, not anymore-, the armchair. Steve stumbled over the carpet, which made you giggle softly. He couldn't hold back his grin either, but you made it into the elevator unharmed. Somehow.
Immediately he pushed you against the wall. His body trapped yous between him and the wall. You felt so small in contrast to him. He was so…big. So much bigger than you. His biceps was probably the size of your head.
He frantically pressed the button of the floor on which his room was, which made you grin again. "That impatient, Captain?", You breathed cheekily in his ear. Gently, You nibbled at his earlobe, which made him growl with pleasure. A moan escaped his lips.
You could listen to that sound every day.
His hand finally slid to the place where You wanted him the most. When he stroked over your panties along You could not hold back the quiet whimper anymore. You couldn’t any longer. Steve teased your sensitive bud with a few strokes, before he took his hand away-again. "Already so wet...all for me. And your tellin’ me I'm the impatient one," the Captain teased you. Your cheeks turned red. He was right, You were impatient. You couldnt wait to feel him stretch you out. Feel his dick fill your tight pussy.
"That's what I like about you..." he suddenly whispered, gently stroking your cheekbone with his nose. On this he gave you a gentle kiss.
Before You could answer, the elevator door opened. Again Steve grabbed you a little tighter in his arms and walked towards his room. He pressed his lips to your neck, kissing it. Automatically your body pressed against his lips while your hands tampered with his shirt.
As soon as you entered his room, he laid you down on the bed. On the way to the bed he had already lost his shoes somewhere in the room. Your heels had also fallen off at some point. Steve slowly pulled up your dress, your hands roamed over his massive arm. Wow, you were right, his biceps were huge. For a moment you thought about it if you could ask him to choke you with these. His shirt quickly found its place on the floor. It was the first time You saw him without a shirt-damn, and he looked really good. Better than that. He resembled a Greek god more than a normal human being.
You moaned softly as he kissed a sensitive spot on your neck and sucked on it very gently. These open, passionate kisses drove you crazy. You wondered what else he could do with his mouth....
While Steve took off your dress, You sat up a little to make it easier for him.
Your hands were working on his belt in the meantime - You opened it very quickly. Also the button and zipper of his pants. Steve was hard. You could already see the huge bulge.
When You laid down again, Steve pushed your legs a little further apart so he could lie between them. Oh thank god, it’s happening. His kisses traveled from your neck to your cleavage and over my breasts, which were clad only in thin fabric. With his thumb he teased one of your hard nipples. "I'll buy you a new one, I promise," Steve spoke quickly against your skin. Confused, You were about to ask him what he meant when he suddenly gripped the bra tightly in one hand and ripped it off your body. Startled, You drew in your breath sharply, a moan escaping your lips at the same time. You immediately felt your heartbeat quicken and felt a throbbing between your legs- did this really turned you on so much?
You felt Steve grin against your chest. He didn't say anything, but You knew for sure that he had noticed how this affected you.
As he kissed your body, You buried one of your hands in his hair, which was already completely disheveled either way.
When his lips reached your abdomen, he looked up at you briefly. In his gaze You recognized the same thing You had just seen. You nodded slightly and in the very next moment he grabbed the hem of your panties and ripped them off your hips. Fuck. Once again you felt your pussy clench.
The cool air hit your throbbing pussy and made you gasp in surprise. With that you heard a rough laugh from Steve. "Steve please...", You whispered. "What exactly?" he breathed back teasingly. "Please touch me. I can't take it anymore," You whimpered, to which he immediately responded. He buried his head between your legs and put his lips around your sensitive clit. You sighed in pleasure while he let his tongue glide over your pussy.
His tongue slid between your folds and back to your clit. He let a moan out while he buried his tongue once again between your folds and licked into you. The taste of you made him want more. He could stay here forever. Between your legs just eating you out. “Fuck Steve-“, You moaned when you felt him suck at your bud.
You couldn’t think about anything else anymore. It was just him. And what he was doing. You wanted more from him. You wanted him to fill you. "Please...Captain...", You moaned as he let one of his fingers slid into you. "Patience, love..."
Without looking at him You felt his grin against your skin.
This was how he continued to tease you. With the stimulation on your sensitive bud and the way he kept hitting that special spot with his finger that You could never find, You felt getting closer to your orgasm. Your body began to tremble-but just then he stopped his movements. "Don't stop," You immediately whined. "Please don't stop, Captain..." how could he do that?! You had been so, so close.
"Shsh not yet, in a minute," he breathed against your pussy, making you wince slightly. Slowly-really slowly-he added a second finger, making you moan with pleasure. "You're so tight...I want to feel you so bad" "I'm not stopping you from that," You quipped, for which You received a light slap on my thigh. Surprised , You gripped his hair tighter and gasped. It actually was nice. The slight sting on your skin made everything more pleasurable.
When he started licking and suckling on your clit and sped up his hand movement, a breathless moan escaped your lips. "Oh God please, Steve...Ca-captain-don't stop," You tried to say at least one sensible sentence as You felt your orgasm washing over you. It happened so quickly You didn’t had time to tell Him you were close. Steve gasped softly as your walls tightened pulsatingly around his fingers. He moved his fingers and sucked on your clit, not stopping your first orgasm, making you tremble even more. This made your orgasm even better. Even though you couldn’t really keep still. It was just…so much.
Then he came up to you again. A hungry look in his eyes.
Immediately You pulled him into an open mouth kiss. You could taste yourself on his lips. It made you moan in the kiss. "Steve," his name escaped you softly as he took his fingers out of you. "Open Your pretty mouth", he just murmured as he held his fingers to your lips. Without hesitation, You opened your mouth for him and he slipped his massive fingers between your lips.
You moaned while you started to suck at his fingers, like you would do to his cock. This made Steve bit his lower lip. “Fuck sweetheart. You have no idea how much I want to feel that mouth on my cock. Such a pretty thing”, he whispered. You didn’t expected him to have such a filthy mouth. It was really surprising-and Steve seemed to notice this, because he started to grin slightly. “There's a lot about me you don't know…not yet" he breathed against your ear, which made your heartbeat quicken.
Steve widened your legs even more by laying down between them. He kept his fingers in your mouth, which at least muffled your moans as he let his top slid between my folds. You were sure it wouldn’t fit-he looked massive compared to your tight hole-and Yet he slowly started to push in. Inch by inch. He stretched you so much, it burned slightly. But it was a good burn. He was the biggest You ever had. He also probably ruined all other men for you.
Damn, he was really big... You closed your eyes in pleasure, when felt him slide over your spot. Just then steve took his hand from your mouth and gripped your jaw, causing You to open your eyes again. "That's a good girl...I want you to look at me when I fuck you," he growled against your lips. "Yes, Captain," You whispered. When he started to move, You gasped. He hit every spot in you, that you could think of. It was hard to keep your eyes open, but You tried.
But as his thrusts got harder it happened again. You closed your eyes-for which he slapped your thigh. A loud moan escaped your lips. You’ve never felt so good. Steve knew how to make you crazy. His cock was hitting your G-spot with every thrust. You couldn’t keep your eyes open.
This happened a few times and as You kept closing your eyes, he slapped your thighs. Every time his flat hand landet on your skin, he could feel you tighten around him. It made him do it harder. He knew you were close. Very close. He could feel you squeeze him. It made him pound in your harder. Hard enough that the headboard started to hit the wall.
"Ste-Cap-Captain-I," before You could finish speaking your next orgasm overtook you-more intense than the first one. Your whole body shook violently while you cried out in pleasure. You could feel your juices gush out around Steve cock. The sound your body’s made were straight out of a porno. Steve moaned into the crook of your neck as he felt you squeezing him so much, he nearly couldn’t move. "You feel so good...shit. So tight. You were made for me, baby”, he mumbled while his thrusts became even harder. You would definitely feel him for days.
Once again Steve started to rub on your clit. It was painful and pleasurable-you didn’t know which one more. Even though you didn’t know it was possible, you could tell you’d come again. But you wanted Steve to come too. In you. You wanted feeling him fill you with his warm cum.
"Cum for me, Captain. Please-fill me," You moaned into his ear, which made him burry his head in the crook of your neck. His hand motion sped up. As soon as your climax hit you, you screamed out in pleasure. Everything in you tensed up. All your muscles. Never in your whole life have you had an orgasm like that. Moaning you bit lightly steves shoulder. Steve felt his balls tighten. He was close. Within a few more thrust his orgasm overcome him. He buried himself as deep in you as possible. You could feel him filling you with his seed, painting your walls with his warm cum. It made you moan once again. Your walls continued to squeeze around him, milking him.
Slowly and also very gently he let himself fall on top of you. His head was in the crook of your neck as he gently wrapped his arms around you. "Please stay like this...", You whispered barely audibly as You wrapped your arms and legst around him in. “Yeah, okay”, he whispered against your skin. You were both exhausted.
Silence. A comfortable silence. Just your heavy breathing.
Your legs were still trembling, so Steve gently started stroking them. He reached for tissues that were on his nightstand. That movement alone made you whimper. Everything in you was overstimulated.
Carefully he pulled out, wiping the seed away, that came out after he moved. "It’s so much" You mumbled as You felt it once again float out, which made him laugh barely audibly, as he wiped his seed of from my skin. His cheeks were slightly flushed and he looked...embarrassed. There was the golden boy again.
Steve laid down next to You and covered you both with a blanked. Immediately, You began to smile ever so slightly. You were tired. Exhausted even. You had a hard time keeping your eyes open. "Good night, love," Steve whispered as he put his arms around You and placed a kiss on the top of your head. "Night," You grumbled before falling asleep.
•••
Steve's growl snapped you out of your thoughts. Immediately You looked at him-he was awake. He ran his hand over his temple as he slowly rolled over onto his back. He still had his eyes closed, so he didn't notice you. You weren’t sure if he remembered yesterday. Immediately You started to feel bad. What if he regretted it?
When You turned on your side, his head immediately snapped to you. Surprised and also very sleepy. How cute he looked like that. Immediately his cheeks turned a little red as he smiled shyly. "Hey...", he whispered. "Good morning, Steve," You breathed softly as heat shot up to your cheeks as well. "Slept well?" At your question, he nodded slowly and turned to the side to face you. Carefully, he placed his hand over mine. He squeezed a little. You could tell her was nervous. “Do you…remember?”, he asked. You nodded, without saying anything. “Okay, good…I do too…do you…do you regret the night?”, this time you shook your head. Steve smiled immediately-this made you smile too.
"This is weird now but...would you like to have dinner with me sometime? Just the two of us...I should have asked you that before-before" He gestured with his hand between the two of you. "-but I hope you’d still go out with me? Like…a date?", Steve spoke a bit flustered.
“Yes, Steve, I’d love to.”
That’s it! I really hope you enjoyed reading! Please let me know:)
You can tell me if something is wrong or what i should change<3 I’d be glad actually.
It’s the first time i wrote something in English so I’m pretty sure it’s not the best. I would love to improve my writing 🥰
𑁤 Stucky x reader (Bucky Barnes x reader, Steve Rogers x reader), Smut 18+, Threesome (m/m/f) , Eiffel tower position, unprotected sex, blow job, rough sex, Porn without plot, why choose?, a little nipple play, dirty talk and pet name during sex, don’t be picky please and read the end, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! . . .
You didn't know how you had ended up in that situation.
All you knew was that you were currently sitting on Bucky’s lap, deeply busy in kissing him on his couch, while Steve was behind you also busy unfastening the annoying bra that covered your breasts.
You’d always had a thing for them but you certainly hadn’t expected things to reach this point -not that you were complaining, if you wanted both of them, why choose?
After removing your bra, Steve moved his hand to your breast, cupping and squeezing it in his large palm, he brought his head close to the back of your neck -moving your hair aside with his free hand, and began planting soft kisses there.
You were still distracted by Bucky’s heavenly lips meeting yours, but you could feel Steve’s fingertips tracing the contours of your nipples, applying gentle pressure as he lightly squeezed them -just enough to send shivers racing down your bare back.
"We're going to make you feel so good, doll" Steve whispered close to your ear, you moaned softly against Bucky’s lips and pulled away to catch your breath, but you impatiently slid off Bucky’s lap to sit on your knees on the sofa, leaning down slightly to feel in your palm the outline of his hard cock visible through his jeans -giving Steve a great view of your ass, covered only by your panties.
It took only a moment to undo Bucky’s belt and lower his trousers enough to free his hard cock, slick with pre-cum, you placed a hand at the base of his cock while feeling Steve’s hand settle on your hip and as you began planting wet kisses on Bucky’s pink tip, you used your free hand to grab Steve’s wrist and guide it to your lace panties -letting him know it was time for him to get to work, too.
You began running your tongue along the length of Bucky’s cock and when you reached the tip, you finally took it into your mouth -it was huge, you weren't exactly surprised but you weren't sure if you could take it all, you even used your hand to guide his length into your mouth, trying to get his cock deeper and deeper down your throat.
Steve followed your orders, he slid your panties just down your ass, with an iron grip he placed one hand on a cheek while using the other hand to tease your intimate area.
He slid two fingers toward your completely wet pussy, with the tip of his thumb, he found your clitoris and began to stimulate it with light, circular motions. Then with messy motions he moved his two fingers along your labia until he reached your tight entrance and began to gently penetrate you with his fingers, preparing you.
You kept taking Bucky’s cock deeper and deeper into your mouth, his hand was in your hair, pulling gently and you moaned around his cock, completely lost in pleasure.
Magnificent sounds escaped his pink lips, not extrimly loud moans but something lower like a groan, he parted his lips as he made them, only encouraging you to take more of him into your mouth while you jerked him off with your hands.
But beyond being filled with pleasure from the front, you were being filled from behind as well, because Steve was still back there, touching your most sensitive spots and you couldn't wait any longer, your hollow cheeks were flushed around Bucky’s cock and tiny tears were at the corners of your eyes from how deep he was, but it wasn't enough, your greedy ass needed Steve, too.
So as you moved your head up and down, you lifted it higher than usual and turned to look behind you, revealing a shirtless Steve pushing his long fingers into your opening, completely desperate you breathed out the words "Steve, I want you inside" your voice needy, before turning back -your face flushed with pleasure, to look at Bucky, who was enjoying the work of your mouth, you planted a kiss on the pink tip before taking him back into your mouth.
Steve finally pulled his fingers out and in less than 2 seconds, you felt a hard, raw thrust drive deep inside you, you could feel his length and thickness as he penetrated you. He started with messy and deep thrusts but soon he started to go inside you with a fast rhythm. You felt Bucky too, pushing deeper and deeper into your mouth while Steve, from behind, made you feel his full length.
Then, Steve placed your hand back on your soaked pussy and used his fingertip to stimulate your clitoris again. You were moaning like crazy from the pleasure those two men were giving you, knowing damn well you wouldn't last much longer.
With only a few thrust u came all over Steve’s cock -which was still inside you, you pulled your mouth away from Bucky’s cock as you came with a loud moan, still feeling your pussy penetrated by Steve, Bucky slid his hand from your hair to your cheek, caressing it lightly, While you came, you felt a sense of dissatisfaction, wishing it would last longer -but of course, your men had already thought of that.
"Relax, doll -you didn't think we only planned on making you come once, did you?" he whispered, a faint, provocative smile playing on his lips as he glanced up at Steve, who was looking at you with that same look.
"How about a little switch, mh?" Bucky asked, his fingers still on your face, your heart was beating fast in your chest and your pussy was still soaking wet and trembling slightly as Steve gently pulled out from you.
"Already?" you murmured tired -but obviously still ready for more, Steve grabbed you by the hips and laid you on your back on the couch, "What, already tired of us doll?" he asked teasingly before crashing his lips onto yours.
You felt Bucky get up from his spot behind you and move around to the front, Steve stepped off the couch and stood there, while Bucky positioned himself right between your spread thighs, he removed the shirt that had been bothering you so much, revealing his huge, sculpted body and grabbed the backs of your thighs -felling the cold metal of his hand against your burning skin, before put your leg onto his broad shoulders.
"Bucky" you whispered breathless and needy, arching your back slightly at the contrast between your burning-hot thigh and the cold metal arm gripping your warm skin with an iron hold. Without any warning, he thrust deep and fast inside you, his hips driving back and forth just after just 2 minutes he was inside you, you buried your face in the soft cushions of the couch and watched Steve pulled his pants all the way down, revealing his rock-hard, dripping cock and those toned thighs.
He moved closer to the side of the sofa, excatly where your head was, letting your face and his cock be face to face, while you felt Bucky’s raw, powerful thrusts as you pressed yourself harder against the couch, Steve placed his hand on your jaw "Open up for me, baby" he whispered and you immediately obeyed.
"Good girl" he said with a satisfied smile before sliding into your mouth, he fucked your mouth gently, trying to match Bucky’s rhythm -thrusting in and out in perfect sync, and it was driving you absolutely crazy, you felt completely filled in both holes.
In that position, Bucky kept hitting your sensitive spot over and over, you could feel his thick cock penetrating you and driving straight to that point. Meanwhile, Steve was massaging your jaw with his veiny hand as he thrust into your throat, you were hearing Bucky’s deep groans and Steve’s soft whimpers who created a perfect symphony.
Almost instinctively, you rested a hand in Bucky’s hair, feeling his thrusts leave you increasingly vulnerable, he could feel you wrapped tightly around him and you could tell he liked it -maybe even a little too much. "You’re so good for us, doll -right, Steve?" he whispered between low groans as he thrust into you, keeping a firm grip on your thighs.
"Oh my god... so good -taking it deeper and deeper" Steve whispered as he kept thrusting into your throat, holding your face still, driven by the need to keep going, meanwhile, Bucky knew he wouldn't last much longer -he could feel your walls tightening around him every time he hit your sensitive spot and he continued with those heavenly thrusts.
Bucky could hear the soft moans muffled by Steve’s cock filling your mouth, feel your palm gripping his hair and giving it a gentle pull and sense you trying to squeeze your thighs close to eachoter even though your legs were draped over his shoulders, it was all becoming too much too handle and he felt himself reaching his limit.
He tried to pull out, but -even though you were occupied with Steve, you gave his massive back a gentle push with your leg, trying to draw him back against you. In the moment Steve was outside your mouth before thrusting back in, you whispered a soft "Finish inside" with that desperate face full of pleasure, and Bucky was sure he heard clearly. And how could he possibly refuse a request like that?
He thrust inside again -hard and raw, emptying himself completely inside you, needless to say you were close too and just as you let go, Steve let out a low groan before emptying himself into your mouth -the three of you were cumming like when there are domino tile in line and you push only the first and they all start falling off, and you didn't even need to be told to swallow immediately.
But of course that night didn’t end there and you were certain that the next morning Bucky would definetly argue with his neighbors.
//Hi! Please don't be picky, it's just smut. I'm not trying to romanticize Bucky’s trauma or his character, I wrote this simply because Sebastian Stan is hot.
Idk if I like this, I feel like this while writing..
Summary: The first time Steve Rogers saves your life, you hate him for it. The second time, you kiss him. As a relentless stalker closes in and your world becomes smaller and smaller, the one person you can rely on is the bodyguard who’s sworn to keep his distance. But the closer the danger gets, the harder it becomes to ignore the growing attraction between protector and protected.
PSA (Pink Service Announcement): this is not an exact replica of the absolutely masterpiece film. it's more like a scrapbook of it! A lot of similar scenes and dynamic but I cut them up and rearranged them a bit
Word Count: 15.5k (a week late because I couldn’t stfu)
Warnings: fem!reader, no use of y/n, violence, gun violence, a gun is shot at a crowded event/concert and triggers mass panic, hurt/comfort, canon typical violence, choking (not kinky), blood, sex, unprotected p in v, oral (fem!receiving), fingering, brat! reader, gratuitous use italics, if i missed anything please let me know, this one's is a doozy.
DT: Once again my sweet Maddie! @epiphanyrogers I had so much fun with this collab and playing with this concep, it's some of my favorite writing in a long time and I can't thank you enough for letting me be apart of it, love you forever and ever
You can't make out what they're saying.
The crowd, the absolute mob packed outside your recording studio. There's more of them than you can count, certainly more of them than you.
They're lined up against a barricade, temporary metal posts creating a pathway from the building to the car. It's twenty steps, door to door.
Every single square inch of it is filled.
"Nat?" You call out behind you, "do you have a pen or something I can use to sign stuff when we get out there?"'
You can hear the click of her heels behind you, rapid fire on the tile as she rushes to catch up.
"Here." She passes you a black sharpie, then without asking tucks a second one into the back pocket of your pants. "Just to be safe."
You give her a grateful smile. "What would I do without you."
A throat clears behind you, like a grey storm cloud descending.
Ugh. You almost forgot he was there.
"You understand that these people could be dangerous? They are complete strangers who had nothing better to do but wait outside all day to see you."
Steve's voice is a never ending monologue, constantly droning on about all the things you do that are 'dangerous.'
"You understand ninety percent of them are teenage girls?" You mean it in a kind way, as if to catch him in an aha! moment. You love your fans. You love their spirit, their passion. If you had to choose a demographic to go to war with it would be teenage girls.
"There's almost two-hundred people out there." Steve's voice is beyond serious, his body positioned between you and the door. "Even if ninety percent of them are harmless, that's still twenty people who aren't."
You turn your head away from him, glancing toward Natasha for help.
Help she does not give, offering you a sympathetic smile and shrug instead.
She never picks a side between you and Steve. You should know better.
Besides she was the one who actually found Steve in the first place.
"Former Secret Service." She'd told you, reading off his resume with nothing short of awe. "Plus he's a vet, special forces. His track record is impeccable."
That had been enough for you at the time. After all he was just a bodyguard, just another layer in your ever growing ecosystem. It's not like you would be interacting a lot, not like your life would change. You just needed a little more protection, just for a bit.
In hindsight you should have asked for questions.
Questions like: "If you don't understand the relationship between artists and fans, why the fuck did you take this job?"
Or maybe: "How many cameras do you plan on installing in my house? And if I say no to getting more- will you just install them anyway?"
Perhaps: "If this is just 'you doing your job,' why do I think you get a little hard every time you tell me I can't go somewhere?"
Most important: "How did you get that stick so far up your ass? Did you need lube?"
You'd also like to know what he benches but that's neither here nor there.
Unfortunately though, you asked none of these questions. So instead of a bodyguard, you gained a six foot tall baby sitter.
It hasn't brought out the best side in you quite honestly.
"Well then." You do you best to give Steve a look that screams nonchalant, putting on your sunglasses and uncapping the sharpie from Nat. "Guess you better do your job."
The crowds eats up every moment you give them, being sure to take your time going to each individual person. One at a time you signed CD's, vinyls, pictures and even someone's forehead.
It's your favorite part. This whole stupid, messy, sometimes put-a-bomb-in-your-dressing-room-scary job is worth it when you make just one person happy.
There's no better feeling.
It's almost a full half hour later when you get in the car, black door sliding shut behind you and sealing your fate. Just you and Steve in the backseat, the rest of your team following in a second car.
He's pissed, you can practically feel it vibrating off of him as he speaks.
"I can't protect you like this."
You pull your sunglasses off, tucking them into your purse as you answer. "I'm sorry?"
Steve huffs, crossing his arms across his chest. "I can't protect you when you are constantly putting yourself in harms way."
"Oh my god!" You roll your eyes, voice incredulous. "I would hardly call signing a couple of autographs harms way."
Okay maybe it was more than a couple. Maybe you purposely stopped by every single fan you could reach. Leaned over the barricade more than you should and smiled for every selfie.
"Someone wants you dead." He flat lines, mouth set in a grimace. "Or did you forget that?"
Bile threatens your throat at the mention, the memory flooding back to you.
Smoke filling the hallway of the venue you were playing, backstage an absolute mess. The heat of fire and the boom of an explosion.
The source? A gift basket in your dressing room. Buried under Champagne and complimentary snacks was a bomb just big enough to kill you.
If you'd been in the room.
Thankfully you hadn't. You'd been twenty feet away on the other side of the wall.
The smoke inhalation had you on bed rest for a week, your team in utter chaos as they tried to track down the source. Then the first note came.
If I can't have you no one can.
Written in messy scrawl on top of your latest magazine cover. The one where you talked about your dating life, the one were you fed the interviewer some half-baked lie about a make-believe boyfriend.
It was supposed to get the tabloids off your back, not attract a crazed stalker.
Then came the break-in. Sometime after one A.M. he managed to get inside your house. It was sheer luck you weren't home. Even more so that your daughter, Sarah was at your mother's.
He left rose petals on every inch of your bedroom, the broken thorny stems scattered over the duvet. A heart drawn in fake blood staining the carpet.
Steve was hired three days later.
Another letter came, this time with a picture of you out on a run. 'Can't run from me' etched across it in red marker.
Steve moved into the pool house, just to be safe.
"I didn't forget." You voice is smaller than you meant for it to be, more sheepish.
Steve softens, his posture loosening as he continues. "All I'm trying to do is keep you safe, but I need you to listen to me."
You nod, his voice has gone soothing, the same tone you'd use on a child. It makes you blood boil and tears prick your vision. It's not that he's being unreasonable, you know that. It just hits you differently, being treated like you can't manage your own life, no matter how big it's gotten.
"It's not forever," he promises. "Once we find this person you'll be back to business as usual. But until we do, you need to be careful, pick and choose your exposures."
"Like New York?" You ask.
New York is a pop-up show, an intimate venue with cheap tickets. You've been looking forward to it for months and Steve has been trying to talk you out of it.
He nods, "like New York."
You sigh, pulling your shoulders in as if it might help your shrink.
"You still don't think it's a good idea."
"I know it's not a good idea."
Your brain ticks, too stubborn to give it up.
"What do I need to do to convince you it's safe?" You know, in your gut that it will be fine. It will just be you and the fans and they would never hurt you.
"Your team is only big enough to properly handle one event at a time." He explains, "with the awards so close to the concert, we'd need a few people to stay here and handle preparations for that."
The decision is easy, honestly he should have lead with that.
"Wait, so if I skip the Grammy's they can come to New York with us?"
Steve nods, expression grim as if he expects you to fight him on it.
"So I won't go."
His eyebrows shoot up, shock evident. "Really?"
You nod, the weight on your chest easing. "Yeah, I mean I'm only presenting this year. I'd rather have the chance to perform and connect with my fans."
Steve nods, surprise still etched in the furrow of his brow.
"Okay. I'll let them team know."
For the first time since he started, the tension between you eases. The constant burn of frustration dampening to a low simmer.
"Does this mean I can go out to dinner later?"
Steve answers immediately. "Absolutely not."
Despite his answer you feel yourself smile, maybe, just maybe you can make this work.
Radio crackles have become an all too familiar sound.
Over the past month they've basically become white noise.
The popping of static in the background of every room, courtesy of Steve's insistence that your entire security team use walkie-talkies.
When you leave a room, when you enter a room, when you go to the kitchen and make a sandwich. There it is, that coiling speaker-
"Robin has entered the media room, secure southern window."
There's always at least one in the house with you, usually two. Always reporting back to the rest about your whereabouts. Meanwhile the rest of the team secures the outside,
Robin. That's you. A bird with fragile little legs and hollow bones.
Really makes a girl feel special.
"Blue is entering the front gate in car four. Be ready to meet her at the main garage."
Blue. Sarah. Her name makes even less sense.
Surely Steve picked them.
He'd pressed one into your palm on his first day, told you to keep it close at all times.
It's been sitting on your dresser ever since.
You took the batteries out in the first night, defiant and probably just a little immature.
"Channel one is the entire team's main line. Channel two is anyone currently assigned to Sarah. Channel six is my private frequency, completely secure, only yours to use." He'd explained it all like it was rocket science, taking careful time to show you how each button worked and assuring you that he would always answer.
It's late, later than you'd like to still be awake. Books aren't cutting it, your eyes just skimming over the page without grabbing any of the words. There's nothing to find on TV, reruns of sitcoms and The Hangover. Even your phone offers no good, your social media accounts locked by your team because of the threats, precautions taken to make sure your mind is as protected as the rest of you.
Except now you're bored.
The batteries snap back into place with a beep, the walkie coming to life in your hands.
It crackles for a moment, your confidence faltering as it finds the signal. Static passes through the speaker, uneven and spastic until finally it goes quiet in your hands. The little screen blinks up at you, pixel display glowing that weird yellow green all old tech has.
Your fingers find the dial, navigating between frequencies until you finally find the right one.
The speaker clicks under your thumb. "Rogers?"
It's barely half a second, maybe two, before it crackles to life in your hand. "Everything okay?" Steve's voice is garbled on the other end, blended with static and probably exhaustion.
You smile, delighted he answered. "Yeah I'm fine, sorry." You assure him, "just realized I never actually tried this thing. Thought I'd see what all the fuss is about."
Steve is quiet on the other end for a moment, probably catching his breath after a near heart-attack. You almost feel bad for a moment, the panic in his voice still in your ears. Almost.
"What are you still doing up?" He asks.
You move over to bed, laying flat on your back in the center of it with the walkie on your chest.
"Can't sleep."
Steve doesn't answer, letting yours linger between you instead.
It's been awkward, ever since you left the studio the other day. Like you're each waiting for the other to burst. A constant blanket of tension between you. Both too stubborn to pull at it.
"What are you still doing up?"
The antenna twists in your hands, nervous fidgeting as you wait for a response.
"Watching a movie." Steve answers, "I don't think I've ever seen a TV with this many channels."
That surprises a laugh out of you, the image of him sitting on the couch by himself clicking through every station.
"Are you saying I have better cable than the White House?" You ask.
"Yes." Steve answers immediately, only this time you can hear an edge in his voice. Almost like a smile. "You have more channels than the President. I mean seriously when are you even home to watch this much TV."
"Says the man who literally has me on house arrest."
The joke falls flat, at least you're pretty sure it does. Steve sounds completely unamused when his voice crackles through again.
"If there's nothing you need-"
"No Steve wait! I'm sorry okay, bad joke." You interrupt, frequency riding over his. You sigh, deep and heavy as you try to find the words.
Steve lets the line be quiet, waiting for you to pick it back up. Offering no lifeline in terms of conversation pivots.
"I wanted to thank you." You finally relent, feeling your throat seize as the words leave you. "For what you did with Sarah today."
Sarah, your sweet, stubborn, incredibly spoiled girl. She threw a tantrum the size of Texas when you told her that you couldn't go for ice cream.
It had become a tradition, whenever you were lucky enough to be in the same place for more than a night you'd get ice cream. Which means when you're home for extended periods, well- you eat a lot of ice cream.
Something Sarah has apparently become accustomed too.
"Sweetheart." You breathed, desperately trying to calm her. "We have ice cream in the freezer, the rainbow kind you like, doesn't that sound good?"
Her following wail was a resounding no.
You'd already followed her outside, standing in the backyard while the sun and its judgment beams down on you.
"Not the same!" She whined, stomping her foot between each word. "Always get ice cream."
Her reasoning was solid, unfortunately it was no fault of her own that this single tradition was being ripped from her. And much too big a problem for you to ever want to try and explain to her. Besides, you can't really reason with a three year old, no matter how hard you try.
She screamed, hot tears pouring down her face. "No ice cream means you leave!"
You wondered if everyone else could hear your heart splintering, the same way they surely heard her words.
Shame boiled in your gut, guilt right next to it. A crackle of a radio behind a bush doesn't go unnoticed either, irritation creating room for itself as well.
"Look can we just have like five min-"
The rustling reveals itself, a suit clad Steve holding an all too familiar brown bag in his hand.
"Is there anyone over here who likes ice cream?" He asked, pulling his sunglasses off and holding them by the arm in this freehand.
Sarah quieted, her head turning toward him with the saddest sniffle.
She clocked the bag in his hand immediately, her lip puckering out, cheeks still wet with tears. Suddenly shy, she buried her head into your shoulder.
Your heart couldn't help but melt, any frustration disappearing as she clutched onto you.
"It's okay." You whispered into her hair. Looking up at Steve with a grateful smile. You cleared your throat, cupping Sarah's face in your hands and wiping her tears as you spoke. "Y'know Sarah here loves ice cream." You answer him, nodding at her as you speak.
Steve crouched down beside you, putting himself at her eye level as he opens the bag.
"Really?" He said, pulling out a cup of ice cream and a spoon. "I was getting lunch and they accidentally gave me ice cream. I was hoping I could find someone who would eat it."
Sarah sniffled again, looking at the container conspiratorially. "What flavor?" She muttered, still refusing to meet Steve's gaze.
You had to suppress your giggle, still in fear of setting her off again.
"Chocolate." Steve answered, heaving a sigh as he played the part for her. "With rainbow sprinkles."
Her eyebrows shot up, head snapping toward you with excitement.
"Think you could help me?" Steve held the cup and spoon out to her.
Sarah waited until you gave her a reassuring nod before taking it from his hands. "Thank you." She beamed, smiling so bright no one would never think she was the same child who was screeching like a banshee just minuted before.
The memory does something weird to your heart, squeezing around it like a hand.
"It was nothing." Steve answers over the line, voice sounding tight.
"No," you argue, ignoring his dismissal. "You stopped a category three tantrum, thank you."
You can almost hear his sigh from here, the resigned way huff he gives whenever you manage to catch him. "Anytime."
"It's hard you know?" You can't seem to stop the words from tumbling out. "I'm trying so hard with her, to give her some kind of normal childhood."
"Why?"
It's not the answer you expected.
"I'm sorry?"
"No I mean, why are you worried about her having a normal childhood? Look at your life, at your sheer number of TV channels, her childhood will never be normal." The words sink in your gut like a stone, painfully true. "That doesn't make it bad."
It hits you differently, no one has ever put it like that. You're used to questions, rude jabs about prioritizing your career over her. Expectations that you should give it all up to be home. Borderline horror when you reveal her father has no part in her life.
"Thanks." You whisper, the word feeling entirely too small for the feeling in your chest. "No one else really thinks of it like that."
"Well," Steve starts, and you can hear him move as he speaks, the rustling of the couch as he shifts. "I know I've only been around a few weeks, but all I see is a little girl with a Mom who would do anything for her. That's all any of us can ask for."
There's a weight to his voice, like he knows more about the subject that he's saying. More than you have any right to ask about. So you find a different question instead.
"Why'd you take this job Steve?"
There's no accusation behind it, just genuine curiosity.
"Would you believe me if I said it's because I like your music?"
That elicits a big laugh from you, a chuckle from your toes.
"No." You manage to say between breaths, smiling so wide your cheeks hurt.
Steve chuckles on the other end too, the sound sending a tingle up the arm holding the walkie.
"Maybe I'm just a glutton for punishment."
You let silence fill the radio once again. your eyelids getting heavier as you listen to the sound of Steve's breathing on the other end.
"You should go to sleep." Steve crackles after a few minutes.
A yawn comes and you don't have the energy to fight it, nodding even though he can't see you.
"Probably." You agree, even though part of you wishes you wouldn't, holding the radio just a little tighter as you whisper, "Good night Steve."
"Good night Robin."
For the first time you don't bristle at the nickname.
The rest of your routine happens slowly, movements lingering with exhaustion. The walkie gets placed back on your dresser, makeup scrubbed from your lashes and lights dimmed. Just as you're ready to get back into bed something catches your eye from the window.
Lights are still shining through the windows of pool house, made brighter by the darkness in your room.
You can see Steve's silhouette, his outline sitting on the couch cast in the glow of the TV.
You're already thinking about grabbing the walkie again, trying to think up a smart ass comment about practicing what you preach when you notice what he's watching.
It's your face on the screen, a close up of your lashes and cheeks as the camera slowly pans down your face and over your collarbones, just low enough that it's obvious you're not wearing anything.
You know that video. Filmed three years ago for a single you did on a movie soundtrack. One of those sexy dramas with the conflict and miscommunication and a kiss in the rain. Naturally your video had to match that vibe.
The angle shifts, showing you lying on your stomach with your back exposed. A blanket thrown over your bottom half, made to look like it's freshly mussed. In reality the prop designer had spent five minutes arranging it, pins to keeping it in place for that perfect 'post-sex' look as she called it.
Your gaze flickers back to Steve, his hunched position coming clear. Elbows on his knees as he leans forward toward the TV.
You have a dozen questions, and a dozen follow-up questions for them. He looks so intense, not like he's watching the video, but like he's studying you.
The moment freezes, your feet stuck to the floor as you stare. The video plays in it's entirety, vignettes of your singing intercut with scenes of pillow talk and legs tangled together beneath sheets.
It ends without ceremony, Steve's position unchanged.
He's holding the remote, you wait for him to shut the TV off but it never comes.
Instead you watch the screen bounce, before another video begins to play. This one older, from your debut album. A little dress and the picture of innocence, back when your team was trying to pitch you as America's next sweetheart.
Steve stays enraptured, eyes fixed on the screen.
Somehow you pull yourself away, tucking yourself under the covers with more questions about your body guard than ever before.
Even more wide awake than when you started.
New York comes fast.
A blur of days, a short flight and your mic is being pressed into your hand backstage.
"Try and stay back from the edge." Steve mutters, arms crossed and eyes narrowing like the disapproving father he seems to think he has any right to act like. "No contact, there's no barrier between you and the fans so you need to be careful."
You scoff, heels clicking as you walk ahead of him toward the stage.
"You realize the whole point of playing smaller venues is to getting close to the fans right?" You counter. You press your headset into your ear, shaking it back and forth a few times to make sure it's secure.
"Really?" Steve deadpans, "I thought it was to make my job harder."
Your laugh is genuine, delight at the genuine hint of misery in his voice. "That's just a fun bonus."
You're feet away from the lights, the crowd only getting louder as your band starts to enter ahead of you.
A hand wraps around your wrist, stopping you from stepping out.
Your head snaps back toward Steve, armed with a glare and a curse already half off your tongue.
"I'm serious." He insists. "You're completely unprotected up there. I need you to be careful."
You rip your wrist out of his grip, making a show of rubbing where he'd grabbed you. "These are my fans." You remind him. "If I'm not safe with them than what's the point."
You step out of the curtain before he can say anything else.
The crowd erupts, their screams almost deafening. The lights are hot on your skin, like sunlight on a July afternoon. The bass thumbs beneath your feet, grounding you to the stage. Nearly a hundred fans are packed along the edge of the stage, their smiles so bright they nearly outdo the lights.
They're all reaching out, arms stretched up in your direction as your name rolls off their tongues.
It all disappears.
The echo of Steve's voice vanishes by the time you lift the mic to your lips.
The fatigue of the plan ride is a memory by the third song.
The threats are long forgotten after the fifth.
So is Steve's warning.
You drift toward the edge, running your hand along the crowd and smiling at each fan you pass. Their joy is contagious, excitement bubbling into your own veins like an IV drip.
Your band takes over for the bridge, a long instrumental. Usually you take it for a water break, a change to rest your throat, fix your hair, on really rough nights it's your only chance to pee.
Your ego would never let it be that simple though. Not after the way he talked to you. The way he looked at you. Like a child, like a brat. No. It burns in your throat, resentment rising like bile.
You're fine, you're safe as safe can be.
You pass your mic to your bassist, not bothering to answer her questioning look. Instead you take one last look at the adoring crowd, and jump.
Dozens of hands catch you, supporting your weight in an instant. Not an ounce of hesitation amongst them, all of you caught in a mutual high of the music. Your music.
They start to pass you around, a slow travel across the floor as you laugh above them. It's incredible, like absolutely no other feeling in the world. Nothing you can even try to compare it too. No amount of drinking, or drugs or even sex can capture it. It's pure unfiltered adoration.
Bang!
The moment turns sour faster than you can process it.
A gunshot echoes loud above the music and cheers, bouncing off the venue walls.
In an instant you're on the ground, screams surrounding you like a hellish cacophony. There's movement on every side of you, people trying to scatter and getting nowhere with how tightly they're packed in. The confusion, the fear. It all soaks into your skin like moisturizer, guilt the most potent of all.
You try and stand and fail, no where to put your hands to stand up, nothing to grab for purchase. You're distantly aware of an ache in your back, what will surely be a bruise from how you landed.
Panic starts to climb up your throat, white hot and unmistakable. No one even seems to notice you, too consumed to remember you're still down there.
Your vision starts to go blurry, dark spots dancing at the edges as your breathing picks up.
Then it's all gone.
The floor disappears below you, the crowd parts on either side.
There's arms around you, lifting you with one below your knees and the other behind your back. One swift move and suddenly your cradled against a familiar chest.
Steve.
Your relief overwhelms you.
It's clarity, crystal clear and healing. Like when you're driving in the pouring rain and then go under an overpass, everything stops.
"I got you." Murmured into your ear, voice rumbling against your shoulder as he speaks.
Then the crowd roars back in, screaming and running in panic.
You can't help but shrink, curling your head into Steve's chest and wrapping your arms tight around him. Your eyes squeeze shut, panicked tears stuck to your lash line. Your hands form claws in his jacket, tucked in his collar and tangled in his lapel.
There's nothing over the blood rushing in your ears. You can feel yourself being jostled, Steve's steady grip unfaltering.
Then there's a dip, the slam of a door until finally quiet.
The smell of leather finds you first, then the cool breeze of air conditioning.
"It's okay." Steve murmurs above you, his hand running in a soothing line down your back. "We're in the car. You're safe."
It takes your body a minute to process his words, every muscle taut. Slowly your head lifts, eyes blinking open to confirm his words.
Sure enough, you're in the back of the van, half on the familiar seats and half in Steve's lap. The driver's partition in pulled up, but you can feel the engine beneath you, already moving.
You're still not sure how to breathe, lungs only taking shallow pulls as you de-tangle yourself, shifting into your own seat before finally letting go. It feels like glass in your throat, muscles raw from screams you didn't even feel yourself let out.
There's pain in your ankle, you must have twisted it when you fell. It's only when you reach down to undo the strap of your heel that you realize your hands are shaking.
"Let me." Steve says, voice softer than you thought he knew how to be. He takes your foot in his hand, carefully freeing you from the shoe before repeating the same thing with the other one.
It's quiet between you for a minute, only the hum of the engine and muffled traffic around you.
When you speak it hurts, voice hoarse and unfamiliar. "What happened?"
Steve freezes, hand hovering over your ankle. He pulls back slowly, letting you shift your feet back to the floor. He pulls the wire from his ear, letting it hang limp over his collar.
"I don't know." He says, not meeting your eyes. "They must have camped out or hidden the it inside the venue-" he cuts himself off with a sigh, heavy and tortured as he drags a hand over his face.
"Was anyone hurt?" You follow up.
Steve shakes his head, "no." He says. "At least not that we know of, I asked the rest of the team to stay back and help with crowd control. they'll make sure everyone's okay. I think it was just an attempt to cause panic, get you vulnerable."
The tears finally spill, eyes burning as they rolls down your cheeks. "Shit." You whisper, not bothering to wipe them away. It's a fucking nightmare, one you never thought would come for you.
Steve leans forward, bracing his elbows on his knees and raking his hands through his hair.
"I'm sorry." He murmurs, voice nothing short of defeated. "I should have been thorough, I don't know how I missed this."
You shake your head, swallowing around the knot in your throat. "No, Steve this isn't your fault." You try your best to sound firm, but your voice shakes anyway.
He finally looks at you, blue eyes glassy and full of anger.
"My job is to protect you." His voice is deadly serious as he says it, like a man who swore an oath. "I didn't do that tonight."
You want to argue, insist he couldn't have been more thorough, that they'd have to invent a new word for it if he wads. His look leaves you no room for it though, expression turning to stone. You wonder if he ever cracks under his own pressure.
You want to apologize and take back every bitter word you said before the show, but the words turn to dust on your tongue.
"How far are we from the airport?" Ends up being what comes out.
Steve shifts uncomfortably in his seat, pulling at the knot of his tie until it loosens.
"We're not going back to the airport."
"I'm sorry?"
Steve clears his throat, Adam's apple bobbing. "I cancelled the flight. I think it's better if we lay low for a few days."
"And I can't do that in L.A.?" You ask, but despite the question it lacks all your usual bite.
"Not safely." Steve answers. He's lacking bite too, no self-righteous or condescending undertone. "I have a cabin, its remote, private. Would give you a few days to recoup while we figure out how this happened."
"Private except for the six security guards right?" You don't mean to be petulant, but right now all you want is your house, with your bed and your daughter- "What about Sarah?"
"I already had word sent for her and your mom, they're on their way to a private rental outside the city."
"She's not coming?" Your voice breaks on the last word, realization hitting you like a gut punch.
"No. She's safer there, the rest of the team is going to be with them."
"She's safer away from me is what you mean." The tears start again, wet and hot as you sink as far into the leather as you can.
"It's just for a few days." Steve promises, "until they find who did this."
You nod even though you hate it. Even though it feels like your entire chest is going to cave in. Even though every cell in your body screams that it's wrong, you know he's right.
"Who's coming with us?"
Steve runs his palms over his thighs, as if wiping them off. You watch him glance at you, a quiet buzz of nerves under his skin as he answers.
"No one."
Your shock must be obvious.
"I thought you might want a few days away from the circus." He pulls his radio out of his pocket as he says it, flicking it off as he continues. "It's completely off the grid, no one will know where we are."
It sends a shiver up your spine, alone. You haven't been alone in God knows how long.
Then another thought creeps in, just as you cast a sideways glance to the man beside you.
You've never been alone with Steve.
"You still trust me right?" He asks, despite the smile he forces you know he's only have joking.
"Of course." You promise. Despite whatever fault he thinks he bears, that was never in doubt.
"Then relax." He nods. "We have a few hours before we get there, why don't you try and close your eyes."
You hum in agreement, and even with all the adrenaline, you feel your eyelids getting heavy.
Steve mutters something else, a few short words just barely audible. "I got you."
"This place is like one of those cheesy TV movies." You muse, taking in the wood paneling and cracked leather booths. All of it's probably older than you are, but every inch reeks with love.
Steve laughs, good humored and surprisingly deep. "Yeah it kinda is." He agrees, waving to the waitress behind the bar as he follows you to a booth. "Everyone knows everyone."
Turns out when Steve said private, he meant it. Tucked in the corner of upstate New York is a little town on a little lake with one little bar.
Steve was actually the one who suggested you go out.
"They're all good people, discreet." He promises, nodding around the room to where no one had taken note of your presence. "No one will say anything or take photos. I promise."
You look around for yourself, the friends packed into one too small booth. The couple at the bar eating off one plate. The handful of guys around the pool table in the far corner. Not one spares you a glance.
"Thanks." You tell him, truly meaning it. "How'd you find this place anyway?"
Steve hums, waving to one of the servers for menus. "My parents brought me up here a lot as a kid." He shrugs, "We couldn't afford much but we'd sneak away at least once a summer for a few days. I got hurt on the job a few years ago and needed to take some time off. So I came here and bought the place we used to rent. Fixed it up instead of going to physical therapy."
A young man walks over with two menus, smile a little too sunny even for what might as well be the set of Cheers.
"How are you folks doing tonight?" He asks, "can I get you started with something to drink?"
"I'll have whatever is on draft and a water." Steve says, looking up from his menu to give the kid a half-smile.
"Same." You say, opening the menu to flip through it. It's your normal fare, greasy bar food and thick burgers. Your stomach growls just reading the names, you can't remember the last time you actually sat down and ate at a place like this.
The kid smiles, then disappears back behind the bar.
You feel Steve's eyes on you, and when you look up sure enough there he is, not even bothering to hide it.
"What?" You laugh, almost startled by the in his gaze.
Steve just shakes his head, "Didn't peg you for a beer drinker."
You shrug, "I contain multitudes."
Steve hums, turning his attention to the menu.
"I didn't know you owned something other than suits." You tease back.
"I contain multitudes." He parrots, a grin breaking on his lips. "Besides, I'm not your bodyguard right now."
You smile and try to hide it behind the menu. Even though you know it's not true, there's still a thrill that runs through you. You can't help but sink into the fantasy of a pretend world where your name isn't in the jukebox, and Steve's not being paid to sit across the table from you. An alternate universe where you're just a woman and a man together in a shitty dive bar.
"Ah yes, you're-" you make a show of dragging your eyes over his flannel, "-a lumberjack?"
Your drinks arrive, placed on the table without ceremony. You both order.
Steve smiles, a real one. He doesn't fight it the way he normally does, cheeks dusting themselves pink under your gaze. As he takes a sip realization hits you right between the ribs.
He's relaxed.
For the first time since you've met him, his shoulders aren't up to his ears. There's no underlying tension, no quick scans of the room. If it weren't for the fact that he's sitting facing the door, you'd think he'd forgotten his training all together.
There's something about him like this. It turns over in your stomach, builds a warmth in the base of your gut.
You like it.
The easy demeanor, the way his lips curl around a smile. The section of chest hair peeking out above between the undone buttons at the top of his shirt. It's intimate, domestic, and soft. Three things you didn't think Steve Rogers even knew of, let alone knew how to be.
How rare must it be to see this side of him? How few people probably have.
The knowledge that you're one of them makes the green eyed monster in your chest purr with delight. Possessive of his loose-limbed movements and relaxed posture.
"The flannel look suits you too." Steve nods at your shirt, well his shirt. With nothing packed you've spent the last two days borrowing things from Steve's closet. Rewashing a random pair of pants you'd been lucky enough to have in your bag at the concert.
It swims on you, the shoulders drooping down your arms and the cuffs rolled nearly three times to free your hands.
"I have a confession." You whisper, "I had no idea they were this comfortable."
Steve grins, giving you one more appreciative look.
You falter under his gaze, it's usual intensity paired with something else that makes you squirm. Makes you nervous enough to keep trying to fill the silence.
"Don't get me started on the pockets, I mean seriously I might start performing in these."
"Would have to change your stage name to Lumber Jane."
You fake a shudder, "maybe not."
You take a sip, letting the taste sit on your tongue as you wait for him to speak.
"How are you holding up?" Steve asks, voice dropping.
You take your time answering, swallowing a deep breath. "I'm okay." You tell him, "I think I am at least."
Steve nods, "Another few days and we should be able to head home, the house has been quiet and no new letters."
Your heart stutters at the mention of the letters they way they didn't use to. Since the show your fear has multiplied, stacked on top of itself and laid underneath your stream of consciousness. A constant knot in your stomach.
"Think I can call Sarah tonight?" You ask.
Phone calls have been off limits, every precaution taken. Besides, she's three and absolutely in love with her grandmother, you might as well not even exist when they're together.
"Yeah of course." Steve says without thinking.
Any further conversation stopped by the appearance of a couple at the end of your booth. The same one you'd seen at the bar, both easily twenty-years your senior.
"Stevie!" The woman squeals, squeezing her husbands arm with her excitement. "Oh Sweetheart it is so good to see you!"
Steve flushes, bright red painting his cheeks as he watches the nickname hit you.
Stevie? You mouth at him, delight tangible.
"Been too long kid." The man says, his voice as gruff as his beard and calloused hands would suggest.
"I know." Steve surrenders, "How have you guys been?"
The woman shakes her head, dismissing his question with a wave of her hand. "Oh who cares about us? Who is this lovely lady?" She gestures to you, her face beaming with joy.
You panic, mind going utterly blank, but it's okay. She immediately jumps into introducing herself instead, "I'm Dottie and this is my husband James, we're Stevie's neighbors."
Your heart jumps at the nickname again, curling around it with possession and a plan to certainly use it against him.
"So nice to meet you." You smile, voice dripping with a genuine fondness.
"We're just in town for a few days." Steve explains.
The woman coos, clapping her hands in delight, "A romantic getaway huh?"
Steve balks again.
"Oh leave the poor kid alone Dot." Her husband reels her in, flashing you both an apologetic grin. "It good to see ya Steve."
Your poor, poor bodyguard just nods.
Dottie's not done though, "You better call next time, I want to have you both over for dinner!" She turns to you with a wink. "Stevie's never brought a girl here before, oh my heart is so happy!"
You watch Steve somehow turn even redder across the table, the mountain of a man reduced to a small hill of embarrassment.
The radio catches you attention, a slow song beginning to hum through the speakers. "I'm so sorry Dottie," You start,already scooting out of the booth, "But I have to steal Stevie, this is my favorite song and he promised me a dance."
Understanding crosses over her face, as if the situation has much more gravity than it actuality. "Oh of course, don't let us keep you!" She all but shoos Steve out of his seat.
Steve shoots you a look something between grateful and mortified, but goes along with it, walking you over to a small clearing by the pool table.
His arms come around you like it's the most natural thing in the world. They feel just as safe as they did in New York, wrapping around your waist and pulling you into his chest.
"Thank you." He mutters.
You hum, lifting your arms up over his shoulders and knotting your hands behind his neck. "Nice to be the one saving you for a change," you joke, "Stevie."
Steve groans into your hairline, his chest vibrating against yours. "You're never gonna let me live that one down are you?"
"Nope." You whisper, popping the 'p'.
The rhythm comes easier than it has any right too, your bodies swaying in time with music. Steve's warm against you, his broad shoulders firm and unmoving under your touch.
It feels natural, instinctual. Like touching him is something your body already knows.
Steve's eye lock with yours and the room shrinks.
You should move, back away, create some distance and yet you can't.
And neither does he.
You're caught in each other's orbit, close without any excuse. No shots fired, no ice cream peace offering. Just a man and a woman in a shitty dive bar.
You're not sure which of you leans in first, your weight pushes up onto your toes and Steve's neck dips. Just an inch away, you can feel him exhale over your lips.
"Uh excuse ma'am- sir." You're interrupted by some familiar bumbling. "I just wanted to let you know your food is here." Your waiter says, completely oblivious to what he was interrupting.
What was he interrupting?
Steve clears his throat, detaching himself from you with an awkward step back.
"Thanks." He says, looking back to you with a stilted smile. It's almost visible the way his guard retracts, mask pulling back over his expression. "Let's eat."
The sound of glass shattering is what wakes you.
Loud enough to have you sitting upright in your bed, heart already racing as if your body knew to panic before your mind.
The clock on the end table blinks some absurd time, nearly four A.M.
And apparently you have a visitor.
You should stay put, you know that. It's what Steve would say, he actually had said it when you first pulled into the driveway.
"If anything happens. Do not leave your room."
Your hands grip your sheets, fear spreading through to your very last nerve.
Everything is downstairs, your phone, your pepper spray, your pager for Steve.
Steve.
He has to be awake, right? That man could be dead asleep and he'd feel a feather land on the roof. No way he missed that.
Yet you don't hear anything, no sound from the walkway outside. No footsteps, no radio crackle as he calls for backup. No way to know where he is, whether or not he's even okay.
A bone chilling thought rocks through you.
What if they got to him first?
The floor boards creak outside your door, an uneven distribution of weight. It's paired with heavy footsteps careless stomps.
Definitely not Steve.
Your vision spins, fear capturing every one of your nerves.
You press yourself against the door, desperately listening for any sign of your protector.
None come.
The footsteps continue, twice past your door. They know you're here.
Your heart is in your throat, your door is locked but wouldn't that just tell them it's where you are? The house is old, the door frame surely would crumble with enough force. Then what can you do?
You need a distraction. You need to get out.
Stalling your nerves, you make a plan.
In the corner furthest from the door sits a desk, littered with papers and dust covered books.
There's a closet on the far side across from it, just a few feet from the door. It's easy practically empty, just enough space for you to slide into its shadow.
Grabbing the heaviest boom you can find, you make tracks. Unlocking the door you count your breath and snap into action.
The book slams into the floor with a loud thump, covering your footsteps as you run to the closet.
The foot steps stop in the hallway stop, stalling for a moment before they come right where you want them.
Your hand closes around the closet door knob, holding it shut against you as you watch out the slats.
Whoever it is, is big.
A hulking figure dressed in all black, just as tall and broad as Steve. A ski mask obscures their face, nothing to give a hint as to who it is. They stand in the door way for a moment, illuminated by only the moonlight coming through the windows.
There's still no sign of Steve, no noise or second shadow appearing in the hall.
You can't over power him, one look at him and that much is clear. he could crush your window pipe between two fingers.
You could however, outrun him.
You wait until he walks further into the room, slow steps toward the fallen book. It looks half-hazard, like it fell off the bed and open on the floor. Just conspicuous enough to draw him in closer.
He bends over, leaning to pick it up and that's when you make your move.
Quiet as you can, you slide out of the closet and tip-toe the few steps into the hall.
Then you bolt.
As fast as your legs will carry you, you run down the stairs toward the front door. Your heart is hammering in your ears, blooding rushing as your adrenaline fuels you.
You're so close, only a few feet away.
They're right on top of you though, heavy boots hitting the floor so hard it nearly rattles.
You're so close, hand wrapping around the handle when- it's locked.
Panic creeps back up, hands fumbling with the door knob as you desperately try to get it open before-
A hand grabs you. Covered in a leather glove it spins you around with one harsh tug, throwing your back into the door.
"Ah!" You cry out from the force, body screaming in protest from the movement.
They crowd you in, hand wrapping around your throat and pressing on your windpipe.
Their face is covered, the only thing visible through a ski mask is their eyes. You lock on them, desperately trying to plead for mercy. Your legs thrash, kicking at their stomach as they lift you up higher on the door, until your toes can't touch the ground.
Grabbing at his forearms you dig your nails into his skin, fighting desperately for any purchase as the grip on your throat tightens. You can hear yourself trying to talk, pleas gasped from your lips.
Your vision starts to dot, black dancing around it and pulling at the edges. It draws heavy on your eyelids, turning the rest of your body to lead.
Then it's gone, the weight, the pressure, the hand.
You hit the floor and crumble, legs giving out as you gasp for air.
Your vision is still blurry, the entire scene out of focus. All you can see is shadows, the outlines of two figures fighting. The sound of punches flying, flesh smacking flesh. Dull thumps that echo through your brain as you try to process what's happening.
Only one coherent thought wins, Steve.
Words don't come either, try as you might nothing comes out. Just garbled gasps as your throat tries to recover.
One loud thump ends the noise, powerful and reverberating. One of the figures falls to the ground, collapsing under their own weight.
You blink, once, twice, desperate to know which one it is.
The winner climbs over top, straddling the fallen ones chest and continuing his assault. Hit after hit even as they lay their unconscious.
That's when lights appear, red and blue shining through the window and illuminating the pair.
Steve on top, your assailant bloody beneath him.
"Steve." You gasp, it's airy, hardly audible, but dripping in relief.
His eyes snap to yours, pupils blown and wild. There's almost no blue left, just a thick sheen of anger.
He's at your side in second, face softening back in your Steve. He scoops you up, the same way he did in New York and this time he holds you even tighter. You wonder if this how Lois Lane feels when Superman shows up.
He carries you outside without sparing the man on the floor another glance, eyes staring straight ahead as he carries you toward the paramedics.
"He's inside." He grunts, adjusting his hold on you.
The cops say something in response but you don't catch it, the entire world still hazy around you.
Steve refuses to leave your side, unmoving even after he sets you down on the edge of the ambulance and the paramedics begin to exam you. He stands there like a gargoyle, face set in stone with a gaze just an intense.
You try your best to ignore him, answer the everyone else's questions as they fire them off. But every time you can, your gaze shifts back to him, on edge when you spend too long outside of it.
His blue eyes drape over you like a blanket, a soothing layer of protection. Without thinking your hand reaches out, stretching off your lap and toward him.
Steve steps forward without hesitation, taking it in his own and giving you it a firm squeeze.
He nods, as if affirming the one thing you've been afraid to think for fear of jinxing it.
It's over.
You spend the rest of the night like that, your hand locked with Steve as you give multiple statements, even as the sun begins to rise and even after your stalker has long been hauled away in the back of a cab.
"We really would like to take you to the hospital." One of the medics repeats, "get a proper workup done."
You shake your head for the umpteenth time, giving them the best smile you can muster.
"I really just want to go to sleep, I'll be okay."
Steve nods, helping you stand up from the foot of the rig. "I promise I'll keep an eye on her."
The medic nods, giving you both a thin smile, "I have no doubt."
Then they pack up and disappear down the road too, you and Steve standing outside and watching them drive away until they're no bigger than a quarter.
When you turn to look at Steve he's already staring at you, an expression you've never seen before in his gaze. Something like fear, like he's afraid you'll disappear if he looks away.
There's something else though, something more unhinged, what ever it was that kept him hovering at your side, ready to jump like a guard dog.
He nods back toward the house, "C'mon," his warm hand still around yours. "Let's try and get some sleep."
You follow him inside, past the entryway and scene of the massacre. Back up the stairs and beyond the door of your guest room.
"You can sleep in my room." Steve says, guiding you toward the door at the end of the hallway. "I'll take the floor."
You're thankful for his offer, for the way he already knows you won't be able to sleep alone after that. You have no idea if you ever will, you'll probably be climbing into Sarah's bed for the rest of your life.
Sarah. Relief cascades over you, washing you like a tsunami. You don't know what you would have done if she was here, you don't know how to thank Steve for making sure she wasn't. You can't even begin to imagine what that man would have done if she was.
That's when the tears finally come, just as you step over the threshold into Steve's bedroom.
White hot, they leave scalping lines down your cheeks. A broken sob leaves your lips and Steve whips around to face you.
"Hey," he whispers, bringing his hands up to cup your face, "hey, hey, hey." Your hands shoot up to hold his wrists, keeping him in place as you nuzzle into the warmth of his palm. "You're okay."
You sob again, struggling around everything you want to say.
"I'm sorry." You gasp, "I'm so so sorry,"
Your entire body is shaking it with, the weight of the entire night landing all at once. The adrenaline rush finally quits, leaving nothing behind but an utterly destroyed host.
"Oh Sweetheart." Steve breathes, pressing his forehead into yours. His voice is wet, you wonder if you opened your eyes would you see him holding back tears. "This is not your fault."
You shake your head, a gurgle passing your lips as you try to catch your breath and speak at the same time. "It is!" You cry, "I should never have left my room and now you-" Your hand comes up to his face thumb swiping over where a bruise is already blossoming on his cheekbone. "I should have just listened."
"Stop it." Steve's voice is firm, his hands holding you steady until you meet his eyes. "You did good, okay? You hear me?"
You nod, even if you only half believe him.
Steve must sense it, because he continues anyway. "You were trapped, he was going to get in that room one way or another. You needed to get out and that was what you did, and you did it beautifully. I am so proud of you." His nose nudges against yours, his eyes shutting as he speaks. "If any one should be sorry it's me."
Your eyes snap open, appalled that the though even crossed his mind.
"What? No Steve, how can you think that?" You try to convince him, yours squeezing his wrists with emphasis.
Steve shakes his head, forehead still pressed to yours. "It's my fault he ever got that close to you." He laments. "He should never have been able to-" he chokes on the word, spitting it out like the memory alone offends him, "-to touch you."
That look in his eyes flashes through your memories again, the one he wore while punches flew.
"Steve." You speak, voice slow and careful. Your hands move from his wrists to his face, matching his own hold on you. "You saved my life."
His eyelashes flutter open slowly, revealing every emotion he hide inside him.
He's so beautiful.
The thought hits you the way a lot of things have the past few days, completely out of left field. Yet you can't help but agree with it.
After all this is Steve, protective, overzealous, extremely qualified, devoted, Steve. Somehow when you looks at him a different title claims it's place.
Your Steve.
Your heart hammers at the closeness, pounding so loud in your ears you wonder if he can hear it.
After a night like this, when you've already been stripped bare, what else can you do but give in?
The kiss is unlike any other you've had in your life time.
It's hesitant at first, shy like all new lovers are. Your lips brush his and Steve freezes. His entire body goes rigid where it's pressed against your, and you're pretty sure he stops breathing completely.
You just rest against them for a moment, letting him feel the pressure of your mouth before you pull back.
Then there's quiet, something small blossoming in the space between you. Steve stares at you, long and hard. It's like a million emotions pass through his eyes, each one more intense than the last.
He closes the distance then. His hands stay on your face and use the leverage the kiss you with so much intensity it threatens to buckle your knees.
His body gives off so much heat, you can feel it radiating in waves as your hands roam over his shoulders, clutching his arms and his shirt and anything you can take hold of.
Anything that can ground you.
It doesn't work, every greedy grab just sends you higher into the clouds. Steve crowds you, neck craning down as he caves in around your body. His grip leaves you no place to turn, nothing you can be but pliant in his arms.
You can move your lips though, molding them to his and matching his hunger with every breath. Your teeth graze his bottom lip, your tongue following behind to soothe it.
Steve groans against your mouth, the sound pulled from the depth of his chest, uttered as if he's unconscious it even escaped.
He doesn't give an inch, doesn't even think about air until you pull on his roots, eliciting a delicious gasp.
"Steve?" You whisper.
"Yeah?" He mutters, just barely making eye contact through his blown pupils and hooded gaze.
"I want you." You promise, pushing your nose against his. "Please."
Steve's arms finally leave your face, reaching down to the back of your thighs. Without warning he grabs them in his hands and lifts.
"I'm yours." He promises, pressing another long kiss to your lips. "All yours."
Your back finds his bed, the soft mattress dipping below you as Steve lays you out. He kisses you for a while like that, with just the weight of him over you. He opens your lips with skilled precision, licking into your mouth like he's trying to consume you.
When he pulls back, he looks half-way to wrecked. Blonde hair mussed from your hands, lips swollen and kiss bitten. His cheeks are dusted pink, rosy and perfect.
Your shirt disappears, pulled over your head and exposing every inch of bare skin underneath. A tortured sound escapes from Steve's throat, something between a groan and a gasp. Your pants follow, tossed onto the floor until all that's left is the thin cotton over where you want him most.
Greedily, you pull away his layers too. Marveling at his sculpture, the way his body is carved from strength and how it reacts to your touch. The twitch of his abdomen when you splay your hand over it, fingers dancing just under the waistband of his sweatpants.
You try to slide further, hand just breaking past the elastic when Steve stops it.
He laces his fingers through yours, placing it next to your head and pulling it into the mattress. A silent instruction. Stay.
"I don't want you to perform, okay?" Steve murmurs, his lips ghosting over your neck as he speaks. "Don't think. Don't act. Just feel. I'll worry about everything else." The words are said between kisses, each one place lower than the last. Collarbone, sternum, between your breasts, just above your belly button.
"You always worry about everything else." You whisper, a half-hearted protest as you watch his descent.
Steve hums, pressing one last kiss to the waist band of your panties before hooking his fingers into the elastic. "Then you know I'm very good at it."
"You ever gonna let me worry about you?" You hum, lifting your hips for him to pull the cotton down. Your implication is obvious, a groan stirring in Steve's throat.
"Trust me." He mutters into your thigh, nosing at the juncture where it meets your cunt. "This does more for me than you even know."
Tilting your head up you can see that he isn't exaggerating. Fighting the material of his sweats sits a heavy bulge, the material doing nothing to hide what you've done to him. A thick outline, big enough to cast a shadow.
His hips roll against the mattress, hypnotizing you with the movement. It's his tongue that breaks the spell.
A hand on either thigh Steve pushes them apart, lifting one onto his shoulder and holding it there while the other is pushed up towards your hip. It leaves you completely exposed, vulnerable to his mouth.
He noses at your heat, pressing over the hood of your clit and listening for your response. Pleased with your whine, he goes further. Laving his tongue through your folds, spreading them until he can taste you from the source.
He rests it there, laid flat over your quivering entrance. He gives you no friction, no poking or exploration. He just waits, letting your flavor drip onto his tongue. He holds until your whines grow, restless and pathetic. Your heel digs in between his shoulder blades, hips canting against his mouth as you try desperately to encourage him to move.
The movement pushes his nose against your clit, bumping the underside of your nerves without any purpose. It's enough for your to chase. Another roll of you hips against his face, your hands knotting in the sheets beside your head as you try to heed his earlier instructions.
"Please-" You beg, voice wretched and airy. "Please Steve!"
He hums in approval against you, the vibrations sending tingles up your spine. His hand comes down off your thigh on his shoulder, snaking underneath to where his mouth had sat.
"All you had to do was ask." He mumbles, and you can hear that stupid, smug, sexy smirk in his voice.
His opens you up with one finger first, testing just how much you can take. You're wetter than ever, body crying out for him to do something, anything.
His middle finger joins, sliding in along side his index and it's just enough of a stretch to make your body sing.
Steve has no intention of leaving his mouth unoccupied, placing one chaste kiss at the told of your folds before closing his lips over clit.
White explodes behind your vision, the contact hot and sinful. It sends you to the moon, curving your spine with pleasure.
You babble nonsense, voice breaking around his name and interrupting every lick of praise with a moan
Steve touches you proper, like a woman. Other men, boys you've been with have always treated you like something to have, theirs to use. Like a doll meant for posing and humping, your pleasure simply a secondary matter.
Steve touches like it's his purpose. He reacts to your movements instead of pushing you into what he wants. As if he's just the artist bowing down the to the muse.
His fingers curl inside you, exploratory and confident. His tongue works over your clit in tandem with every movement. His lips move around it, his chest rumbling with happy little hums as he makes out with your cunt. His fingers graze a spot inside you, one you weren't even sure existed.
Fireworks explode on every single one of your nerves, sending you ablaze and rocketing toward the sky. Your orgasm is violent, an expression of not just pleasure but every pent up emotion you've been choking on since this whole mess started.
Steve brings you down slow, removing each sensation one by one until you finally stop shaking. Your thigh falls off of his shoulder, muscles relegated to jello. Just like his descent, Steve kisses his way back to your.
You don't hesitate to meet his lips with your own, too gone to care about the tang of your own taste or the way it smears off his chin and onto yours.
Your hands coming up to cup his face, eyes watching him with nothing short of reverence. Steve speaks before you get the chance, cutting off the compliments you'd been trying to organize.
"You're amazing." He whispers, "incredible."
You shake your head, wanting to direct it back to him. There's still an ache in your chest, the desire to thank him.
"Wanna take care of you." You slur, hand trying once more to touch him. You manage to find his bulge, somehow even more intimidating to touch than it had been to look at. "Wanna thank you."
Drool pools in your mouth as you trace him through the cotton, finding the ridge of his cock head and running your finger along the underside of it. Steve's hips buck against you, doing nothing to hide his own desire.
Nevertheless, he shakes his head. "Not tonight." He whispers. "I won't last a minute in that pretty mouth."
You frown, not caring for his reasoning.
"Need to be inside you. Feel you." He begs, hips still rolling into your palm. "Please."
You could roll your eyes, as if he even needs to ask.
Your hands pivot, moving to push down his sweats instead, hooking into the waist band of his briefs and bringing those down too.
"I'm yours." You whisper, leaning up to place a soft kiss on his lips, entirely too tender for how greedily your hands expose him. "I'm yours." For the first time you say it and you mean it. It's not for a song, or a performance, it's just for him. Your Steve.
The moment quiets as he slides inside, bare with your assurances of birth control. The little frown on your lips and plea to 'feel him' also having a lot to do with the matter. He pushes in slow, letting you adjust to his sheer size, his overwhelming thickness. He's heavy inside you, body adjusting to the weight of his cock and the stretch it forces from you.
Steve's head drops into the crook of your neck, his entire body taut as he lets you adjust. You can feel the restraint radiating off of him, from his shoulders to where he twitches inside you.
It's all too much, you need him to move.
You wiggle your hips, desperately urging him on. "Please." You whine, you don't think you've ever said those six letters so much.
He builds a pace slowly, drawing almost completely out of you before sinking back in.
"I've been thinking about this since we met." He grunts, forehead pressed tight to yours as his hips roll, driving himself further inside you. "Tried so hard not to but I can't."
You gasp, locking your ankles behind his back and using. them to pull him closer.
"Wonderin' what it would take to get you to fall apart." His lips close over your bottom one, tugging on it until you whimper. "What kind of sounds you make for me."
"Steve…" You whisper, hands searching for purchase across the expanse of his back, nails digging into his shoulder blades. Any other coherent thoughts are lost, twisted into a moan on your tongue as Steve finds that spot inside you, the one he found before that makes you writhe.
"That's it baby." He groans. "My songbird. My Robin."
You're making noises you didn't even know were possible, like he's turned you inside out and rights side out all in the same breath.
Your hands capture his face, pressing against his cheeks as you force him to meet your eyes. "My bodyguard." You whisper, "My Steve."
He groans, kissing you so hard your teeth click together. It's messy, almost painful and it's utterly perfect. Even in the heat of it he's careful of you, avoiding rough touches or any places you'd been manhandled in the attack.
It feels like another life time ago already, like your life has been split into two chapters. One before this moment and one after it.
"I know you're close." You whisper, pulling on his roots and feeling his cock jump inside you. "Give it to me, just give in."
Steve shakes his head, ever the fighter. "No," He grunts. "You almost died." He murmurs, "I almost lost you."
His voice is heavy, thick with emotion. You can see his eyes turn glossy, as if broken at the most base part of his soul.
"Need this to last." He begs.
You want to give him that, want to let him take as long as he needs, but your own orgasm is creeping over the edges of your pleasure. Slowly building until it starts to crest. An avoidable, unstoppable end.
You clench around him, pull on his hair one more time and force him to match you on the precipice.
"We have all the time in the world." You promise him. "I need you to cum in me now."
Still a soldier, Steve succumbs to your orders.
He launches you into your own orgasm, careening you both over the edge in a free fall. You grasp onto each other the whole time, desperately clinging to the other's anchor.
Steve loses himself in you, whispering praises, curses, and your name all in the same breath. You come down like a feather floating on a breeze, drifting slowly back into your body.
He collapses on top of you, rolling to the side so his weight lands on the mattress. Just his protective arm around your waist as he slides out of your cunt.
The sound of tandem breathing fills the room, leaving you both glowing in the aftermath. Tangled in mussed sheets and your mixed sweat.
Steve's breathing evens out first, his entire body melting into yours with complete abandon. You try to stay awake, to listen to him sleep and bask in the presence he's wrapped around you.
You only last a few minutes. With eyelids too heavy to ignore you fall asleep, utterly sated, overwhelmed with relief, and feeling not just protected, but something deeper.
Loved.
Morning comes with a vengeance.
Light filters through curtains so bright it nearly blinds you when your eyes finally peel open.
It takes a moment for it all to come back to you, the cabin, the break-in, the fight, then finally-
Steve's bed is the most picturesque version of a morning after.
Fluffy sheets pulled up over your chest even though you're sure you fell asleep on top of them. A glass of water with two painkillers next to it, prepared to soothe aches you are sure exist but aren't even aware of yet. Your skin feels clean, like you'd been wiped down with a washcloth in your sleep. It makes you smile, a school girl giggle escaping at the notion.
You have an entire team of people that work for you and yet this is the first time in years you feel actually cared for.
At the foot of the bed is another flannel, unbuttoned and waiting for you to slide it on.
You follow Steve's carefully laid steps. Swallow the pills. Put on the flannel. Pit stop to pee in the bathroom. Down the stairs where you can hear the rumble of his voice on the phone.
You don't have to look far, finding him in the kitchen with the phone pressed to his ear. His voice is it's usual serious. The same tone you once found so frustrating suddenly endeared. A wrong step has the floor boards creaking beneath you, enough for Steve's head to snap up and see you.
"I'll call you later." He's hanging up in the next breath, setting his phone face down.
You walk over, standing behind him and wrapping your arms around his waist and burying your face in his back.
"Morning." You hum, still glowing.
Steve is quiet, hands braced on the counter top in front of him.
You wait for his response, for him to spin around and kiss your forehead. A glimpse of the man from last night.
Except it never comes.
Steve's hands rest over yours, and gently pull them away, side stepping out of your grasp.
"Steve?" You question, half-concern and half-amusement. "What's going on?"
Steve is quiet, a dark storm raging on his face as he takes another step away from you.
"It wasn't him."
"What?" Any post-sex euphoria is abruptly halted, coming to a stop with screeching breaks like a freight train.
"The man from last night." Steve sighs, refusing to meet your eyes. "He was a hired gun, the police found messages with an anonymous buyer on his computer. They're going to interrogate him as soon as possible, but they don't have much hope for leads."
"How much?" You whisper. "How much to kill me?"
"Don't go there." Steve encourages you, dodging the question completely. "That isn't important. We need to focus on the fact that the person trying to do this is still out there."
Your stomach drops, dread and every other emotion swirling like a hurricane inside you. A lump builds in your throat, the fear you finally thought was over coming back tenfold.
"It's okay." You whisper, swallowing around it all. You reach your hand out to Steve, desperate for his grounding touch. "Because I have you."
You hardly brush his fingers when he snatches it away.
"I can't protect you like this." He whispers.
The sentence stirs panic inside you, disappointment and rage welling hand in hand.
"What?"
"I can't protect you like-" Steve finally looks up at you, face reading something tortured. "Like this." He gestures to the space between you.
"I heard you the first time." You say, struggling to keep your voice calm, to keep everything in check. "What are you trying to say Steve?"
"I've worked for presidents, politicians and diplomats. Millionaires, billionaires, any one with enough money to be scared." Steve explains, something heavy in his voice. "None of them have ever scared me the way you do."
You feel bile turn over your stomach, that sick, childish, insecure part of you rising to the surface. The girl who can't stand the sound of her own voice, who doesn't know how to trust.
Who can't believe someone might love her.
She's been proved right again.
"None of them ever made me so jumpy, so afraid of failing." Steve continues, each word like another stab. "It's like I can't think straight, every minute of everyday I'm wondering if you're safe. I can't breathe unless you're in my eye sight."
You think back to last night, the intense look in his eyes as he stared at you in the ambulance. Your mind flutters just as easy to the moments between the sheets, when tears threatened his lash line.
"So you can't be with me, because you care too much?" You clarify, unable to hide the stone in your voice. Even as you stand in his kitchen, wearing his shirt, still fucking dripping with him. "I don't understand what that has to do with being able to keep me safe?"
"It's unhealthy." He counters. "I can't work because I can't see the whole picture." He shakes his head, running a hand over his face. "I can't see anything but you."
Your anger bubbles over. "So I'll get another fucking bodyguard!" You insist. You're not sure when the tears started to fall, rolling hot down your cheeks. "Jesus Christ. Steve I care about you too!"
"We both know you won't find someone as good." He promises.
Your heart shatters, you actually feel it break apart inside your chest. The pain even more potent than last night's panic.
"So that's it?" You ask, wiping your cheeks with harsh drags of your hands. "You've decided for both of us?"
You hope he feels your anger in the words, feels your teeth in their bite.
If he does, he doesn't make it known.
"It's for the best." He says, completely calm. The picture of collected. The perfect soldier, the unmoved man. Made of marble so he doesn't have to feel. "We're flying back to LA tonight, the team is reinforcing your security system now. Everything will go back to normal."
Normal.
The word rings sour in your ears. Last night, in his arms, in his bed- was the most normal you'd felt in years.
To think that it wasn't as natural to him. It feels like a rejection of the most acute part of you. All his talk about being yourself replaced with insecurity that it must be what's driving him away.
"Fine." You agree, pulling his shirt tighter over your chest, feeling oh so exposed.
Steve hangs his head, if you didn't know better you'd think it was shame. "Thank you." He mutters.
"What time will we get in? I want to make sure my publicist has enough time to get everything ready."
His gaze snaps back up, confusion knitting itself between his brows. "What for?"
You shrug, already making your way back toward the stairs. "I have to let the Academy know I'll be there to present."
Disbelief flashes across Steve's face. "You can't be serious? I thought we agreed you weren't going?"
You nod, gathering all the strength in your body and channeling it into your voice. "We did, but since we're both making big decisions this morning. I've decided I'm going."
Steve's rage catches fire, the flames licking at you from across the room.
"You're being a child." He bites through gritted teeth. "It's not safe."
You can't help but scoff, if he wants childish you can show him childish.
"You said I was safe here and then I almost died." You remind him. "I think I'm done taking your advice."
With that you leave him downstairs, locking yourself into the guest room once more. You just barely manage pull the door shut before the tears start to fall.
Downstairs Steve is equally as stubborn, folding over the counter and burying his face in his hands. Two fools on opposite sides, no bridge in sight.
The dress is… itchy.
You didn't have many options, with the last minute-ness of your attendance your stylist nearly had a heart attack.
'I stayed up until four a.m. making phone calls, so you're gonna wear this and you're gonna look happy about it.'
Pulled from the archives of some designer, the dress is admittedly beautiful. With just some pins and a little shape wear it fits you like a glove. No one would know it had never been the plan to begin with.
Steve has been hovering all night, tuxedo-clad and perfectly pressed. Even with the formal attire he sticks out like a sore thumb, his most noticeable accessory being the glare etched on his stupid, handsome face.
Every minute passes like an hour, seconds dragging longer than possible as the clock ticks closer to your cue.
You do everything to pass the time, painfully ignoring the weight of blue eyes watching your every move. You laugh when the joke calls for it, smile for the camera when it pans to your reaction, clap even when the speeches go on too long.
Then it's time to move, a stage hand collecting you from you seat and guiding you backstage.
It always amazes you how much chaos there is behind the scenes. P.A.'s running around like headless chickens, envelopes being passed back and forth, just to be double then triple checked. The rows of golden statues waiting for triumphant hands to claim them.
You're going out alone. your own perfectly pressed envelope already in hand as you wait in the wings.
Long abandoned by your stage hand, there's nothing left for you to do but walk.
"Don't go out there."
Of course you're not completely alone.
Steve had followed you the whole way, glowering at anyone who looked suspicious. Going as far as to inspect any item that was handed to you before you even dared to touch it.
Even going as far as to try and break the seal on the envelope in your hand, only being stopped by a particularly threatening glare on your end.
Now though, the facade is gone, his voice something akin to desperate, terrified.
You turn around to face him, for the first time since the kitchen you even look into his eyes.
"Enough." You mutter, attention turning back to the stage where the lights are beginning to rise. Only a few seconds now. "I'm tired of being afraid just because you say so."
Steve's expression is grave, jaw clenched so tight you think he could break a tooth.
"I can't protect you up there." He insists, hand wrapping around your wrist. His grip is tight enough to sting, panic evident. "Please."
Your heart aches, chest pulling tight as you look at him. You could fool yourself if you tried, convince yourself that he cares.
You don't.
Instead, you pull yourself out of his grip, hard enough to make Steve stumble. Your voice is wet as you repeat yourself. "Enough."
The lights are hot, coating you in that oppressive, damn-near blinding heat. You can't hear anything over the audience, chest swelling with pride as the applause only grow in volume.
Your heels carry you forward, dress dragging behind you as you walk towards the microphone where it's waiting for you center stage.
The teleprompter waits until they die down, letting you settle into your mark on the stage before it begins to scroll.
"Alright, we've finally made it to the award everyone's been pretending they haven't been thinking about all night." A low chuckle reverberates through the crowd.
"Winning this award last year was one of the most surreal moments of my life... and now it's someone else's turn to have that moment. Here are your nominees for Album of the Year."
The lights dim, the screens behind you lighting up as a pre-recorded voice takes over, listing the artists and their work as clips play. You cast a look toward the side stage, where Steve still stands. His eyes are everywhere, scanning the entire room while his shoulders sit high on his posture.
It's the worst you've ever seen him, completely and utterly wrecked, like there's something he knows and you don't.
For a moment your heart stutters, try as you might to wear a brave face, the tension is still contagious, the memory of a hand around your throat still fresh. No matter how much concealer your makeup team applies, the bruises still mar your skin.
You shake it off, you have too. The moments almost over, too late to back out of your tantrum now.
The lights lift, attention back on you.
"And the winner is…"
The envelope sticks for just a moment, the seal tearing as your nails lift it open.
You hardly spare it a glance, giving the audience an excited smile as you open it to read. Unfolding the thick card stock in your hand and-
Familiar chicken scratch, the handwriting that's been haunting you for the better part of four months.
If I can't have you. No one can. Not even pretty boy.
Your blood runs cold. They're here.
The letter starts to shake in your hands.
They're here. They're here. They're here.
You turn to Steve, panic welling into something uncontrollable.
He's already rushing toward you, but his gaze is somewhere else.
You follow it, all the way to the back of the mezzanine.
The scope of a rifle winks at you, a red laser traveling across the theatre and dotting your chest.
They're here.
Everything unravels, the quiet dignity of the audience flailing into panic as they all rush to duck under their tables. Steve's panicked voice yelling the location of the sniper into his head set, shouting for anyone to secure them.
The ringing of the shot.
They're here.
You brace for the impact, for the pain. Closing your eyes you picture Sarah, you pray that she never sees this.
Then you're on the floor, skidding across and looking up just in time to see Steve take the blow.
It punches into him from behind, knocking him onto his knees.
A screams tears from your throat, something guttural and terrified.
You're not sure when you move, but when Steve falls you're there, pulling him back into chest as you try to push pressure on the wound.
They're a crackle through the headset in his ear, just loud enough for you to hear.
Target secured, weapon is disarmed.
You can't even feel the relief, even as a soft smile breaks onto Steve's face.
There's so much blood.
It floods past your fingers, soaking into your dress and already beginning to pool on the floor. It hit him in the shoulder, right where it meets his chest.
He's lax in your arms, looking up at you like he can't feel the pain at all.
"Steve?" You cup his face with bloody hand, smearing it on his cheek. "Steve can you hear me?"
He covers your hand with own, turning his head to press a kiss into your palm. His voice comes out rough, garbled and dream-like. "You're okay." He says it like it's the only thing that matters, like he's not bleeding out in your arms. "You're okay."
A sob breaks from your throat. "You're not!" You yell back, panic taking over as you look around, only to find an empty stage around you.
"Someone help!" You scream, "Please he needs help!"
Steve shushes you, the sound getting trapped in a cough. Even with your pressure on the wound the puddle around you grows, turning it all into a macabre nightmare.
"Please!" You're still shouting, trying in vain to stop the bleeding. "Please he's my bodyguard!" Your voice cracks on the last word, knowing it's not enough to capture what he actually is.
Steve's hand reaches up to your cheek, pulling your attention back to him.
"My Robin." He whispers, eyes gone glossy and unfocused. "I love you."
The words tear you open, pulling another sob from your lips. "You idiot." You curse. "I love you too."
What fools you both have been.
You press a harsh kiss to his lips, trying to say everything in it. Begging him to hold on. Steve returns it with softness, like he has all the time in the world.
Help finally comes, footsteps surrounding you.
Steve smiles, the same unprotected one you saw at the cabin, his guard finally down. He watches you until you're pulled away, taking two guards to get you off as medics take your place.
The threat it gone, this time, it's finally over.
Now all you can do it wait, and hope that Steve is stubborn enough to pull through.
"Mommy!" Sarah's voice echoes through the plane, yelling despite the small space. "Mommy! Mommy! Mommy!"
She comes barreling down the aisle, bouncing with excitement as she as she rushes to stand in front of you.
Her face is painted with a smile ten miles wide as she holds out the source of her enthusiasm for you to see.
"A new coloring book?" You ask her, amping up your own mock-excitement.
"Ice cream!" She squeals, opening the pages for you to see.
"Wow!" You whisper, pretending to lean in for a better look. "Where did you get this?"
She points toward the back of the plane. "Stevie!"
Sure enough, Steve comes walking down the aisle just as she says it, giving you a smile and a small shrug as he takes the seat across from you.
He's been discharged for almost two weeks now, still a little peaked around the edges for your liking, but he's okay. Your heart still seizes a little every time you look at him, the sling on his arm a reminder of just how close you came to losing him.
After nearly a month in the hospital, Steve as eager to get out of L.A. as you.
"Thought she'd need something to do at the cabin." He explains, "I have six more in my bag."
The decision to go back to New York was easy, the peace and seclusion of the cabin all too appealing after the press-frenzy following the Grammy's. Eventually you'll have to fly back for the trial, but for now you'll get as far as you can.
Steve's already offered to convert the attic to a recording studio, you half-think he'd keep you there forever if he'd let you.
You might.
"Six?" You repeat, laughing in disbelief. The mental image of him picking them out for her filling your stomach with warmth. "You're gonna spoil her."
He fixes you with a look, "I think that ship is long sailed."
Sarah clambers into his lap, leaning her back against his chest as he settles. His arm wraps loose around her waist, acting as a seatbelt.
"Besides, I like taking care of my girls."
Pride beams in his words, a protectiveness in his voice that wraps around you like a warm blanket.
"That includes the new guy?" You nod your head to the side, toward where your new bodyguard sits in the back of the plane.
Sam is nice enough, not nearly as uptight as Steve which is a very, very nice change of pace.
He was picked by Steve himself, an old friend from his days in the service.
Steve nods, giving you a light hearted chuckle.
"Well I can't protect you like this." He lifts his sling, except there's a joke in his voice that wasn't there before. "Besides," he bounces his knee, making Sarah giggle in his lap. "Got my hands full with this one."
"Your girls huh?" You relax back into your seat, unable to take your eyes off the scene in front of you. "I think I like that."
The pilots comes over the loudspeaker, letting announcing that you'll be taking off in just a few minutes.
Steve hums, "Me too."
"How long?" Sarah perks up, turning her head to ask Steve the question. She's already well adapted to owning his heart, the transition of his role from bodyguard to something more hardly an adjustment.
"Five hours." He tells her, pressing a kiss to her four head. "Five hours until home."
"Five hours until home." You repeat.
Your entire world in one place, only yours to have. There's no better feeling.
Summary: Crushing on his assistant isn’t wrong so long as he can keep it together. Unfortunately, Steve can’t seem to.
Pairing/WC/Tags: professor!Steve x assistant!reader / 939 / college professor au, post civil war, Steve is a flustered sweetheart, shameless flirting
A/N: for day 10 of AU-gust @thepromptfoundry ‘professors and academia’ inspired by this fic definitely check it out
Steve isn’t sure what he should think as he steps into his office. The coffee in his hand is steaming, and he’s sure if he was a regular man it would be burning his palm but he can’t help that he’s distracted.
You’re wearing a short, white sundress, and are leaning over his desk, searching through the piles of paperwork scattered across it. The lace of your cotton underwear peaks out from below the far too short hem, and his mind short circuits.
His first thought is that he should say something, and his second thought is that he should stop looking.
Neither happens.
You’re his assistant, and you’re supposed to be off-limits. You’re smart, kind, endlessly patient with him, and somehow you’ve managed to make even the most exhausting days feel lighter.
And right now, you’re standing in his office looking far too distracting for someone who is supposed to be helping him organize his files. He can’t help but let his eyes linger a little longer before he clears his throat.
“What are you doing?” His voice comes out rougher than he intends.
You immediately straighten, turning around with a startled expression.
“Sorry, Professor Rogers. I’m looking for those missing mission reports from last week. I thought maybe they ended up on your desk again.”
He looks around at the mountain of papers surrounding him.
It’s entirely possible. His desk has always been a disaster. He can organize a team, lead a mission, and make impossible decisions under pressure, but somehow paperwork always gets the better of him.
“You know you can call me Steve,” he reminds you.
He immediately regrets saying it, because he likes hearing his name from you.
A smile spreads across your face. “Right. Steve.”
The way you say it makes something in his chest tighten. He looks away, pretending to focus on the papers.
“Alright. Let’s find these reports. I’m sure they’re buried somewhere in here.”
You laugh softly and move beside him, helping sort through the mess.
For a while, the two of you work in comfortable silence. Steve tries not to notice how close you are, or the scent of your floral perfume. He fails miserably.
“You know,” you tease, handing him a folder, “I don’t know what you’d do without me.”
He looks at the folder, then at you. A small smile pulls at his mouth.
“I’d probably lose half my paperwork and spend another three hours searching for something that’s been right in front of me.”
You grin. “Exactly.”
Steve shakes his head, fighting to look at his paperwork. You have no idea what you do to him. You have no idea how difficult it is to keep pretending he doesn’t feel the way he does.
After everything he’s lost, everything he’s sacrificed, he never expected something as simple as someone making him laugh to become the thing he wants most.
“Any luck?” he asks quietly.
When you don’t answer, he glances up, and feels like he should stop breathing. You’re sitting on the edge of his desk, watching him. Your expression is softer than usual, your eyes studying him in a way that makes him forget every thought he was having.
“Can I ask you something?”
Steve clears his throat.
“Of course.”
You hesitate for only a second. “Will you kiss me?”
Everything in him freezes. His fingers tighten around the folder in his hands. For a moment, he thinks he must have misunderstood you. “I’m sorry?”
A small smile tugs at your lips as you stand and slowly walk around the desk. “You heard me.”
Steve watches you approach, every instinct telling him to step back. Every other part of him telling him not to.
Your fingers gently wrap around his tie, pulling him closer. “Just kiss me.”
His hands twitch at his sides. He wants to touch you. If he could, he’d pull you against him and forget about rules and consequences and all the reasons why he shouldn’t.
“We can’t.”
Your expression shifts slightly.
“Why not?”
Steve swallows. “Because you work with me.”
“So?”
“So I’m supposed to be better than this.” The words leave his mouth quietly. He’s always supposed to be better. The great American hero, the man who does the right thing. “It would…be a conflict of interest.”
Your hand slowly falls from his tie. A flash of disappointment crosses your face, and it hurts more than it should.
“Right,” you whisper.
Steve immediately regrets it. “Hey-“
“I’m sorry, Steve.” You gather the papers from his desk. “I’ll take these back. I’ll have everything organized by tomorrow, I don’t know what I was thinking.”
You turn toward the door, and Steve panics at the thought of you leaving him.
“Wait.”
Your hand pauses on the door handle, neck twisting to glance at him over your shoulder. Steve exhales.
“Don’t go.” The silence between you stretches. He runs a hand through his hair, trying to find the right words. “Come home with me.”
Your eyebrows lift. “Steve.”
“Not like that,” he says quickly, though a faint smile pulls at his lips. “I mean… we’ll get dinner. You can help me finish these reports. We’ll just spend some time together.”
You study him, and that familiar coquettish smile appears in your face.
“Alright.” Steve lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “But,” you add, stepping closer again, “I want to revisit our earlier conversation.”
He looks at you, and allows himself to stop fighting what he wants. A quiet laugh leaves him as he shakes his head.
“I have a feeling we’re not going to get much paperwork done tonight.”
Summary:
Steve really should have made sure Bucky locked the briefing room door.
Author’s Note:
written for @i-gotta-go-so-much-bigger’s request for my 1k celebration!
hope you like it 🫶🏼
You glanced between the two men sitting on either side of you. “You two are terrible at subtlety.”
Steve’s hand stopped halfway through its slow path up your thigh. On your other side, Bucky lifted his beer to his mouth with such practiced innocence that you nearly laughed. He’d been watching Steve’s hand for the last ten minutes, so the act wasn’t particularly convincing, especially when the corner of his mouth twitched as Steve reluctantly moved his palm back toward your knee.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Bucky said.
You looked around the common room before answering. Sam had taken over the opposite couch, one ankle propped across his knee while he argued with Natasha about something on the TV. Clint was stretched across an armchair with his phone held above his face, and Bruce had disappeared toward the kitchen a few minutes ago. Nobody seemed to be paying attention to the three of you tucked along the end of the sectional.
That didn’t mean nobody had noticed.
“You’ve been staring at Steve’s hand for the last ten minutes.”
Bucky tipped his bottle toward Steve. “Was staring at him.”
You turned to Steve, eyebrows raised. “Really?”
Steve sighed. “Don’t drag me into this.”
Bucky’s grin widened, and Steve slowly turned his head toward him. “Buck.”
There was enough warning packed into his name that Bucky finally abandoned the innocent expression. His grin flashed instead, bright and shameless, while Steve sighed through his nose as if he hadn’t willingly spent most of the evening sitting close enough that your legs remained pressed together.
You rested your head against Steve’s shoulder. “You’re both impossible.”
His hand returned to your thigh almost immediately, and of course Bucky noticed. His gaze dropped to where Steve’s palm rested before lifting to yours.
“We could always go somewhere else.”
Steve didn’t even look at him. “Don’t.”
“You don’t know what I was gonna say.”
“I know exactly what you were going to say.”
“Then I don’t gotta say it.”
“Great.”
Bucky leaned forward, forearms braced against his knees. “So we’re going?”
Steve’s fingers tightened against your leg, and you bit the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling.
His head turned toward you. “Don’t encourage him.”
“I haven’t said anything.”
“You’re thinking very loudly.”
“That sounds like a you problem, Captain.”
Something changed in Steve’s expression, subtle enough that nobody across the room would have noticed but obvious to you. His eyes narrowed slightly as his thumb dragged once over the fabric covering your thigh, earning a quiet hum from Bucky.
Steve glanced past you at him. “You’re not helping.”
“Wasn’t trying to.”
That probably should have been the end of it, but ten minutes later you were following Bucky down the hallway while Steve walked behind you, muttering about both of you having absolutely no sense of self-preservation.
“You’re still coming,” you pointed out.
“That’s because I know what happens when I leave you two unsupervised.”
Bucky glanced over his shoulder. “Usually something fun.”
“Usually something expensive.”
“The kitchen table was already loose.”
“It was six months old.”
“Cheap construction.”
Steve stared at the back of Bucky’s head. “Tony had it custom made.”
“That was his first mistake.”
You covered your mouth, but your laugh escaped anyway. Steve caught your wrist and pulled your hand down, the sternness he was attempting lasting only until you smiled at him.
“There,” Bucky said. “Knew you weren’t actually mad.”
“I can change that.”
“You’ve been threatening me with that since 1938.”
“And one day you’re gonna learn.”
“Hasn’t happened yet.”
Bucky stopped outside one of the smaller briefing rooms on the training level and opened the door.
You peered inside. “Here?”
“It’s empty.”
“So is our bedroom.”
“Our bedroom’s three floors away.”
Steve folded his arms. “That is not a compelling argument.”
Bucky stepped through the doorway. “Then go upstairs.”
Steve remained in the hall while you backed into the room, his gaze following you the entire way. Bucky lingered beside the open door with an increasingly knowing smile as you held out your hand.
Steve stared at it for approximately two seconds before giving in and crossing the threshold.
“That’s what I thought.”
“Don’t start.”
Bucky shut the door behind him.
Steve immediately looked over. “Did you lock it?”
Bucky paused. “…Probably.”
“James.”
“What?”
“Lock the door.”
“It’s fine, Stevie.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
Steve looked unconvinced, but you’d already caught the front of his shirt and pulled him toward you.
“It’s fine.”
“It is absolutely not—”
You kissed him, and whatever Steve had intended to say disappeared against your mouth.
His hands found your waist with an ease born from familiarity, one settling at the small of your back while the other slid along your side. He kissed you carefully at first, as though he still intended to prove he possessed some measure of restraint despite following both of you into an empty briefing room in the middle of the night.
Bucky came up behind you, his mouth brushing beneath your ear, and whatever restraint Steve had been clinging to lasted another few seconds. His grip tightened around your waist, making you smile into the kiss.
Bucky caught the reaction and gave a quiet, satisfied laugh. “Knew that’d get to you.”
Steve broke away just far enough to glare past you. “You gonna keep talking?”
“Always.”
Bucky’s hand settled against your hip, overlapping Steve’s for a moment before continuing lower. The warmth of him pressed along your back while Steve stood in front of you, and being caught between them sent a rush of anticipation through you that neither man missed.
Steve’s gaze dropped to your mouth. “You’re enjoying this.”
“Maybe.”
Bucky kissed the side of your neck. “She definitely is.”
Steve glanced at him. “You’re both enjoying this.”
“Never said I wasn’t.”
Steve shook his head, though the faint flush climbing his throat contradicted every bit of disapproval in his expression.
You hooked your fingers into his belt loops and drew him closer. “Captain America making out in a briefing room while half the team’s still downstairs.”
His eyes lifted to yours.
Bucky made a quiet sound behind you that was suspiciously close to laughter.
You smiled. “What would people say?”
Steve’s hand slid to the back of your neck. “Keep talking.”
The low warning in his voice sent heat curling through you.
Bucky laughed outright. “Jesus, Stevie.”
“You wanted me to loosen up.”
“Didn’t say I was complaining.”
Steve kissed you again before Bucky could add anything else, and the teasing quickly stopped feeling quite so funny.
The edge of the conference table bumped the backs of your thighs. Steve followed when you leaned against it, his body fitting between your knees as Bucky stayed beside you, one hand moving slowly along your waist.
“You know,” Bucky said, “this is usually where they talk about mission parameters.”
Steve kissed along your jaw. “Ignore him.”
“Operational objectives.”
“Buck.”
“Threat assessment.”
You laughed, and Steve caught your chin between his fingers. “You’re encouraging him again.”
“I can’t help that he’s funny.”
“He’s not.”
Bucky looked offended. “That’s hurtful.”
Steve’s thumb brushed across your lower lip. “You wanna keep laughing?”
The question changed your breathing enough that his expression sharpened immediately.
Bucky saw it too. “Think she wants you to do something about it.”
Steve turned his head. “You have a lot to say for somebody standing over there.”
Bucky’s eyebrows lifted, and you immediately understood Steve’s mistake. “Then invite me over.”
Steve looked back at you and found you fighting a smile. “I hate both of you.”
“Liar.”
Bucky stepped closer.
His mouth found your neck again while Steve kissed you, the two of them crowding you against the conference table until there was nowhere to move that didn’t bring you into contact with one of them. Bucky’s touch wandered with considerably less restraint than Steve’s, and every small reaction it drew from you seemed to encourage him.
Steve finally broke the kiss when your breathing became uneven. “Buck.”
“What?”
“You’re doing that on purpose.”
“Doing what?”
Steve gave him a look.
Bucky smiled against your neck. “She hasn’t complained.”
“I’m right here,” you reminded them.
“That’s the problem,” Steve muttered.
You laughed, and Bucky covered your mouth with his hand before the sound could carry beyond the room.
Steve stared at him. “Really?”
“She was getting loud.”
“You’re the one making her loud.”
Bucky’s mouth twitched. “Wasn’t just laughing.”
Your eyes widened while Steve gave him another look, and you retaliated by biting lightly at the heel of Bucky’s hand. He pulled it away. “Hey.”
“That’s what you get.”
“For trying to save us?”
“From a problem you created?”
Steve laughed against your shoulder, and Bucky immediately pointed at him. “You’re involved too.”
“I’m aware.”
“You’re more involved than I am right now.”
Steve lifted his head, and the look he gave Bucky sent another rush of anticipation through you.
Bucky saw it too. “Go ahead, punk.”
Steve’s jaw tightened as you ran your hands over his shoulders. “He’s baiting you.”
“I know.”
“You still look like you’re considering it.”
“I am.”
Bucky leaned a hip against the table beside you. “Knew he was smart.”
Whatever happened to Steve’s patience after that was entirely Bucky’s fault.
At least, that was what Steve would insist later.
Bucky’s shirt ended up on the floor first. Your impatient fingers worked several of Steve’s buttons free, leaving his shirt hanging open as the three of you shifted around the conference table with increasingly little concern for the purpose it had actually been designed to serve.
Bucky got you to himself first.
Steve remained close enough that you could reach him, one hand resting at the back of your neck while Bucky pressed against you from behind. His mouth returned to the spot beneath your ear he’d been tormenting since you entered the room, but this time his hand didn’t stop at your waist. He slipped beneath the waistband of your pants, fingers dragging slowly through the wetness already gathered between your thighs.
Your breath caught.
Bucky smiled against your neck. “Thought so.”
“Don’t start,” Steve warned.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You were about to.”
Bucky ignored him and slid two fingers through you again, deliberately avoiding your clit until you shifted impatiently against his hand. He laughed softly when you tried to guide him where you wanted him.
“You’ve been teasing us all night, sweetheart. You can wait a second.”
You turned your head enough to glare at him. “You’re the one who suggested leaving.”
“Yeah, and look how well that worked out for me.”
His fingers finally circled your clit, and whatever comeback you’d been preparing disappeared beneath the sudden rush of pleasure. Your head tipped back against his shoulder while Steve watched the change in your face, his thumb moving slowly along the side of your neck.
Bucky noticed where Steve was looking.
“You gonna keep staring?”
Steve’s eyes lifted. “You gonna keep talking?”
“Probably.”
“You’re gonna regret that.”
Bucky laughed. “That a promise?”
His fingers slid lower before pressing inside you, and your hand tightened around Steve’s open shirt. Bucky worked them deeper with patient strokes, curling them until your hips shifted back against him without conscious thought.
“There,” Bucky murmured. “That’s what you wanted.”
Steve’s gaze darkened. “Buck.”
“What?”
“You’re doing that on purpose.”
“Obviously.”
You laughed breathlessly and reached behind you, finding the hard length of Bucky’s cock through his pants. Whatever smart remark Bucky had been about to make died when your fingers closed around him.
The corner of Steve’s mouth lifted at Bucky’s reaction. “Still wanna talk?”
“Fuck you,” Bucky muttered.
You squeezed him again.
Steve’s smile widened. “That’s what I thought.”
Bucky retaliated by pulling his fingers from you and catching your hips. He drew you back from Steve just long enough to turn you toward the conference table, then followed as you braced your hands against the polished surface. Bucky stepped in behind you again, pushing your pants and underwear farther down your thighs.
The cool table beneath your palms was a sharp contrast to the heat of Bucky behind you.
Steve moved around to your front. You looked up at him as Bucky freed himself behind you, and Steve’s hand settled beneath your jaw. “You good?”
“Yeah.”
Bucky dragged the head of his cock through your wetness once, twice, deliberately taking his time.
You pushed back against him.
He caught your hip. “Impatient.”
“You made me wait.”
“That was about thirty seconds.”
“Felt longer.”
Steve’s mouth twitched. “She’s got a point.”
“Thought you were on my side.”
“I’m on hers.”
“Traitor.”
Bucky lined himself up and pushed slowly into you.
The stretch stole the next breath from your lungs. Your fingers tightened against the edge of the table while he worked himself deeper, stopping only when your body tensed around him.
Steve brushed his thumb along your jaw. “Easy.”
Bucky went still behind you. You took another breath and relaxed around him before pushing your hips back enough to take the rest.
A groan broke from Bucky. “Jesus.”
Steve’s gaze flicked over you toward him. “You alright back there?”
“Shut up.”
“You were talking plenty a minute ago.”
Bucky tightened his grip around your hips and pulled almost all the way out before thrusting back into you.
The sound you made cut Steve’s teasing short. His eyes returned to yours.
Bucky did it again, slower this time, letting you feel every inch before his hips met yours.
“Fuck,” you breathed.
“Yeah?” Bucky’s voice had already roughened. “That better?”
You pushed back against him.
He groaned.
Steve slid one hand into your hair, not pulling, only gathering enough of it away from your face that he could see you properly. “Answer him.”
“Yeah.”
Bucky laughed once, breathlessly. “Knew it.”
Then he started fucking you in earnest. His first few thrusts stayed measured, giving you time to adjust before his rhythm gradually quickened. Each one pushed you forward against the table until Steve braced a hand against your shoulder, keeping you from sliding farther across the polished surface.
Bucky’s fingers dug into your hips. “You feel fucking incredible.”
Steve’s eyebrows rose.
Bucky caught it. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“Say it.”
Steve looked at you instead. “He gets chatty when he’s enjoying himself.”
Bucky’s next thrust drove deeper, and your mouth fell open on a moan.
Steve immediately leaned down and kissed you. You clutched at the front of his shirt while Bucky kept moving behind you, Steve swallowing each increasingly helpless sound as Bucky’s pace picked up. The table shifted faintly beneath the force of his thrusts.
Bucky’s hand slipped around your hip and between your thighs.
You broke away from Steve’s mouth with a gasp when his fingers found your clit. “Buck—”
“Got you.”
His fingers moved in tight circles while he fucked you, the double stimulation sending pleasure building rapidly through your stomach. Your legs started to tremble.
Steve felt it where his hand rested against you. “Close?”
You nodded.
Bucky made a satisfied sound behind you. “Can feel it.”
Steve’s eyes sharpened. “Then don’t stop.”
“Wasn’t planning on it.”
Bucky’s thrusts grew harder, his fingers maintaining the same steady pressure even as the movement of his hips grew increasingly uneven. You buried your face against Steve’s shoulder to muffle yourself, biting lightly through the fabric of his shirt when Bucky hit the angle that made your whole body tighten.
“Right there,” you gasped.
Bucky didn’t need the instruction twice. He kept the same angle, fucking you through the tension gathering low in your stomach until your thighs started shaking harder.
Steve’s hand moved along your back. “Come on.”
The quiet command pushed you over. Your orgasm broke through you in a sudden rush, your body clenching around Bucky as a broken moan disappeared against Steve’s shoulder.
Bucky swore, his rhythm faltering immediately. “Fuck, sweetheart.”
He kept moving through the contractions, thrusts turning rougher and less controlled while his grip tightened around your hip. Your oversensitive body twitched beneath his fingers until he finally pulled his hand away from your clit.
Bucky lasted only a few more thrusts. He buried himself deep with a low groan and came inside you, his chest pressing over your back as his hips gave a final uneven jerk.
For several seconds, nobody moved.
Bucky’s breathing was hot against your shoulder.
Steve ran one hand slowly along your back. “You alive?”
Bucky lifted his head just enough to glare at him. “Ask me again in a minute.”
You laughed weakly.
Bucky kissed your shoulder before gradually straightening. When he finally pulled out, the movement drew a soft sound from you, his come already beginning to slip between your thighs.
Steve’s gaze dropped to the mess slipping between your thighs before lifting slowly to Bucky. “Done?”
Bucky tucked himself back into his pants, still breathing harder than usual. “Your turn, punk.”
Steve’s attention returned to you as Bucky stepped away.
You pushed yourself upright from the table while Steve came around to your side. He caught your hips once he reached you, helping you turn before lifting you onto the edge of the conference table. Your pants and underwear were still bunched around your thighs, and you shoved them down far enough to slip one leg free before parting your thighs for him.
Steve stepped between them. You barely had time to smile before he leaned in and kissed you.
Bucky leaned against the table beside you, shirtless and wearing the smug expression of a man who had absolutely no intention of becoming less annoying now that he’d gotten what he wanted.
Steve kissed you while his hands traveled slowly down your sides. His touch was different from Bucky’s, less hurried even with the impatience you could feel beneath it. He let one hand slide between your thighs, and his mouth stilled against yours when his fingers encountered the mess Bucky had left behind.
His eyes opened.
Bucky grinned. “Problem?”
Steve looked at him. “Don’t.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You were about to.”
Bucky lifted both hands, but the grin remained.
Steve turned back to you. His fingers dragged through Bucky’s come before sliding upward to your clit, and your thighs twitched around his hips. “You okay?”
“More than okay.”
“You sensitive?”
“A little.”
His thumb moved carefully over your clit.
You sucked in a breath.
Steve watched your face. “Too much?”
“No.”
Bucky leaned closer. “She’d tell you if it was.”
Steve gave him a sidelong look. “I know.”
“Just helping.”
“You’ve done enough helping.”
“Disagree.”
Steve ignored him and pushed two fingers inside you, curling them against the sensitive spot that made your head tip back and your legs tighten around him. His thumb settled over your clit as he worked you through the slick mess Bucky had left behind.
“Steve.”
“I know.”
He kissed you again, fingers continuing their slow rhythm until your hips started rocking against his hand.
Bucky watched from beside you. “You know she was doing that with me too.”
Steve’s mouth left yours. “You trying to start something?”
“Maybe.”
“You already got your turn.”
Bucky’s grin widened. “Doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate yours.”
Steve pulled his fingers from you.
Bucky’s eyes dropped. “Jesus.”
Steve looked down too, something darker settling into his expression at the sight of his fingers slick with both your arousal and what Bucky had left inside you.
Both men went still as you caught Steve’s wrist before he could move away and brought his fingers to your mouth, sucking them clean.
“Fuck,” Bucky said quietly.
Steve’s gaze stayed locked on your mouth until you released him.
Then he caught your jaw and kissed you hard. You reached between you, working open his pants while he crowded closer. Steve helped just enough to free himself before his hand returned to your waist.
The head of his cock dragged through the wetness between your thighs. Steve looked at you. “Ready?”
“Yeah.”
He pushed inside. You were already stretched and slick from Bucky, but Steve still took his time, working himself deeper inch by inch while his forehead rested against yours. Your legs tightened around his hips as he filled you, the lingering sensitivity from your first orgasm making every inch feel more intense.
Steve stopped when he was fully inside. “You good?”
You nodded. “Move.”
Bucky laughed softly beside you. “Think that means she’s good.”
Steve didn’t look away from you. “Nobody asked you.”
His first thrust was slow, but the second went deeper, making you wrap your legs more securely around his waist and pulling him closer.
Steve exhaled sharply against your mouth. “This what you wanted?”
“Yes.”
His hand tightened around your hip.
“Then hold on.”
Steve kept that measured rhythm longer than Bucky had, dragging his cock almost all the way out before filling you again. Each thrust dragged through the slick mess Bucky had left between your thighs before pushing it back inside you.
Bucky’s gaze dropped. “Fuck, Stevie.”
Steve’s jaw tightened. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“You’ve never said ‘nothing’ like that in your life.”
Bucky laughed.
Steve thrust harder. The sudden force drove a moan from you and made the table shift beneath your weight.
Bucky’s eyebrows rose. “There you go.”
“Stop encouraging him,” you breathed.
Bucky looked delighted. “Thought that was your job.”
Steve answered with another harder thrust. Your fingers tightened around his shoulders.
His expression changed when he felt you clench. “You like that?”
You nodded.
“Use your words.”
“Yes.”
Bucky made an approving sound.
Steve glanced at him. “I swear—”
You pulled Steve back toward you before he could finish the threat. “Pay attention.”
His eyes returned to yours. “Bossy.”
“You like it.”
Steve’s mouth curved. “Maybe.”
He kissed you and picked up his pace.
This time he stopped holding back. His hips drove into you with enough force that you had to brace one hand behind yourself against the table while the other stayed wrapped around his shoulder. Steve caught your thigh and lifted it higher against his side, changing the angle until his next thrust hit deep enough to tear a gasp from you.
He felt the reaction immediately. “There?”
You swallowed. “Again.”
Steve obliged; the next thrust struck the same spot.
Your head tipped back. “Fuck.”
Bucky shifted closer.
Steve noticed his hand moving toward you. “Thought you were done.”
“I am.”
“Then why are you touching her?”
Bucky slid his palm along the inside of your thigh. “Finishing doesn’t mean I’m done with her.”
His fingers reached your clit, making your breath break.
Steve’s hips stuttered for a fraction of a second.
Bucky smiled. “Problem?”
“You’re enjoying this way too much.”
“Yeah.”
Steve drove into you again while Bucky circled your clit, and the combined sensation made your legs tighten around him.
Bucky watched your face. “She’s still sensitive.”
Steve’s breathing had grown rougher. “I noticed.”
“Then fuck her like it.”
Steve looked at him. Bucky grinned.
You barely had time to inhale before Steve drove into you harder, then did it again.
Your grip tightened around his shoulders while Bucky kept his fingers moving between your bodies, Steve’s rhythm steadily losing the last of its caution.
The conference table shifted beneath you again. “Steve.”
His mouth brushed your jaw. “I’ve got you.”
Footsteps sounded in the corridor.
Steve stopped so suddenly that your breath caught for an entirely different reason.
Bucky pulled his hand away immediately.
“Someone’s coming,” Steve whispered.
The three of you went silent.
Steve remained buried fully inside you, one hand gripping your waist and the other braced against the conference table. You could feel every small twitch of Steve’s body as the footsteps drew closer. Whoever was outside paused near the briefing room for one agonizing moment and continued down the hall.
Nobody moved until the sound faded down the hallway. Bucky dropped his forehead against your shoulder and started laughing.
Steve stared at him. “This isn’t funny.”
“You should’ve seen your face.”
“My face?”
“Both your faces.”
Steve looked at you, apparently expecting support. You pressed your lips together.
His eyes narrowed. “Don’t.”
“You’re still inside me.”
Bucky made a strangled sound and folded farther over your shoulder, laughing hard enough that you could feel it.
Steve closed his eyes. “Christ.”
“You said it wasn’t funny.”
“It isn’t.”
Bucky managed to straighten. “Sure about that, Stevie?”
Steve looked toward the door.
For a moment, you genuinely thought he might finally pull out and insist on going upstairs.
Instead, his hand tightened around your hip.
“So we’re not stopping,” Bucky said.
Steve glared at him. “You’ve talked enough.”
“That’s a no, then.”
Steve kissed you before either of you could say anything else.
His first thrust after the interruption was harder than anything he’d given you before it.
You gasped against his mouth.
The second drove you backward against the table.
Bucky’s laughter abruptly stopped. “Fuck.”
Steve ignored him. Whatever the near miss had done to Steve, embarrassment clearly wasn’t the only result. His careful rhythm was gone, replaced by hard, deliberate thrusts that made the table shake beneath you.
Your fingers dug into his shoulders. “Steve.”
“Still good?”
“Yeah.”
His hand slid beneath your thigh and lifted it higher. “Then take it.”
The words sent heat rushing through you.
Bucky swore softly beside you. Steve heard him. A faint, almost smug curve touched his mouth.
Bucky stared. “Oh, now you’re showing off.”
Steve shot him a look. “You wanted me to loosen up.”
Bucky’s grin widened. “Didn’t think you’d take it this far.”
Steve answered by thrusting harder. You moaned.
Bucky immediately reached between you again. His fingers found your clit, and your whole body jolted.
Steve looked down. “Really?”
“She liked it before.”
“She’s already having trouble staying quiet.”
“Sounds like motivation.”
Bucky circled your clit again, making your head fall back.
Steve caught your jaw and brought your attention back to him. “Look at me.”
You did.
“That’s it.” His voice had gone low and rough, every remaining trace of embarrassment replaced with something far more possessive.
“Careful, Stevie. You sound like you’re enjoying this.”
Steve drove into you hard enough to steal your breath.
Bucky smiled. “Guess so.”
“You want me to shut you up myself?”
“While you’re busy?”
You laughed breathlessly. “He has a point.”
Steve looked at you. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”
“I’m between both of you. I don’t have a side.”
Bucky’s fingers pressed more firmly against your clit. “That’s my girl.”
Steve’s hand tightened around your jaw. “His girl?”
Bucky laughed. “Oh, now you care?”
Something changed in Steve’s expression. His pace picked up.
The amusement disappeared from your face almost immediately as pleasure began building again, sharper this time because your body had never fully come down from Bucky.
“Steve.”
“I know.”
His hand left your jaw and wrapped around your waist, holding you securely at the edge of the table while he fucked you harder. Bucky kept his fingers moving against your clit, matching Steve’s rhythm until you could feel another orgasm gathering rapidly.
Then the access panel beside the door chirped.
Everything stopped.
Steve’s eyes snapped toward the sound.
Bucky jerked his hand away. “Shit.”
The mechanism clicked.
Steve barely had time to stop moving before the door opened.
Natasha Romanoff stepped inside.
Nobody spoke.
Her gaze landed on Bucky first. His shirt was the only piece of clothing any of you had actually removed, and his pants were fastened again after his earlier turn. Then she looked at you, still wearing everything you’d entered the room in, though your pants and underwear were pushed down with one leg slipped free to give Steve access, your legs wrapped around his hips where he stood between them.
Finally, she looked at Steve. His shirt hung open where you’d undone several buttons, and his pants had only been opened and pushed down far enough for him to fuck you.
He was still inside you.
Steve seemed to realize at approximately the same moment Natasha did that there was no disguising exactly what she’d walked in on. Steve immediately shifted closer, using his body to shield the exposed space between your thighs from view. Bucky, apparently incapable of experiencing shame in any useful quantity, leaned one hip against the table.
“Hey, Nat.”
She looked at him. “Barnes.”
Steve closed his eyes briefly.
“The door locks from the inside,” Natasha said.
Bucky slowly looked toward the door before turning back to Steve. “Knew I forgot something.”
Steve dropped his forehead against yours. You covered your face with both hands.
Natasha continued into the room.
Steve looked up in horror. “What are you doing?”
“Getting my tablet.”
Her tablet sat at the opposite end of the conference table. Natasha walked toward it with the composure of someone entering an entirely ordinary briefing room instead of one containing three teammates very obviously interrupted in the middle of sex.
Steve still hadn’t pulled out. At that point, doing so probably would have exposed even more of you to Natasha.
Bucky seemed to arrive at the same conclusion, because his mouth twitched.
Steve caught it. Do not, he mouthed.
I didn’t say anything, Bucky mouthed back.
Natasha picked up the tablet and tucked it beneath her arm. Her gaze moved from Steve to Bucky and finally to you. “Sam owes me twenty dollars.”
Your hands dropped from your face. “What?”
Steve looked genuinely alarmed. “Why?”
“You don’t want to know.”
“Nat.”
She turned toward the door.
“Natasha.”
“Goodnight, Steve.”
“Natasha.”
The door closed behind her. Bucky crossed the room and turned the lock before anyone said a word.
Steve stared at him.
“What?” Bucky said. “Better late than never.”
You laughed.
Steve looked at you in disbelief, which only made it harder to stop laughing. Bucky leaned back against the locked door, shoulders shaking.
“Don’t,” Steve warned.
“I’m sorry.”
“You’re not.”
“No,” Bucky admitted. “I’m really not.”
Steve looked down between your bodies before closing his eyes.
“You’re still inside me,” you reminded him.
Bucky laughed harder.
Steve pointed toward him without turning around. “One more sound.”
Bucky pressed his lips together. The silence lasted perhaps two seconds. “Sam owes her twenty dollars.”
Steve’s head snapped toward him. “Buck.”
“What do you think the bet was?”
“I don’t want to know.”
“They already had money on this.”
“I heard her.”
“Which means—”
“James.”
Bucky finally raised both hands.
Steve turned back to you. The embarrassment was still written clearly across his face, but Natasha’s interruption hadn’t changed the fact that he was still hard inside you.
You shifted your hips experimentally.
Steve inhaled sharply as his eyes narrowed. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“You know exactly what you’re doing.”
Bucky made a thoughtful sound from beside the door.
Steve didn’t even look at him. “Not a word.”
Bucky mimed zipping his mouth.
You bit back a smile.
Steve glanced toward the locked door and then back at you. “You still want to keep going?”
“Yeah.”
His shoulders relaxed. “Okay.”
You caught his open shirt and pulled him down into a kiss.
Steve started moving again slowly, both of you acutely aware of the absurdity of resuming exactly where Natasha had interrupted you. His first thrust was almost cautious. The second wasn’t. By the third, whatever embarrassment had survived her departure was rapidly turning into something else.
You tightened your legs around him. Steve groaned against your mouth.
Bucky came back to your side and reached between your thighs again, earning a warning look from Steve.
Bucky shrugged. “Door’s locked.”
Steve stared at him, but then his expression changed. “Fine.”
Bucky’s eyebrows rose. “Fine?”
“You wanted to help.” Steve drove into you again. “Help.”
The satisfaction on Bucky’s face should have been irritating, but then his fingers found your clit as Steve fucked you harder.
Your breath caught immediately.
“There you go,” Steve murmured.
His voice had lost every trace of the mortification Natasha had left behind.
Bucky matched the movement of his fingers to Steve’s thrusts, and the pressure building low in your stomach sharpened so quickly that your hand flew to Steve’s shoulder.
“Steve.”
“I’ve got you.”
Bucky leaned close to your ear. “You were close before she walked in.”
You whimpered, and Steve’s grip tightened around you as Bucky smiled against your temple. “Knew it.”
“Buck.”
“What? I’m helping.”
His fingers moved faster as Steve drove into you again, the combination making your whole body tighten.
“That’s it,” Steve murmured. “Come on.”
The orgasm broke through you hard enough that your legs locked around his hips. You buried your face against Steve’s shoulder, muffling your cry against his skin while Bucky kept rubbing your clit through every wave.
Steve’s rhythm faltered as you clenched around him. “Fuck.”
He held you securely against him, fucking you through the aftershocks until your hand dropped to catch Bucky’s wrist. “Enough.”
Bucky stopped immediately and kissed your temple, but Steve was already too close to stop. His forehead pressed against yours as his thrusts shortened and steadily lost their rhythm. “Still okay?”
“Yeah.”
His eyes closed.
You tightened your legs around him. “Come inside me.”
Bucky went very quiet beside you.
Steve made a broken sound and buried himself as deeply as he could. His grip tightened around your waist when he came, filling you while his forehead dropped to your shoulder. You held him there as the last tension gradually left his body.
For several seconds, the room was finally quiet.
Then Bucky looked down between your bodies.
Steve saw him. “Don’t.”
Bucky lifted his eyes. “Didn’t say anything.”
“You were going to.”
“I was gonna say the door’s definitely locked.”
Steve finally eased out of you as you laughed against his shoulder, keeping one hand at your waist as Bucky grinned and bent to retrieve his shirt from the floor.
“See? Helpful.”
Steve reached past your hip, grabbed the nearest pen from the conference table, and threw it at him.
Bucky straightened with his shirt in one hand just in time to catch the pen against his chest.
“Violence,” he said solemnly. “After everything we’ve been through.”
“You forgot to lock the door.”
“One mistake.”
“Natasha walked in while I was fucking her.”
Bucky considered that. “Okay. Pretty big mistake.”
You laughed harder, and Steve finally gave up trying to look annoyed. His forehead settled against your shoulder while Bucky pulled his shirt back on.
For once, Bucky managed nearly ten seconds without saying anything.
Then he glanced toward the locked door. “So, important question.”
Steve groaned. “What?”
“Think Sam’s gonna ask her for proof?”
Steve found another pen before Bucky finished laughing and threw it, catching him squarely in the forehead.
credit to @uzmacchiato for the cherry divider and @silkholland for the Marvel divider ❤️💛
Plot Summary : When your boyfriend turns out to be cheating piece of shit, two alphas come to your rescue. One tells you he won't keep you and the other wants nothing to do with you, but that doesn't stop the pull you feel towards them. The closer you get, the more you discover about them, and about yourself.
Pairing : Alpha!Steve Rogers x Omega!Reader / Alpha!Bucky Barnes x Omega!Reader
Story Rating : R
Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Smutty behaviour and, seriously, everyone is an asshole. All chapters will contain the usual omegaverse and A/B/O tropes, love triangle(ish), and explicit smut. There is an unspecified age gap between Alphas and reader. All characters are a little darker than usual. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story.
Word Count : 5.7k
Chapter List : Chapter One | Chapter Two
A/N : sorry this took so long 😂 and seriously, everyone is an asshole in this fic.
Chapter Three
Bucky helped you carry your things down to the car, but he didn't say a word. He hadn't said a word when Rick had glared at you and watched you walk out the door, and he certainly hadn't said anything when he noticed you fighting back tears. (They weren't tears over Rick, of course, you were just mourning the loss of eighteen months of your life.)
But you caught the looks — those quick sideways glances he gave you and the little shakes of his head — but you didn't say anything until the car pulled up outside the mansion.
"What?" You finally asked, more exhausted than annoyed after enduring twenty minutes of silence from him.
"What?" He repeated, as if he didn't know.
"Clearly you want to say something, so just say it."
"You want to know what I think?"
You set your jaw and shook your head. The last thing you wanted was to get pulled into some fucked-up mind game with him, so you got out the car and walked to the trunk to get your things.
Bucky followed after, waiting until the back of the car was open before answering.
"Why'd you let him treat you like that?" Bucky asked, placing a hand on your suitcase to keep you from grabbing it. "Why are you letting Steve?"
"Steve isn't like Rick." You sounded so sure despite only knowing the alpha one night.
"He told you that he just wants you for sex, right? He doesn't want you, he wants what you do for him."
"And what's that?" You snapped, making the mistake of turning towards him. The second Bucky stood to his full height in front of you, you felt heat start to pool in your belly.
"Fuck, you really haven't had an alpha before, have you?" He barely kept himself from laughing. "When we fuck an omega, it's not just sex for us; it's power. Dominance. When he's inside you, he owns you. Your piece of shit ex was keeping you trapped in that crappy little apartment, trying his best to own you — not because he wanted you, because it made him feel powerful to have an omega. He's a beta desperately playing at alpha."
You shook your head even though some small part of you knew it was true. Omegas were prized because of their submissive nature, because they often gave themselves completely to their partners. Especially if that partner was an alpha. You hadn't thought about it because you hadn't wanted to think about how true it was. You'd spent eighteen months with Rick, trying to ignore how small he made you feel.
Were you falling into the same trap with Steve now?
(No, the alpha wants us. He'll keep us, your hindbrain whined, though you had to wonder which alpha she meant.)
"You don't know what you're getting into here," he continued.
"I'm a big girl, I can look after myself."
"Then why are you letting anyone with a dick treat you like a doormat?"
You didn't answer and he practically growled when you started to walk away, abandoning your things.
You managed to make it back into the kitchen before he grabbed your arm and forced you back towards him. Without thinking, you swung at him, catching him across the cheek with your open hand. The slap did little to deter him. His grip tightened and he pulled you flush against his body.
"That's the spirit," he said as you struggled against him. "Stop letting men treat you like shit."
"What d'you care?"
"Because you're better than that — better than some piece of shit beta, better than some alpha who just wants to wet his dick..."
"Better than some asshole alpha who won't take no for an answer?" You spat.
Bucky grinned. "Yeah, you're supposed to be better than someone like me."
"I am better than you. So. Let. Me. Go."
"I want to, doll. I really do," he said, his voice turning low and deep, "but I don't think I can. And I don't think you want that either."
You weren't sure when you'd stopped struggling and allowed him to hold you against his body, but you were pressed against him, your hand beneath his jacket, resting just above his thundering heart. Your legs felt like jelly beneath you and every breath you took was Bucky.
(He smells so good. Ours — he smells like ours. Don't pull back, the voice in your head begged.)
"Fuck," he groaned, "I can smell how wet you are..."
Your lips parted, you wanted to say... something. Anything. You wanted to tell him that he was a pig, that you thought he was vile. But he was right. Heat was burning through you, licking at your core and making you want. And, before you could think a rational thought, Bucky moved, slanting his lips over yours.
The kiss was anything but gentle, and you had to grasp a fistful of his shirt just to keep yourself from falling as he urged you backwards. He kept moving, kept pushing until you were against the counter. You let out a grunt of pain against his lips but made no effort to pull away from him, and neither of you hesitated even for a second. It felt like you were at war, each of you vying for control over the kiss, for dominance over the other.
But he was an alpha and you were an omega.
There was only one way it could go.
His hand rested on your throat, just below your chin, keeping you exactly where he wanted you — but pulling away was the very last thing you wanted. Your body thrummed with a need you couldn't put a name to, something you'd never felt before, even last night with Steve.
The moment Bucky realised you were on the hook, he let that hand drop, slipping down to your chest. You whimpered as he roughly palmed your breast through the borrowed dress, awkwardly arching yourself into his touch.
Not wanting to be one-upped, you grabbed his ass, gripping him through his jeans and pulling him towards you and — oh fuck. You weren't sure what you were expecting, but the hard press of his cock, straining beneath denim was not it.
He was hard. He wanted you.
(Yes. Yes. Yes. Let him have us. We want him. Right here, your hindbrain pleaded, rattling the cage of your mind.)
He gave a grunt against your lips and pushed you back against the counter again, sinking his teeth into your lower lip. This time, the sound that escaped you was a low whine, an unmistakably omega sound, submissive and eager.
Bucky inhaled sharply and his cock twitched against you at the sweet scent of your arousal filling his lungs.
Pulling back, he looked at you, your chest heaving beneath his touch. He grit his teeth as you desperately tried to pull him closer, letting out another, quieter whine.
He watched for a second, his eyes fixed on yours, taking in the sight of your pupils blown wide as his scent enveloped you. You leaned closer, trying to reignite the kiss and Bucky found that he couldn't refuse you. He reclaimed your lips in a searing kiss, revelling in the way you were giving yourself to him and letting him take control.
As you lost yourself to him, your hands slipped around his waist to pull open his belt, then his jeans.
A deep sound vibrated through him — a sound that was all alpha — as you pulled his cock from his pants and gripped it. It went straight to your core and had you needily squirming against him.
(He's big... so big... please... please let us have him.)
Through the haze of lust and want, you realised just how much your body had reacted to him. All for him. For an alpha who'd made it crystal clear that he didn't want you around and that he didn't even like you.
It didn't matter. None of it stopped the burning ache in the pit of your stomach that wanted him.
Bucky moved suddenly, turning you away from him and bending you over the counter, leaving you with only the very tips of your toes on the floor. He tugged up the back of your dress and swore, his earlier suspicion about you not wearing panties confirmed.
His cold metal hand cupped you. A shiver slid up your spine and you squirmed against his touch. It was too much but, simultaneously, nowhere near enough.
Thankfully, Bucky wasn't interested in taking things slowly.
Your back arched as a metal finger slipped inside you, starting to pump in and out of your body in a rushed rhythm that had your eyes rolling back. He was proving a point, showing how quickly he could make you melt for him. A second finger was added and you started to writhe beneath him, until he pressed his free hand to your back to hold you in place.
"Fuckin' needy —"
You only half-heard his grumbles and the filthy things he muttered over your own eager moans and panted breathing. His fingers bent and scissored inside of you and there was no doubt in your mind that he was trying to prepare you for more.
Before his fingers could give you what you needed, before they could sate the tension coiling inside of you, they slipped from your body, leaving you empty and unsatisfied. You keened pathetically, fingers crawling against the marble countertop, until you felt the plush head of his cock.
He was going to fuck you.
And you wanted it. Needed it. Craved it. There was no controlling your desperation as you panted and whined for him, unable to hold back your baser instincts. Common sense was a distant memory and the only thing that mattered now was Bucky; not the fact that you were in the kitchen where anyone could walk in, and certainly not the fact that you hated him.
With one smooth thrust, he was inside of you. A yelp slipped out, but the momentary ache of being filled so suddenly was short lived. He started to fuck you, pulling almost all the way out before slamming forward again, causing your thighs to knock against the edge of the counter.
"So fuckin' wet," he said through gritted teeth, his voice even lower than usual; so dominant, so alpha. "Needy fuckin' omega."
You clenched around him and desperately tried to move, to meet his thrusts, to take more than he was already giving. His metal hand gripped your hip, fingers still wet with your slick, while the other hand gripped the back of your neck, pinning you down more securely.
At any other time, in any other circumstance, you would have protested, would have claimed you had no interest in being dominated by an alpha. But with Bucky, you wanted it. Every fibre of your being was screaming for it.
You wanted more.
His fingers curled into the scruff of your neck, placing a delicious pleasure on your mating gland. It was enough to make you come. Hard. Your whole body trembled and shook, and your feet completely lifted from the floor, leaving you entirely at his mercy.
Bucky tugged your thigh, pulling your left leg up to his waist and opening you further to him. He kept going, fucking you through your orgasm, all the while muttering the filthiest things about how wet you were, how eager you were for his cock, and how Steve clearly hadn't fucked you right.
All of it had you sinking deeper into that strange omega submission, wanting nothing more than to take what your alpha was giving you.
(But he wasn't your alpha any more than Steve was — not that it mattered. There was no claim on your neck, no mate waiting for you. In that moment, you were Bucky's.)
"Alpha!" You gasped.
His hips stuttered, losing their rhythm for a couple of seconds, and his fingers twitched around the scruff of your neck, grip tightening.
"What did you call me?" The way he practically growled the question sent shockwaves of pleasure up your spine, silencing your last shred of common sense, the thing trying to warn you that you were playing a dangerous game.
(Tell him. Tell him he's our alpha. We want him to be our alpha...)
"Alpha," you answered, punctuating the word with whine as his grip grew tighter, the tips of his fingers still pressing against your gland.
"That's right, omega," he grunted between particularly rough thrusts, "I'm your alpha now."
And... fuck, you wanted it. In that moment you'd been fucked so brainless that if he'd asked to mark you, claim you, you probably would have presented your neck to him. Steve didn't make you feel that way — sure, the sex had been mind-blowing but this? This was transcendental. This was life-altering. Sure, Bucky had been nothing but an asshole to you but, right now, he was scratching every single itch you'd ever had.
"Alpha," you whined again, over and over, completely lost to him.
He easily pushed you to another orgasm, the shockwaves shaking your whole body while his hands held you in place. It went on and on, for what felt like a lifetime. As the sensation finally started to peter out, you felt something else.
Bucky grunted, his cock twitching inside of you as he started to come. The first spurt of warmth had you eager for more, some baser part of you desperate for it, but the second quickly brought back some saner version of yourself. It took a split second more for your mind to catch up and for you to find your voice again.
"Pull out."
The words broke whatever spell you were both under and Bucky quickly pulled out, but your relief was short-lived. The alpha started to stroke himself and you felt something warm splash against your ass and the backs of your thighs. Ugh, you'd be disgusted if you weren't so confused over everything that had just happened. At some point he'd released his hold on you, but you remained exactly where he'd put you, sprawled over the counter, too boneless to move.
"Fuckin' hell," he muttered, sounding just as out of breath as you as he tucked himself back into his pants and turned to leave, pausing only briefly to throw a dish towel your way. "Clean yourself up, omega."
Then he was gone, leaving you lewdly on display, his cum slowly running down the backs of your thighs.
It took a minute or two for you to finally pull yourself together enough to move, cringing as you cleaned yourself with the towel. Reality crashed down around you and you had to keep yourself from vomiting in the kitchen sink.
What had just happened?
More importantly, why had you allowed it to happen?
(Why had you wanted it so fucking much?)
You tugged your dress down, disposed of the towel and headed upstairs to your room on shaking legs. You didn't cry — despite the maelstrom of emotions inside you, you weren't upset that it had happened, and you certainly weren't going to even entertain the thought that you hadn't wanted it. But that was what made it worse. You had wanted it. Wanted him.
Some part of your even wanted it again.
He'd told you that you deserved better but he'd still treated you like nothing more than a horny omega and —
"Fuck," you grit out in frustration as you slammed your bathroom door shut and started to strip.
Regardless of how you wanted to feel, every time you thought about him, something inside of you trembled. Even as you tried to tell yourself that you shouldn't want a man like him, some part of you longed to feel his hands on you again, his fingers inside you, his cock...
Your very hot shower to scrub away his scent soon turned into a very cold shower to help you get your head straight though, more than once, you had to fight the urge to dip your fingers between your thighs — not because he hadn't satisfied you but because it felt like it would never be enough, like sex with him had forever altered you.
Sex with Bucky was like your favourite ice cream; you didn't want to just stop at one scoop when there was so much more to enjoy. Part of you even regretted that it could never happen again. And the less said about your hindbrain's opinion on the matter the better.
You dressed in some of 'Nat's' clothes but, when you left your room, you found that he'd left your things neatly piled in the hallway just outside your door. There was no sign of him save for his fading scent lingering in the hallway.
You took your time unpacking, carefully moving all of Nat's things into a suitcase and putting it in the bottom of the wardrobe. Then, you finally change into your own clothes. You'd never been more glad of clean underwear in your life.
If you could have, you might have stayed in your room, but you hadn't eaten all day. It wasn't like you to forget food, especially with your omega metabolism constantly burning through every meal and snack. (Though, in fairness, you'd had a really strange 24 hours.) But, by the time you'd finished setting up your desk, the pangs of hunger became unbearable.
As an omega, you were quiet by nature, genetically predisposed to be meek and fit into an alpha or pack's life without drawing attention. It was a defence as much as it was anything else, but never in your life had you crept so silently than in that moment. You willed your shoes not to squeak on the hardwood floor and begged every floorboard to not make a sound under your feet.
But sound didn't matter when it came to alphas.
Hearing movement down the hallway, you ducked through the first open door.
"Hello sweetheart, were you looking for me?"
Steve was sitting behind an ornate desk, laptop and files in front of him. It took everything you had not to huff a sigh of relief that it was him and not Bucky who you'd stumbled upon.
"Yeah, I —" your stomach chose that moment to let out a low grumble. You smiled and bit back a laugh. "I was getting hungry."
Steve almost winced. "Of course you are. I got so carried away this morning that I guess I forgot."
You gave a shrug and something of a smile, and the moment he turned his chair away from the desk and patted his leg, you went to him. Steve's arms wrapped around your waist as you straddled his lap and a flicker of concern crossed his face when you grimaced. You'd been trying to ignore the tenderness between your thighs and thoughts of what had caused it.
"Sore?" He asked, placing his hand on your thigh, letting the tips of his fingers slip below the hem of your skirt.
"A little," you said, shrugging. "Last night was..."
You weren't sure what last night was compared to the afternoon with Bucky, but you didn't want Steve to know about it. No, you wanted him to think it was all him, that he was the only one for you. It felt gross to lie to him, but he'd made it clear that what you had wasn't really a relationship and that it would never go anywhere. You were there to scratch his alpha itch.
It was an itch you managed to scratch without even trying.
He groaned and inhaled, pressing his nose to your neck. To your gland. "You smell so good now you're not covered in Nat's scent."
You hadn't even considered how wearing someone else's clothes would have covered your scent, but Steve's reaction was enough to completely settle any lingering jealousy you might have felt towards this Nat.
"You like my scent?" You asked softly, seductively. You wanted to feel in control, just like you had when you'd had his cock in your mouth, you wanted to take in the way that both of the alpha's seemed content to take from you, and if you had to play the part of the timid little omega? Then so be it.
His cock twitched in response and he pulled you closer, his hand daring to slip a little further up your thigh.
"I love your scent," he confessed. "When you're around, it's all I can think about..."
Heavy footsteps sounded from the hallway and you surged forwards, eagerly pressing your lips to Steve's as Bucky entered the office. His arm pulled tight around you and you let out a soft whine into Steve's mouth. A few seconds passed before Bucky cleared his throat and Steve tried to break the kiss. You chased his lips, not letting him get away, needily rocking your hips against his half-hard cock.
It took fingers tangling your hair to pull you back and keep you back, though Steve almost broke when he saw the way you were looking at him. Part of you wanted to continue, to grind on Steve's lap until he gave in — to do whatever you had to do to show Bucky that you would never be his.
"This better be good," Steve said, though his eyes never left yours.
You licked your lips, holding his gaze and revelling in how powerful his attention made you feel.
"You wanted to get me when it was time to go," Bucky said. "Unless you're too busy with your new toy..."
You tensed and Steve's arm around you tightened. He considered you for a moment but said nothing in your defence. "Bring the car around, we'll be out in ten."
"We?" Bucky repeated not even trying to hide his irritation.
"Just go get the car, Bucky."
You'd never heard Steve use such a sharp and commanding tone before, and you hated the way it made you want him.
"He's right," Steve said once you were alone again, "I shouldn't bring you with us."
"Where are we going?"
"The club." Why he made those two words sound like he was taking you into a warzone, you didn't know. You stayed quiet, letting your expression ask the question; why doesn't he want me there? "We're holding a meeting — there's going to be a lot of unpleasant people around. Other alphas."
It raised more questions but Steve didn't give you time to give voice to any of them. He lifted you as he stood, carefully placing you back on your feet but keeping his arms around you.
"It's not that he doesn't trust you, he just thinks it's a bit soon to be letting you near pack business."
"He doesn't want me here," you said bluntly, though you now had to wonder if his opinion on you had changed.
"Buck's just... stuck in his ways. He'll get used to it," Steve said, shrugging. "Anyway, he's got it wrong — I'm bringing you with us so after the meeting I can take you for dinner. It's not like I'm letting you in the room with any of them."
You weren't entirely sure your stomach would allow you to go that long without food, but you didn't turn your nose up at the gesture. Of course, you still had questions, but everything was already moving so quickly that you didn't think you could handle anything else. Besides, you wanted to be the doting and agreeable little omega that he wanted to ensure that he kept wanting you.
"So, what? You just want me to sit around looking pretty while you work?" You managed to force a smile at the joke.
Steve smiled right back. "Exactly. And, while you're waiting you'll have free run of the bar."
"And then you'll take me for dinner?" You asked, Steve nodded and you made a show of considering the offer. "Hmm, okay, I guess I can handle that but... if we're going somewhere fancy, I'm going to need to change."
Ten minutes was hardly enough time but, you figured, if you grabbed your make-up bag, you could always finish getting ready at the club. If nothing else, it'd kill time while you waited for him.
Fifteen minutes later, you were both faced by a very annoyed looking Bucky — though the way his eyes lingered on your dress suggested he wasn't as angry at the delay as he wanted you to think. He grumbled under his breath as Steve got into the passenger seat, leaving him to open the back door for you.
His hand brushed your waist as you climbed into the back of the SUV and you could have sworn you heard him inhale. You wanted to feel disgusted, instead...
No.
You didn't want to think about instead. There was no instead. Just like there was no heat pooling low in your belly and no longing ache between your thighs. Even as he caught your gaze in the rearview mirror, there was nothing. You fixed your eyes out of the window and made a point of completely ignoring him. This continued right up to the moment Bucky let you out of the car behind the club and finally disappeared, muttering something to Steve about making sure their guests weren't causing any problems.
"I'm gonna need you to stay down by the bar, okay?" Steve said as he slowly walked you inside. "And if anyone asks, you tell them that you work for me, okay?"
Your eyebrow rose, but you didn't question it. It wasn't your business. More to the point, you didn't want it to be your business. Whatever Steve and Bucky had going on was none of your concern, and you wanted to avoid anything that was going to attract Bucky's attention.
So, you soon found yourself sitting at the bar, making small talk with the bartender, a beta not much older than you. You made little comments about the club, asking what it was like to work there and if they had meetings like this one a lot. You got a lot of shrugs in response leaving you with the feeling that, whatever was going on in Steve's office, it was kept separate from the day to day running of the club.
If you'd cared to think about it, it might have been enough to make you wonder just what you were getting yourself into, but if Steve was happy to keep you out of it, you saw no reason to care. He'd made it clear what you were to him and what was expected, and you were fine with it. You were fine spending time as his unofficial omega if it meant you had somewhere to stay and didn't have to worry about money for a little while.
Besides, he was a business man, what was the worst he could be getting up to behind closed doors? Fraud? Tax evasion?
To pass the time, you started drinking your way through the cocktail list — though by the third drink, you had your suspicions that the bartender was watering them down. But, as it turned out, an open bar wasn't so fun when you were on your own in a nightclub with the lights up. In fact, it just made you feel lonely.
And that was something you'd never really felt with Rick, not that you were about to start mourning the loss of your relationship or waxing philosophical about it or anything. It was just... strange. He'd never really left you alone. He'd always wanted you next to him, so people could see you. Or, so people could look at him and think wow that beta managed to snag an omega.
Fuck. Maybe Bucky had been right, maybe Rick had just wanted to own you.
(Well tough shit, he doesn't get us, that little voice in the back of your head sang, we've got our alphas now.)
Knocking back your Tequila Sunrise, you got to your feet, determined to ignore that particular thought. Though the wary look the bartender shot you had questioning. Had she been told to watch you? Keep you out of the way? Were you being babysat?
"Just going to fix my make-up," you told her, but didn't wait to hear whatever was on the tip of her tongue. It wasn't like you were going to cause any trouble; you just wanted to go get ready for dinner with Steve.
You took your time, wanting things to be just right. It had been a weird day and you really wanted to just draw a line under the whole thing and start again tomorrow. Tonight, you were going to show Steve just how good your arrangement could be, and you were going to make sure there were no doubts in his mind about you.
And you were going to do everything you could to forget all about Bucky.
Once your make-up was perfect and your hair was just right, you spent a minute trying to get your dress to sit right over the bra you'd chosen — a bra that, honestly, you shouldn't have bothered with because it was uncomfortable as hell, but it was cute and lacy and you thought Steve would appreciate it.
Twenty minutes had passed and you were starting to worry that someone would be sent to find you so, after one last look in the mirror, you left the bathroom.
You were so busy trying to get your bra strap untwisted that you walked straight into something. Someone. An arm wrapped around your waist and your fingers gripped a dark suit jacket. And —
The scent hit you immediately.
Alpha.
But not one of your alphas.
"Hello," a harsh New York accent said.
It was enough to pull you back to the moment, letting go of his jacket and slipping from his grasp. Your head tipped back as you took in the sight of the alpha; tall, slender but athletic, dressed in a suit that was probably worth more money than you'd ever see in your life, and irises so dark that they almost appeared black.
He was handsome. Pretty. Good looking in a different way to Steve and Bucky.
But, unlike Bucky and Steve, this alpha didn't spark anything inside of you. Sure, you stood a little taller and found it hard to tear your gaze from his, but he didn't make you feel like you were one second away from losing all control. Was he somehow different to them — or was it them?
"Where's Rogers been keeping you?" He asked.
Finally you blinked and regained your composure. "Sorry, I —"
"Don't apologise. I wasn't watching where I was going," he interrupted, an easy smile on his lips. This alpha was trouble, the kind that could talk anyone into opening their legs for him, but you didn't feel the urge to let him, not like you did with your alphas. "What brings a pretty little thing like you to a dump like this?"
"I work here," you answered, remembering the lie you'd been asked to spew.
"I've never seen you here before." His eyes travelled down your body, taking in your outfit — the short dress didn't exactly scream bartender. "Then again, this isn't exactly my kind of place..."
No, judging from the look of him, the alpha was more upmarket than some nightclub.
"If you ever want a job that pays better, give me a call," he said, smoothly pulling a business card from his pocket and offering it to you.
"Anvil," you repeated the name and silently took note of his. William Russo. "Private security?"
"That's —"
A familiar scent filled the air and the hairs on your neck stood on end.
"Is he bothering you?" Bucky asked, leaving some space between you, but still standing close enough to cause an eager longing inside you. "You bothering her, Russo?"
"Wouldn't dream of it, Barnes," he said, standing a little straighter, making sure you saw that he was the taller of the pair.
(Mhmm the alpha's are preening, your hindbrain pointed out.)
The other alpha spared you one last look before shrugging and walking away. Bucky stayed exactly where he was but didn't say anything for almost thirty seconds.
"What did he want?"
"What do you care?" You shot back, instantly annoyed by him and his presence. "Don't tell me you're jealous, after —"
"I've got nothing to be jealous of," he stopped you before you could say the words. "I just wanna make sure you're not talking to anyone you shouldn't."
"You don't get to decide who I talk to." You took a step, wanting to walk away from whatever this was.
Bucky moved, grabbing you by the arm and pushing you back against the wall. His body pressed against you, holding you in place, practically smothering you in his scent. You could feel every rise and fall of his chest against yours, hear every sharp breath he took. Fingers twitched at your side, touching but not quite grasping your hip, like he was fighting against himself.
"You don't talk to him," Bucky said, his voice turning low. "You don't talk to any other alphas."
"I'm not yours."
"Yes you are."
You shook your head and bit back a callous laugh. "What happened earlier was a mistake. It's not gonna happen again."
Bucky practically snarled as he leaned closer, his lips so close to yours then —
He stepped back the moment he heard Steve calling your name and, before you could even think to tell him to go fuck himself, he was storming off in the opposite direction.
Steve was waiting by the bar when you returned. "There you are," he said. "I sent Bucky to find you, did he not —"
"I was in the bathroom, I've not seen anyone," you shrugged as you moved to his side, not wanting to talk about Bucky.
Steve pulled you into his arms and pressed a possessive kiss to your forehead. "You ready to go?"
You nodded and were quickly spirited away for an evening of food, wine, and sex.
A/N : Thanks so much to everyone who has been patiently waiting for this. Those who haven't... well, I don't have much to say to you. Anyway, yes, I had to throw my bb Billy Russo in as a little easter egg and, yes, he'll probably be back, hope all my fellow Billy fans are happy about that. I think I got everyone who asked to be tagged on the last part, if not, let me know!
Again, there's no set upload schedule for this one, but there is a tag list or you can subscribe to the story on Ao3.
As always I love and appreciate every like/comment/reblog and keyboard smash of love. Thanks so much for reading! Hope you all have a great week!
summary: she was too sweet to forget, so he convinced himself that sweetness had turned sickly with time. Until they he discovers that he never stopped craving the taste.
content warnings: angst, alcohol consumption, use of y/n, smut, slight praise kink, edging, unprotected sex, female receiving oral, pet names (baby), language!
11k+ words
main masterlist
(i wrote at like 3am when I couldn’t sleep, I haven’t reread it so sorry if it makes literally no sense)
⋆.˚ ☾⭒.˚
I just miss your accent and your friends
Did you know I still talk to them?
Cherry || Harry Styles
⋆.˚ ☾⭒.˚
Bucky hates cherries. The sharp, sticky taste and the sickly smell of them turned his stomach, and Yelena seemed to take an unreasonable amount of pleasure in reminding him of it whenever she got the opportunity.
He watched from the kitchen, the coffee machine whirring in the background, Yelena sat by the window, one leg tucked beneath her as she lazily picked cherries from the punnet balanced on her thigh. Every few seconds she would pop another into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully as she stared out at the city beyond the glass.
He tried to walk past her without comment.
The moment he came level with her, she lifted the punnet towards him, holding the plastic tub up near his face, an innocent little smile as she offered him the fruit.
Bucky recoiled immediately. He ducked away from the offer, his shoulders pulling back and his face twisting as the smell reached him.
Yelena stared at him for a moment before breaking into a delighted laugh.
“What are you doing?” she asked, looking at him as though he’d suddenly lost his mind. “It is a cherry, not a bomb.”
“I just don’t like them,” he grunted, already moving away from her.
He dropped into the chair opposite, putting as much distance between himself and the punnet as possible. His coffee was still in his hand, and he lifted it towards his face, taking a long drink as though the bitterness might somehow overpower the lingering memory of sweetness in the air.
Yelena watched him over the edge of the punnet.
Before she could probe further into his fear, the sound of footsteps approached from the hallway. Ava appeared in the doorway with a small collection of letters in her hand. She didn’t announce herself or offer any explanation; she simply crossed the room and held one of the envelopes out towards Bucky.
He frowned slightly as he took it.
Ava was already turning away before he’d even had the chance to thank her, disappearing back into the corridor without another word.
Bucky looked down at the envelope in his hand. The handwriting immediately caught his attention.
It was neat and deliberate, written in elegant cursive across the front in black ink.
James Buchanan Barnes.
His thumb traced absently along the edge of the envelope before he opened it.
Yelena’s attention shifted towards him almost immediately.
Nobody got mail at the Tower. Not personal mail, anyway. There were deliveries, reports, documents and the occasional piece of paperwork Val had decided needed to exist in triplicate, but nobody ever received a handwritten letter addressed to them like that.
She watched Bucky unfold the thick cream card inside.
His eyes moved over the first few lines.
You are cordially invited to celebrate the wedding of Brandi and Carl,
He stopped.
It was subtle enough that somebody who didn’t know him might not have noticed. His expression barely changed, but his fingers tightened slightly around the invitation, and something in his posture seemed to draw inward.
He didn’t finish reading.
Instead, he carefully folded the card back along its original crease and slipped it into the envelope before placing it face down on the coffee table.
Yelena tilted her head.
“Bad news?”
“Wedding invitation.”
“Who for?”
Bucky glanced at her.
“Old friends.”
His answer came quickly, almost too quickly, and Yelena’s eyes narrowed with interest.
She had learned a great deal about Bucky in the time she’d known him. More than he probably realised. He was not somebody who volunteered information about himself, and the more he wanted a subject left alone, the shorter his answers became.
Yelena had also learned that short answers rarely meant there was nothing to say. Usually, they meant there was far too much.
“You gonna go?” she asked casually.
Bucky looked at her again, his brows drawing together. “No.”
Yelena can practically see his defence go up. His walls raising quickly to block her from digging into his feelings.
“Why?”
His jaw tightened. He held her gaze for another moment, clearly deciding whether arguing with her was worth the effort. Apparently it wasn’t, because he simply pushed himself to his feet, picking up his coffee from the arm of the chair.
“Drop it, Yelena.”
He walked towards the hallway, leaving the letter sitting on the coffee table behind him.
Yelena watched him go. She waited until he disappeared around the corner before looking back at the discarded paper.
Her curiosity had been bothering her since the moment she’d seen his expression, and now that he’d specifically told her to leave it alone, she found herself almost incapable of doing anything else.
She placed the punnet of cherries down and leaned across the table, picking up the abandoned envelope.
“Whoops,” she murmured when she noticed the faint red marks her fingers had left across the cream paper.
She wiped her hands against her thigh before carefully pulling the invitation free from the envelope.
Her eyes moved over the names.
Brandi and Carl.
She knew those names.
It took her a moment to place them, but then the memories surfaced.
She remembered seeing them around Bucky months ago, back when things had been different.
She knew there had been double dates with them, nights out, photographs that had occasionally appeared on somebody’s phone, and stories about the ridiculous things Carl had said after too many drinks.
Most importantly, Yelena remembered Bucky during that period.
He had been different.
Not necessarily happier in any obvious, exaggerated way. Bucky had never been particularly good at showing happiness, and even then there had always been something guarded about him. But there had been a softness to him that Yelena rarely saw anywhere else. His shoulders hadn’t always been drawn tight, his expression hadn’t constantly carried the weight of a hundred thoughts, and every now and then she had caught him smiling without seeming to realise he was doing it.
It had always happened around her.
Yelena remembered noticing it whenever, y/n was stood beside him.
Bucky could be difficult with almost everyone. He was stubborn, sarcastic and perpetually irritated by something, whether it was the people around him, the world outside the Tower or simply the fact that someone had decided to speak to him before he’d finished his coffee.
But when y/n was beside him, something changed. He seemed lighter.
There had been a gentleness in the way he looked at her, an ease in the way he stood beside her, as though having her there gave him permission to put down some of the things he carried when nobody else was watching.
Six months ago was the last time she had seen y/n wandering through the halls of the Tower.
And that was how long it had been since they had broken up. In those six months, Bucky had slowly become someone she recognised from before.
The warmth had disappeared.
He had started spending more time alone, returning to old habits with an almost unconscious determination. His shoulders were permanently hunched now, his expression more distant, his patience thinner. He was colder, quieter, harder to reach.
It was as though whatever part of him had been allowed to breathe while she was around had slowly been pulled back behind his walls.
Yelena’s fingers tightened slightly around the invitation.
She looked towards the corridor where Bucky had disappeared, her expression becoming more thoughtful.
Brandi and Carl weren’t just old friends. They belonged to a part of Bucky’s life that had existed when he was with her.
Judging by the way he’d looked at that invitation, Yelena had a feeling the wedding was going to force him to confront considerably more than whether or not he wanted to attend.
Yelena hadn’t mentioned the invitation to Bucky. Not after she had secretly read it, and certainly not after she had watched him tear it in half and throw it into the bin the following morning.
Not due to lack of trying, but since that morning she had barely seen him around. Bucky became almost impossible to find.
He hadn’t officially disappeared from the Tower, but he may as well have. Yelena would occasionally catch sight of him emerging from the gym, usually with sweat darkening the collar of his shirt and a towel thrown over one shoulder, before he disappeared straight back towards his room. He avoided the kitchen whenever everyone else was there, ate at strange hours and stopped joining the others in the living room in the evenings.
The closer the date came, the more he seemed to retreat into himself. This wedding had brought y/n back to the forefront of his mind, she could tell this all just from the thunderous frown on his face.
It had been six months since the breakup. Six months since Bucky had ended things.
Yelena didn’t know why things ended. She had never asked him directly, partly because she knew better than to corner Bucky when he wasn’t ready to talk and partly because she had seen enough of him afterwards to know that whatever his reason had been, it hadn’t been an easy decision.
But she knew one thing. Y/n hadn’t been the one to walk away, Yelena had learnt that she was deeply loyal and even deeper in love. She had never heard them argue, until that night, hearing y/n crying calling Bucky a coward before storming out the tower to never be seen since.
That was what made his behaviour over the last few weeks so difficult to understand. He wasn’t running from somebody who had hurt him. He was running from somebody he had hurt himself.
By the time there was only a week till the wedding, Yelena found him in the gym.
The heavy punching bag swung violently from its chain, the metal creaking and groaning above him as Bucky drove another fist into it. His movements were usually controlled when he trained, each strike deliberate and measured, but there was very little discipline in what he was doing now. He was hitting the bag with the kind of relentless force that suggested he wasn’t really trying to improve anything anymore.
He was trying to exhaust himself.
His breathing had become rougher, his shoulders tense beneath his shirt, and the wraps around his knuckles were already beginning to darken where the skin beneath them had split.
When Yelena stepped into the room, he noticed her almost immediately.
His fist stopped against the bag, and he glanced over his shoulder at her with an expression that told her he already knew exactly why she had come.
He rolled his eyes, released the punching bag and walked towards the bench, reaching for his water bottle and taking a long drink.
“Don’t start.”
Yelena hadn’t even spoken.
She stopped a few feet away, watching the faint irritation settle across his face. There was something almost amusing about how quickly he could read her. He knew that look in her eyes, knew the particular glint that appeared whenever she had decided there was something worth investigating, and he had apparently decided that the safest course of action was to shut her down before she had the opportunity.
Yelena raised both hands beside her head in surrender.
“I said nothing.”
“You’re thinking.”
“I am always thinking.”
“That’s what worries me.”
A smile tugged faintly at the corner of her mouth, but she didn’t answer.
Instead, she sat down on the opposite bench and began wrapping her knuckles, taking her time with each strip of tape. Bucky watched her suspiciously for a moment before turning back towards the punching bag.
He started again.
For several minutes, the only sounds in the gym were the steady thud of Bucky’s fists against the bag, the occasional groan of the chain above him and the quiet rustle of Yelena’s hand wraps.
Eventually, she spoke. Bucky kept punching attempting to block her words out, reducing her voice down to a murmur. His fist connected with the bag again before he finally stopped, catching it with his metal hand as it swung back towards him.
“What?” Bucky grunted, giving up on blocking her out.
“I said you should go.”
He scoffed and released the bag.
Yelena continued wrapping her hand.
“They clearly want you there. Brandi and Carl invited you, and they’re your friends too. Whatever happened between you and y/n obviously hasn’t changed the way they think about you, otherwise you wouldn’t have received an invitation in the first place.”
Bucky looked away.
“So, I think you should go.”
“It’s not that easy.”
The answer was quiet enough that Yelena almost missed it. She looked up.
Bucky was staring at the floor, his hands resting against his hips.
“I haven’t seen them,” he said. “I haven’t seen her since we broke up.” His jaw tightened. “She told me she never wants to see me again.”
He let the sentence disappear. Yelena studied him. There was no bitterness in his voice when he spoke about y/n . No resentment, no attempt to justify himself. Just guilt.
“You broke up with her,” Yelena said quietly.
Bucky’s eyes flicked towards her. It wasn’t a question. He gave a small nod. “I did.”
Yelena leaned back against the bench, thinking, you could practically hear her mind turning.
“Okay,” she said eventually. “So avoid her.”
Bucky looked at her.
“From what I remember, Brandi and Carl were very popular. There will be a lot of people there. It will be a big wedding. You can stand on the other side of the room and avoid her.”
Bucky shook his head.
“You don’t understand.”
Yelena was about to argue, but the words stopped before they reached her.
Because suddenly she did understand. Not the reason he’d ended things. That was still a mystery, and judging by the way Bucky shut down whenever the subject came close, Yelena suspected it was one he wasn’t ready to share.
But she understood why he was afraid of seeing y/n.
She had watched him around her. She had seen the way his entire demeanour changed whenever y/n entered a room. Bucky could have spent hours convincing himself that he had made the right decision, could have walked away from their relationship because he believed it was something he had to do, could even force himself to believe that six months was long enough to move on.
But none of that would matter when she was standing in front of him.
His attention would always find her. He didn’t even seem to realise he was doing it.
Yelena had watched his shoulders relax whenever y/n touched him, had seen his voice soften whenever he spoke to her, had watched the hard lines of his face disappear whenever she smiled.
There had been a gentleness in Bucky around y/n that Yelena never saw anywhere else.
It hadn’t mattered who was right or who had ended things. It hadn’t mattered that Bucky had been the one to make the decision. Whatever reason had forced him to walk away from her, it hadn’t erased what he felt. If anything, judging by the state he’d been in for the last six months, it had made it worse.
Y/n didn’t need to demand his attention.
She would always have it.
“Oh.” Yelena realised something that made the whole situation almost painfully obvious “You can’t avoid her.”
Bucky’s expression hardened. “I can.”
“No.”
“I can.”
“Bucky, if she is standing in the same room as you, you are going to look at her.” Yelena shook her head.
He didn’t answer.
“And if she talks to you, you’re going to talk back.”
His jaw tightened.
“If she asks you how you are, you will forget every reason you had for leaving.”
“Yelena.”
“And if she touches you,”
“Enough.” His voice was sharper now, but there was no real anger behind it.
She had seen the way one look from her could quiet him, the way her voice could pull him out of whatever dark place he’d disappeared into, the way he seemed almost instinctively drawn towards her whenever they were together.
She simply had him. And Bucky knew it.
That was why the idea of seeing her again frightened him more than he would ever admit.
He was scared that she would look at him the same way she used to, and every reason he had spent six months building around himself would suddenly feel paper-thin.
“You will look at her even if you don’t want to, you know you will always find her.”
“Stop.”
The word came quietly this time. There was no anger behind it. Only exhaustion.
Yelena’s expression softened.
She hadn’t intended to hurt him. She only wanted him to understand that pretending he could simply avoid y/n was pointless.
They both knew better.
Yelena sat back against the bench.
“You still love her.”
Bucky didn’t answer.
He turned back towards the punching bag and grabbed it with both hands, pulling it towards him until the swinging finally stopped.
“I came in here to work out.”
“I know.”
“So let me.”
Yelena nodded.
“Fine.” She didn’t push him any further.
There was no point. He hadn’t denied it. They both knew she was right.
Bucky had lost count of how many outfits he’d tried on.
At some point, he had stopped bothering to remember what he’d already worn and what he’d rejected. Shirts had been thrown across the back of the chair, trousers had been abandoned on the floor beside his bed, and at least three jackets had made it as far as his shoulders before he’d looked at himself in the mirror, decided he hated whatever he was wearing, and pulled the whole thing off again.
Every time, he had told himself the same thing.
He wasn’t going. There was no reason for him to go.
Brandi and Carl would understand. They had plenty of other people there, and he had already missed the ceremony anyway due to his outfit breakdown. There was no point turning up halfway through the evening, especially when he hadn’t spoken to either of them in months.
It would be easier to stay here.
That was what he told himself as he sat on the edge of his bed, elbows resting against his knees, staring at another shirt he’d just discarded.
Then he’d stand up and try something else.
Eventually, after another long look at his reflection, Bucky settled on an entirely black outfit.
Black trousers. Black shirt. Black jacket.
Nothing distinctive. Nothing that would draw attention. It was deliberate.
If he was going to do this, he wanted to be able to disappear into the crowd as quickly as possible. He had no intention of making himself noticeable, no intention of walking into the reception and becoming part of anyone’s evening.
He could arrive late, congratulate Brandi and Carl, stay long enough to make it look like he had made the effort and leave before anybody had the chance to ask too many questions.
He had spent six months avoiding the people he had once considered friends because seeing them meant getting too close to the life he’d left behind.
But Brandi and Carl hadn’t stopped being his friends just because he had broken up with y/n.
They had invited him. He couldn’t bring himself to ignore that. Bucky stood in front of the mirror one last time, adjusting the cuff of his sleeve.
He looked like he was going to a funeral. He almost laughed at the thought. Maybe that was appropriate.
He grabbed his keys from the dresser, slipped his phone into his pocket and opened his bedroom door.
He had barely taken two steps into the hallway before he nearly walked straight into Yelena.
She stopped.
Her eyes travelled slowly from his shoes to his jacket, taking in the fact that he was actually dressed for an evening out.
Then her face lit up.
“You’re going!?”
Bucky’s expression immediately hardened.
“If you say another word, then I’m not.”
Yelena’s smile only grew.
She mimed pulling an invisible zip across her lips, then threw away an imaginary key over her shoulder.
Bucky didn’t look back as he made his way through the Tower, down towards the entrance and out into the evening air, the cool breeze catching against his face as he stepped outside.
For a moment, he stood beside the car with his hand resting against the door.
He could still turn around.
He could go back upstairs, change into something comfortable and pretend he’d never considered leaving in the first place.
Nobody would blame him. But before he could give himself another reason to change his mind, he pulled away from the Tower and drove towards the wedding.
The venue was huge.
That was the first thing Bucky thought as he stepped through the entrance, his eyes moving slowly over the sprawling grounds beyond the old estate. He had expected a large wedding, but nothing had quite prepared him for the number of people spilling out across the gardens. There were faces everywhere, most of them completely unfamiliar, people moving between tables and clusters of conversation with glasses in their hands while servers drifted through the crowd carrying trays of champagne.
The ceremony had clearly been finished for some time. The evening reception was in full swing, taking place almost entirely outside beneath the darkening sky. Warm strands of lights had been suspended high above the garden, crisscrossing over the dance floor and stretching between the trees and the old stone building, casting everything below in a soft golden glow. Round tables had been arranged around the edges of the dance floor, their white linens scattered with half empty glasses, candles and elaborate floral arrangements, while music played somewhere near the far end of the garden.
Bucky stopped just inside the entrance.
For a second, he considered turning around.
This was exactly what he’d been afraid of.
There were too many people, too much noise, too many reminders of a life he had deliberately removed himself from. He could already feel the familiar instinct to find somewhere quiet beginning to settle over him, the urge to disappear before anybody noticed he had arrived.
Then a familiar voice cut through the crowd.
“Bucky?”
He looked up. Brandi was already making her way towards him.
Her face had completely changed the moment she’d seen him, the surprise quickly giving way to a genuine, almost disbelieving smile. She looked beautiful, still dressed in her wedding dress, the fabric catching the warm light as she hurried towards him.
“You came!”
There was so much genuine happiness in her voice that Bucky felt something twist uncomfortably in his chest.
She hadn’t expected him. Of course she hadn’t.
For six months, he had disappeared from their lives almost as completely as he had disappeared from y/n’s.
Brandi had been one of the people he’d spent countless evenings with during those two years. She had been y/n’s best friend long before Bucky had ever met her, and somewhere along the way, without him really noticing it happen, she’d become his friend too. And Carl even more so. They had folded him into their lives without hesitation, invited him to dinners and birthdays and holidays, made space for him at their table until being around them had felt almost as natural as being around y/n herself.
And then he’d walked away. From all of it.
“Hi.” Bucky gave her a small smile.
Brandi barely gave him time to say it before throwing her arms around him.
He hugged her back, one arm settling around her shoulders as he leaned down and quietly whispered his congratulations against her ear. She squeezed him tightly before finally pulling away, looking at him with the same delighted disbelief still written across her face.
“I honestly didn’t think you’d come.”
“I almost didn’t.”
She studied him for a second, as though she could tell there was considerably more behind those words than he was willing to explain.
Before she could ask, another familiar face appeared beside her.
Carl grinned as he reached out his hand.
“Jesus, Barnes. It’s good to see you.”
Bucky shook his hand firmly, returning the smile.
“Good to see you too.”
Carl gave him a small squeeze on the shoulder before glancing back towards the party.
“You’ve missed half the night already, so you better make up for it.”
Bucky huffed a quiet laugh.
Carl pointed towards the far side of the garden, where a fully stocked bar sat beneath another canopy of lights.
“Bar’s free. Go get yourself a drink. We’ll catch up properly later, yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Don’t disappear again.”
The words were delivered lightly, accompanied by a grin, but Bucky felt the weight behind them anyway.
He nodded.
“I won’t.”
Brandi gave his arm one final squeeze before Carl gently pulled her back towards the guests waiting to congratulate them.
Bucky watched them go for a moment, surrounded by people who clearly adored them, before turning towards the bar.
He had made it this far.
He had walked through the entrance.
He had seen Brandi and Carl.
Neither of them had looked at him with anger or resentment. They had looked at him exactly as they used to, as though six months of silence hadn’t been enough to erase the place he’d once held in their lives.
His eyes moved across the garden. That fragile sense of relief disappeared almost instantly.
He knew somewhere among the hundreds of unfamiliar faces, there would be one face he knew better than any other. He had no idea how long it would take before he found her.
He ordered a whiskey and stood leaning against the bar, hoping the burn of it would settle the restless feeling sitting beneath his ribs. It didn’t.
He finished one and ordered another. Then another.
None of them did much to ease the nerves twisting tighter inside him, but at this point Bucky was willing to try anything. It wouldn’t kill him to spend one evening letting himself forget exactly why he’d come here in the first place.
He was staring down into his glass when a man appeared beside him at the bar, ordering himself a beer and a cherry whiskey sour.
Bucky’s face immediately tightened at the mention of that deeply sweet drink.
The man caught the reaction, his eyes flicking towards him with mild curiosity before he gave Bucky a curt, polite smile. A second later, however, recognition seemed to settle over his features. His entire body turned towards Bucky.
“Holy shit.”
Bucky slowly raised his eyebrows. The stranger stared at him for another second.
“You’re the Winter Soldier.”
The name made Bucky grimace.
“I’m not the Winter Soldier anymore,” he corrected, his voice carrying the familiar irritation that always accompanied the name.
“Big fan.”
The man immediately stuck out his hand.
Bucky hesitated before taking it, but the man’s attention wasn’t even on his face anymore. His eyes had dropped towards Bucky’s metal arm, the polished metal just visible where his sleeve pulled away from the edge of his trouser pocket where his hand was tucked.
“Baby,” the man called, turning towards whoever was standing behind him. “It’s the Winter Soldier.”
Bucky’s attention shifted automatically.
And then the woman stepped out from behind him.
The breath left Bucky’s lungs so abruptly it almost hurt. For a second, he genuinely forgot how to breathe.
Y/n stood beside the man, one hand loosely wrapped around her glass filled with cherry whiskey sour. The warm lights strung above the garden caught against the silk of her dress, the blue fabric falling effortlessly over her figure as she stood beneath them.
Bucky stared. There was no disguising it.
His eyes moved over her before he could stop himself, taking in the familiar shape of her face, the way her loose curls framed it, the dress he had no business noticing as closely as he did, the way it fell over your figure. Six months of distance had done absolutely nothing to dull the effect she had on him.
He had spent months trying to remember why he’d walked away. Trying to convince himself that he had made the right decision.
Trying to accept that she hated him now, that she had every reason to, and that staying away from her had been the only thing he could do.
None of those thoughts survived the moment she looked at him.
Y/n’s eyes met his over the rim of her glass. She took a slow sip of her drink, never breaking eye contact. Her stare bitter and burning.
Bucky felt like he was choking.
The stranger beside him glanced between them, apparently noticing the way Bucky had completely stopped listening to anything else around him.
“I would say stop checking out my date,” he said with a half laugh, “but you would probably choke me with that metal arm.”
Bucky barely heard him. He couldn’t look away.
Y/n lowered her glass.
Her expression hadn’t changed much, but there was something in her eyes that told him she knew exactly what he was doing.
“Stop looking at me like that, Bucky.”
Her voice hit him harder than the whiskey ever could. There was a warning threaded through it, enough to tell him she meant every word.
But the way she said his name, it slipped so effortlessly from her lips, Bucky felt something inside his chest give way.
The stranger’s eyes moved between them, his expression shifting as he finally seemed to realise that whatever was happening between Bucky and the woman beside him was considerably more complicated than two people who happened to know each other.
“You know him?”
Y/n didn’t hesitate.
“No.”
There wasn’t even the smallest crack in her voice. She kept her eyes fixed on her ex boyfriend, her expression composed as she took another slow sip from her glass.
“Not anymore.”
Bucky’s fingers tightened around his whiskey glass, his eyes remaining fixed on her as though staring long enough might somehow undo what she’d just said.
“Y/n.”
Her gaze finally shifted across his face.
For one brief second, Bucky saw something underneath the coolness. Something that made his chest ache with the memory of a woman who used to look at him as though he were the only person in the room.
Then it disappeared.
Bucky felt sick as he watched the man’s arm wrap around y/n’s waist.
The jealousy was immediate and ugly, something he had no right to feel when he was the one who had ended things. He had been the one to make the decision. He had been the one who had walked away and left her devastated enough to tell him she never wanted to see him again.
So what right did he have to feel anything when another man stood beside her?
None. Absolutely none. Yet his hand on gripped the glass tighter, the tips of his fingers going white as the man fingers begin to trace over the dip in her waist. Bucky could’ve sworn he saw a grimace briefly move over your face.
Bucky couldn’t stop wondering who he was, how long he’d known her, whether he knew the way she took her coffee or the songs she listened to when she was sad. Whether he knew the little expressions she made when she was trying not to laugh, or the way she would always need a hand on Bucky when she needed to calm herself down.
Whether he knew her the way Bucky had. The thought made his stomach twist.
“Y/n,” he tried again, quieter this time.
She held his gaze for another moment. There was no anger in her expression anymore. That made it worse.
“Have a good night, Bucky.”
She slipped back into the crowd before he could find another word, disappearing between unfamiliar faces and bodies moving beneath the warm strings of lights.
Bucky watched her go.
His eyes followed her instinctively, helplessly, tracking the familiar sway of her hips as she walked away from him.
He caught himself.
His jaw clenched, and he forced his gaze elsewhere, disgusted with himself for staring when she had made it painfully clear she didn’t want him looking at her.
But it was too late.
He had seen her.
He had spoken to her.
And in the space of barely five minutes, every carefully constructed defence he’d spent building had come crashing down around him.
He had walked into the wedding telling himself he could survive seeing her.
He’d lasted five minutes.
Bucky took another drink of his whiskey, staring down into the amber liquid as though it might offer him some kind of answer.
It didn’t.
He was screwed.
Y/n had successfully avoided Bucky for the rest of the night.
Or, at least, she had tried.
Every now and then, across the crowded garden, she would feel his eyes on her before she even looked up. Their gazes would meet for a second, sometimes two, and every single time she would immediately turn away and make a beeline for the bar, ordering another cherry whiskey sour as though the drink might somehow dull the awareness of him sitting somewhere behind her.
It hadn’t worked.
Now, several drinks down, she had settled herself at one of the tables surrounding the makeshift dance floor, the warmth of the alcohol making the edges of everything around her slightly softer. The music carried across the garden, people laughing and dancing beneath the strings of lights, their shadows moving over the tiled floor.
Her attention eventually settled on Brandi and Carl.
They stood together across the room, seemingly oblivious to everyone around them as Carl leaned down to kiss his new wife softly. When they pulled apart, Brandi laughed, her hands coming up to his face as he grinned at her.
Y/n smiled.
She was genuinely happy for them.
They deserved this. They deserved the laughter and the dancing and the ridiculous amount of champagne being poured into glasses around them. After everything they’d been through, watching two people she loved so deeply find their way to each other should have been nothing but beautiful.
And it was.
But there was still a quiet ache beneath her happiness.
A tug somewhere deep in her chest as she watched them build the kind of life she had once imagined for herself.
A life that had been there.
A life she’d been so certain was hers.
And then, somehow, it had been pulled completely out of her reach.
Y/n swallowed, looking down at the drink in her hands.
She hadn’t realised how little she’d moved on.
She had convinced herself that six months had to mean something. That eventually the memories would become less vivid, that waking up wouldn’t immediately remind her of him, that she would stop instinctively searching for his face around her apartment.
She had thought she was doing better.
Sitting here now, watching Brandi and Carl kiss beneath the warm lights, she realised she hadn’t moved forward at all.
She had simply become better at pretending she had.
A shadow fell across the table.
Y/n didn’t turn around.
She already knew.
There was only one person she knew who could approach her so quietly that she could feel his presence before hearing him.
The chair beside her scraped softly against the floor as Bucky pulled it out.
Y/n kept her eyes fixed on the dance floor, her fingers slowly turning the glass between them.
“What do you want, Bucky?”
She didn’t look at him. It was easier that way. If she looked at him for too long, she wasn’t sure how long she could maintain the coldness she’d been carefully constructing all evening.
Bucky shifted in the chair.
“Where’s your boyfriend?”
He had tried to make the question sound casual, as though he were asking simply because he’d noticed she was alone.
He failed miserably.
Y/n let out a quiet scoff.
The nerve of him.
He had wanted out of her life so badly. He had been the one who had walked away and left her to pick up whatever pieces he hadn’t taken with him.
And now he wanted to know who she was seeing?
“I don’t know.”
Bucky’s eyebrows pulled together.
“You don’t know?”
“No.”
“Do you want to know?” Bucky asked, curious to how unbothered she was about her date.
That made her turn slightly.
Bucky had leaned forward, his forearms resting against his thighs as he watched her. His expression was carefully neutral, but y/n knew him well enough to see the tension beneath it.
She dragged her fingertips slowly across the tabletop, her nails making a faint scratching sound against the wood.
“No.”
Her answer was simple, but there was no hesitation behind it.
Bucky’s eyes moved over her face.
He noticed the slight glossiness in her eyes, the telltale softness around them that hadn’t been there when he’d first seen her. The alcohol had begun to settle into her system, loosening the edges she was normally so careful to keep sharp.
A gentle breeze moved through the open windows behind them, catching her hair and lifting it across her shoulders.
And then Bucky caught her scent.
Cherries. Whiskey. Vanilla.
It hit him with such familiarity that his chest tightened.
She had always smelled like that.
Vanilla musk and something sweet underneath it, usually cherries. He remembered it from nights spent tangled together on the sofa, from the mornings when she’d climb into bed beside him, from the quiet moments when he’d bury his face against her neck simply because he could.
Tonight, the scent was stronger, infused with the whiskey she’d been drinking. The drink she always chose.
Every one of his senses seemed to sharpen at once.
His eyes stayed fixed on hers.
His ears strained to hear her speak again, desperate for that familiar voice, desperate to hear his name in the same tone she used to say it when they were alone.
His fingers twitched against his thigh. He wanted to reach across the small distance between them, wanted to rest his hand on her knee the way he had done a thousand times before without thinking about it.
Instead, he curled his fingers into his palm.
Because she wasn’t his to touch anymore.
Y/n turned her body towards him.
Her back was now to the party, leaving the two of them tucked away from the crowd. For a moment, it felt strangely private despite the hundreds of people only a few feet away.
“He isn’t my boyfriend.”
Bucky blinked.
“What?”
“He’s not my boyfriend.”
Something inside Bucky loosened before he could stop it. He hated himself for the relief.
“Good,” he said, perhaps a little too quickly. Then, remembering himself, he added, “Because I’m pretty sure he was just giving his phone number to one of the bartenders.”
“Good for him.” Y/n shrugged.
Bucky stared at her.
“If you don’t like him, why did you bring him?”
“We’ve been on a couple of dates.”
A couple of dates.
He knew he had no right to care, but the thought of her sitting across from another man, letting him get close enough to one day call her his girlfriend, made something bitter twist inside his stomach.
Y/n watched the reaction cross his face.
“I was worried you’d bring someone,” she admitted.
Bucky’s eyes snapped back to hers.
“So I was covering all areas.”
There was something almost defensive in the way she said it, as though she had spent the entire evening preparing herself for the possibility of seeing him with somebody else.
Bucky stared at her.
“You thought I’d bring someone?”
“I didn’t know what to expect.”
“You thought I’d bring a date.”
Y/n’s fingers continued tracing absent minded patterns against the table, her eyes dropping to the amber liquid in her glass.
“Well, you made the decision to leave me so quickly,” she said, her voice deceptively light. “You might’ve already had someone new lined up.”
Bucky’s expression shifted immediately, he hated the undertone of self doubt in her voice, he’d never heard her sound like that before.
“I didn’t.”
“I wouldn’t have known if you did.”
“Y/n.”
“What?” she asked. “You left. You made it very clear that whatever we had wasn’t something you wanted anymore. I didn’t exactly have much say in it.”
“That isn’t what happened.” Bucky swallowed, his gaze dropping briefly to the table between them.
“Isn’t it?”
There was no bitterness in the question, which somehow made it worse. She wasn’t trying to pick a fight with him. She was simply telling him how it had felt from where she had been standing.
“Because from my side, Bucky, you made a decision one day and then my entire life changed.”
He looked back at her.
She gave a small, humourless smile, turning her glass slowly between her fingers.
“So forgive me for thinking you might’ve had somewhere else to go.”
“There was never anyone else.” Bucky’s jaw tightened.
The answer came so quickly that y/n’s fingers stopped moving.
Bucky held her gaze.
“There was never anyone else,” he repeated, quieter this time. “I did it for you.”
Bucky’s voice was quiet, almost lost beneath the music and conversation continuing around them.
“To keep you safe.”
A scoff escaped her, but there was nothing genuinely amused about it. She lifted her glass towards her lips, though she didn’t drink, using the motion to hide the way her expression had faltered.
“From what?”, a small laugh leaving her as though the idea was ridiculous.
Her eyes met his. “From you?”
“Yes.”
There was no hesitation in his answer.
“From me. From the hell that comes with everything I touch.”
He looked down at his hands, the words becoming increasingly difficult to force from himself now that they were finally being spoken aloud.
“I like being a soldier. I like trying to do some good, trying to make up for,” He stopped. The rest caught somewhere in his throat.
The anger in her face softened for just a moment as she watched him struggle with whatever he had almost admitted. She already knew what he was trying to say.
He shook his head and continued.
“And you hated seeing me get hurt.”
“That isn’t,”
“You did.”
“I hated seeing you get hurt because I loved you.”
His eyes lifted to hers.
“You wanted something that doesn’t come naturally to be,” he continued. “You wanted a normal life. Domestic bliss. Something safe. Something I can’t give you.”
Y/n stared at him as though she couldn’t quite believe what she was hearing.
“That isn’t fair.” Her voice had become quieter “That isn’t true.”
Bucky opened his mouth, but she didn’t let him interrupt.
“Actually, Bucky it’s a bullshit excuse to make you feel better for running away. Convincing yourself that it was right, blaming it on me, when it’s all in your head. It’s your fears that did this.”
Her eyes were beginning to glisten now, tears gathering along her lower lashes, but she refused to let them fall.
“I would never have stood in the way of you doing what you wanted. I never asked you to stop being a soldier. I never asked you to become somebody else.” Her voice trembled.
“You didn’t even ask me what I wanted. All I wanted was us. That was it. I wanted you. I wanted us. And you let that go so easily.”
“It wasn’t easy.”
“You make it look easy.”
He had no answer.
Y/n shook her head, blinking rapidly as she tried to keep the tears from escaping.
“You’ll fight for everything else, Bucky, but you wouldn’t fight for us.”
His hand moved across the table almost instinctively, reaching for hers where it rested beside her glass. His fingers were only inches away when she pulled her hand back.
“No.”
Bucky stopped.
“Y/n.”
“No, Bucky.”
She shook her head, her voice barely above a whisper now.
“You don’t get to do that.”
He stared at her.
“You show up here and look at me like that, like you love me.”
Bucky’s breathing caught.
“I do. I never stopped.”
“But you did this.”
She pressed a trembling hand against her chest.
“You did this to us.”
She pushed her chair back.
The legs scraped against the floor, drawing the attention of a few people nearby, but she didn’t seem to notice.
She stood, wiping quickly beneath one eye before the tear could fall.
“I wish you didn’t come here.”
Bucky stood too.
“I wish I didn’t have to see your face.”
The words were quiet, but they landed harder than anything she’d said before.
She turned away from him.
Bucky watched helplessly as she walked into the crowd, her pace quickening the further she got from him until the people between them swallowed her completely.
He had told himself leaving her was an act of love. He had convinced himself that hurting her once was better than allowing his life to eventually hurt her more.
But standing there now, watching the person he loved walk away from him in tears, he couldn’t help wondering whether he’d simply found a way to disguise his own fear as sacrifice.
He knew he shouldn’t follow her.
Every sensible part of him was telling him to stay where he was, to let her walk away because she had made herself perfectly clear. She didn’t want to see him. She didn’t want him following her. She had spent six months without him, and tonight he had only managed to reopen something she had clearly been trying to heal.
But his body moved before his mind could catch up.
Bucky followed her through the crowd, his eyes fixed on the glimpse of her disappearing between shoulders and unfamiliar faces. He caught sight of her again as she reached the entrance to the manor, the warm light from the foyer spilling across the stone floor as she hurried inside.
“Y/n!”
She didn’t stop.
Bucky quickened his pace.
He caught her just as she reached the far side of the foyer, his hand closing gently around her arm.
“Wait.”
He pulled her back, careful not to hurt her, but enough to stop her momentum.
Her body turned with the gentle force, and she nearly collided with his chest.
She immediately looked up at him.
For a moment neither of them spoke.
Bucky could feel her breathing, could see the remnants of tears still caught in her lashes, and the sight made his chest ache.
“Don’t run,” he pleaded. “Please. Just let me try to explain.”
“Do you not understand the irony of you asking me not to run?”
Bucky’s expression faltered.
Her eyes travelled up to his, and she hated how small she felt standing this close to him. He was so much bigger than her, still so physically imposing, but that wasn’t what made her feel small.
It was his eyes.
It was the way one look from him could still make her forget what she had been about to say.
It was the fact that, despite everything, some part of her still wanted to step closer.
She hated that he still had that kind of power over her.
“I know,” Bucky said quickly. “I know.”
His hand loosened around her arm, but he didn’t let go completely.
“Just listen to me.”
“No.”
“Listen to me.”
She pulled her arm from his grasp.
“You ended it.” She snapped, anger taking over from the hurt as her finger jabbed in to his chest.
Bucky went still.
“You wanted this.”
“I know.”
“So I’m not going to let you do this. I’m not going to let you play this push and pull game with me because you suddenly decided you don’t like the consequences of your own decision.”
“That’s not what I’m doing.”
“Then what are you doing? What happens next time?”
Bucky frowned.
“When it gets too hard again. When you decide you know what’s best for me. When you decide you’ve got all the answers without even asking me what I want.” Her head tilted sideways, anger radiating off her now. “Are you just going to leave again?”
“No.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do.”
“I can’t believe you,” she breathed. Her voice was a jagged mix of hurt and frustration, her chest heaving as she fought the pull of him. She was annoyed that he still had this effect on her, that her body was betraying her resolve even as she tried to push him away.
“I can’t believe,”
Bucky didn't let her finish. He couldn't. His hands shot up to frame her face, his head dipping down as his lips captured hers in a desperate, demanding kiss. Anything to stop her rambling, anything to prove her wrong and silence the arguments with the raw heat of his mouth.
She was caught off guard, a small gasp escaping her, but the shock didn't last long. Within seconds, she was kissing him back with a hunger that mirrored his own. One of his hands reached up, his fingers grazing her skin as he tucked a fallen lock of hair behind her ear. The softness of the touch hit her like a ton of bricks, a sudden reminder of the intimacy they once shared. It ripped her out of the kiss, and she pushed against his chest, pulling away.
“What are you doing?” Her voice was stern, shocked, and laced with a visible crack of emotion.
“I’m sorry,” was all he could manage to say, his voice sounding wrecked.
She looked at him, her chest rising and falling in heavy, uneven rhythms. She had no words, no way to express the storm inside her as she stared at the guilty man before her. Her eyes were conflicted, searching his. Maybe it was the deep, aching emotion, or maybe it was the whisky blurring her judgment, but she couldn't stay away.
Driven by a need she couldn't name, a weakness that took over when she looked into his eyes, she reached out and grabbed the lapels of his blazer, hauling him down to kiss her again.
Bucky groaned deep in his throat. His hands snaked around her waist, sliding down the small of her back before resting firmly just above the curve of her ass. He tasted the sharp burn of whisky on her tongue and caught the intoxicating scent of cherry vanilla perfume whisking into his nose. It was the scent he had craved for so long, the one he had tried so hard to teach himself to hate, only to find it was the only thing that could ground him.
Her hands slung around the back of his neck, pulling him closer, trying to merge their bodies. His hands drifted further down, squeezing a handful of her ass with a possessive grip that earned a loud, needy moan that skipped past her lips.
Hearing that sweet sound snapped him out of the intoxication of the kiss. He suddenly became aware of their surroundings, the foyer, the people passing by, the risk of being seen.
He pulled away just an inch, his hands still gripping her, their chests pressed tightly together. Her eyes looked up at him, flicking between his own, wondering if he regretted it, wondering why he had stopped.
“I can’t have anyone hearing you like that,” he whispered. His protectiveness flared, the thought of anyone else hearing those sweet, broken sounds she made for him made him feel sick with jealousy.
She pulled out of his grip, and for a second, Bucky’s heart dropped, fearing she was leaving again. But instead, she grabbed a hold of his hand and pulled him toward the stairs. Her heels clicked rhythmically along the floor as she led him upward.
As they crossed the landing, Bucky asked, his voice low and curious, “Where are we going?”
She turned back and gave him a knowing smile. “Maid of honor perks,” she whispered.
She opened the door to one of the most beautiful bedrooms in the building and pulled him inside by the collar. Bucky pulled himself together in an instant, spinning her around and pushing her firmly against the closed door.
Her body was trapped between the heavy wood and his massive frame. He leaned down, kissing her again with a renewed intensity. Her hands flew to his hair, pulling at the roots and earning a guttural grunt from him. His hands found the bottom of her thighs, hoisting her up until she wrapped her legs around his waist, clinging to him.
“Bucky,” she moaned into his mouth, feeling more intoxicated by him than any drink she’d had all night.
“Y/n?”
Both their eyes shot open, their heads whipping around to see her date sitting up on the bed, having just woken up from being passed out.
She slid slowly down Bucky’s body as his grip loosened on her thighs, her hands resting on his chest as she tried to catch her breath.
“What are you,” the date began, his voice slurring and confused.
“Out,” Bucky snapped. His voice was irritated, dark, and laced with a lethal edge.
“What? She’s my date, man.” the man said, stumbling to his feet.
Bucky stepped away from y/n, closing the distance between himself and the man in two predatory strides. He loomed over him, his presence suffocating.
“Okay! Okay, I’ll go!” the man stammered. He grabbed his jacket from the chair and scurried out of the room, shifting past y/n without a single word.
Bucky’s eyes remained dark, glinting with a mixture of raw desire and territorial possessiveness. He walked back over to her.
“You were going to share a room with him?”
“Bucky.”
“Does he fuck you like I do?“ he asked, his finger hooking under her chin, lifting her eyes so she had no choice but to look at him.
She didn’t answer, swallowing deeply as she trembled under his gaze.
He leaned down and kissed her, this time, it was less romantic and more driven by a desperate, starving want. He picked her up again, moving her over to the bed and laying her back.
Her stomach swirled with desperation as she leaned back on her forearms, watching him.
Bucky stood at the foot of the bed, removing his jacket and unbuttoning his shirt slowly, his eyes calculating exactly what he wanted to do to her.
He leaned down, holding himself up over her body, and kissed the sweet spot just under her ear. His kisses trailed down her neck and across her chest while his fingers worked to scrunch her dress up, pushing the fabric up until it rested under her hips.
He lifted his head and moved his body down to kiss his way up her thighs. His fingers moved her underwear to the side, sliding up into her slit to collect the moisture. He tasted her on his fingers, she moaned loudly at the contact.
Bucky’s tongue dragged slow and deliberate through her folds, the flat of it pressing hard against her clit before he sucked the swollen bud between his lips. Two thick fingers worked inside her, curling with every thrust so the pads stroked that spot that made her thighs shake. Her hips bucked up, chasing the pressure, but the second her breathing hitched and her walls started to flutter he pulled his mouth away and stilled his fingers deep inside her.
She let out a broken whine, the sound raw in the quiet hallway. Bucky kissed the inside of her thigh, lips wet, and spoke against her skin. “You’re doing so good, baby.“ His voice vibrated straight through her, making her clench around his unmoving fingers.
He waited until the pulsing inside her eased, then lowered his head again. This time he licked broad stripes up her slit, collecting every drop of slick before he sealed his mouth over her clit and sucked in a steady rhythm while his fingers started pumping again. She moaned louder, fingers twisting in his hair, thighs trying to close around his head. The tension built fast, her stomach tightening, toes curling, until he felt the first hard squeeze around his fingers. He stopped cold. Pulled his mouth off, eased his fingers out until only the tips remained inside her.
“Bucky, fuck, please,” she gasped, voice cracking. Her hips rolled, trying to force his fingers deeper, but he held them just inside her entrance, denying her the stretch she needed.
“You taste so good,” he murmured, kissing just above her clit, anywhere except where she was throbbing hardest. “Still so sweet.”
He waited, breathing hot against her, until her desperate movements slowed and the edge backed off again.
The third time he gave her more. Three fingers this time, sliding in with a wet sound, scissoring gently before he curled them hard against her front wall. His tongue flicked quick and light over her clit, never letting up, never giving her a second to breathe. She was panting, cursing, hips snapping up to meet every thrust of his hand. “I love hearing you.” He mumbled against her.
The orgasm crashed toward her so fast her vision blurred.
Right as her walls started to clamp down he pulled his fingers free completely and lifted his mouth, leaving her empty and clenching around nothing.
She slammed her palm against the mattress, frustration boiling over. “Bucky, please, I need to cum!” Her voice was ragged, half sob, half snarl. Her thighs trembled, pussy visibly pulsing, slick dripping down the curve of her ass.
He looked up at her from between her spread legs, lips shiny, eyes dark.
He moved back up to her face, kissing the corner of her mouth. “You want to cum? Baby, you should’ve just said.”
Bucky shoved his trousers down his thighs and kicked them off, the heavy fabric hitting the floor with a dull thud. He wrapped his fist around his cock and dragged the thick head through her soaked folds, coating himself in her slick. Every slow pass over her clit made her hips jerk, but he never gave her the pressure she craved. He lined himself up and pushed in one smooth, relentless thrust, burying himself to the hilt.
She cried out his name, loud and broken, the stretch forcing the air from her lungs. He felt perfect inside her, thick, hot, filling every inch like he’d been carved to fit her exactly. Her walls fluttered around him, trying to pull him deeper.
“Fuck,” he groaned his head falling against her shoulder, voice rough. He stayed buried for a moment, savoring the tight, wet heat gripping him.
Then he started moving. Slow, deep rolls of his hips that dragged every inch of his cock along her inner walls. Each thrust felt like a promise, like he was trying to remind her body who it belonged to. Her hands slid up his back, fingers digging into muscle, pulling him closer.
The rhythm changed without warning. His pace turned sharp and punishing, hips snapping forward hard enough to jolt her up the bed. The headboard thudded against the wall in time with his thrusts. He watched her face the whole time, eyes locked on every gasp, every flutter of her lashes, every time her mouth fell open on a moan.
“You’re doing so good,” he growled, voice low and filthy. “Taking every inch like you were made for it.”
Her orgasm built fast, the earlier denial making her hypersensitive. Her thighs started to shake. Just as she tipped over the edge he leaned down, lips brushing her ear.
“Cum for me.”
She shattered. The scream that tore out of her was raw, his name ripped from her throat again and again while her pussy clamped down hard around him. He fucked her straight through it, never slowing, riding every pulse and flutter until she was trembling and gasping beneath him.
His metal hand slid up from her hip and wrapped around her throat, not squeezing, just holding her there, forcing her to meet his eyes.
“Look at me,” he ordered, voice dark. “Did he ever make you feel like this? Did he ever make you scream like that?”
She tried to answer but the words dissolved into another moan. He kissed her hard, swallowing the sound, tongue sliding against hers until she was dizzy.
When he pulled back she managed, “No. Only you, Bucky. No one else since you.”
He brushed the hair from her face with surprising tenderness even as he kept pounding into her. The brutal rhythm never eased, but something in his eyes softened.
“You waited for me,” he murmured. “Good girl.”
“I’m yours,” she breathed, voice steady even as another orgasm coiled tight inside her. “No one else could ever touch me the way you do.”
He hooked one of her legs over his shoulder and drove in deeper, the new angle punching the air from her lungs with every thrust. She could feel him swelling inside her, getting close.
“I, I’m,” she stammered, nails biting into his shoulders.
“Wait for me, baby,” he rasped. “Just a little longer.”
He chased his own release with short, brutal strokes until his rhythm faltered. He came with a low groan, pulsing deep inside her, filling her with hot, thick spurts. He didn’t stop moving. He kept thrusting through his own orgasm, pushing his cum deeper, refusing to let up until her second climax crashed over her.
Her back arched hard off the bed. Her nails raked down his back, leaving red lines as she moaned his name over and over, voice hoarse. Her walls milked him through every aftershock until she finally went limp beneath him.
Bucky’s arm shook as he held himself above her. He let her leg slide down from his shoulder and lowered himself slowly, pressing soft, lingering kisses to her lips, her jaw, the corner of her mouth. She felt small and spent under him, and he kissed her like he was trying to put her back together.
When he finally pulled out, a mix of their cum leaked from her, but he didn’t move away. He stayed close, forehead resting against hers, breathing the same air while their hearts hammered against each other’s chests.
He moved his body off her and lifted her up, carrying her into the shower. “Let’s get you cleaned up,” he whispered.
The hot steam filled the bathroom, her body leaned into him, her legs weak and shaking, his arm gripping her waist for support.
He used her cherry body wash, lathering her skin until she was soapy and warm. He kissed her neck one more time once the soap suds had been washed away.
He helped her out of the shower slowly, keeping one hand steady at her waist as she stepped onto the cool floor. The warmth of the water still clung to her skin, leaving her cheeks flushed and her hair damp against her shoulders. He reached for a towel and wrapped it carefully around her, taking his time as he dried her arms and shoulders before gently running it through the ends of her hair.
There was something almost painfully tender about the quietness between them now.
After everything they had said, everything that had been dragged back to the surface between them, neither of them seemed to know what to do with the softness that had somehow followed.
Bucky helped her back towards the bed, watching as she sat down on the edge. He grabbed his discarded shirt from the floor, holding it out to her.
She slipped her arms into it, and Bucky crouched in front of her, carefully fastening the buttons one by one. His fingers moved slowly, almost deliberately, as though he was giving himself an excuse to stay close to her for just a little longer.
When he reached the final button, his hands rested briefly against her waist.
Their eyes met.
There was so much neither of them had said that the silence almost felt heavier than the words had been.
“Do you want to talk?” he asked softly.
“No.”
The answer came almost immediately.
She looked exhausted, but there was a lazy contentment in her expression now, the tension that had been wound so tightly through her finally beginning to loosen.
“I just want to sleep,” she added, her voice softer.
“Okay.”
He didn’t push.
Bucky climbed into bed beside her and settled onto his back, leaving a small space between them. He was careful not to assume anything, careful not to reach for her when he wasn’t sure she wanted him to.
Y/n turned onto her side, facing away from him.
Neither of them moved.
The room was quiet except for the faint sounds of the wedding still carrying through the distant walls, the music muffled now by the manor around them. Bucky stared into the darkness, his mind still moving through everything that had happened that night, unable to decide whether he was awake because he was afraid to sleep or because he was afraid that when he woke up, she might be gone again.
He thought she had fallen asleep.
Then he felt movement beside him.
Her hand reached backwards across the mattress, searching blindly until her fingers found his.
Bucky looked down.
He simply curled his fingers around hers as she pulled his arm to wrap around her. He shifted closer, closing the distance he’d deliberately left between them.
She relaxed almost immediately.
His face settling into the curve of her neck. The familiar scent of cherries, vanilla and warm skin surrounded him. It was almost enough to quiet every thought in his head.
He breathed her in slowly, his eyes closing as the warmth of her body settled against his. She fit against him with a familiarity that made his chest ache, as though the space she’d occupied beside him had never truly disappeared.
His breathing gradually slowed. The tension left his shoulders.
Just as sleep finally began to pull him under, he heard her voice, soft and barely conscious against the darkness.
“I love you, Buck.”
Bucky woke slowly, his mind still heavy with sleep, the warmth of the night lingering over him.
For a few seconds, everything felt strangely peaceful.
Without opening his eyes, his hand moved across the mattress. He expected to find her. His fingers searched through the sheets, brushing against the cold space where her body should have been.
His brow furrowed. He reached further.
Nothing.
His eyes opened. The other side of the bed was empty.
Bucky sat up immediately, his heart dropping as his eyes swept across the room.
“Y/n?”
Nothing.
He threw the covers back and stood, looking towards the bathroom as though she might somehow silently be there.
The room was empty.
She was gone.
Bucky stood completely still, his chest tightening as the reality settled over him. He looked back towards the bed, almost expecting her to appear again, to tell him she’d only gone downstairs or that she was getting coffee.
His shirt, the one she slept in last night, folded neatly over the chair.
She had taken the clothes she’d arrived in, but his shirt was sitting exactly where she had left it, carefully folded rather than abandoned.
He crossed the room slowly.
Beside the glass of water on the bedside table was a small folded piece of paper.
Bucky picked it up.
I meant it when I said I love you.
But I don’t know if I trust you.
Give me time.
His fingers tightened slightly around the paper before he carefully flattened it against his palm.
Bucky folded the note carefully and placed it in the pocket of his trousers.
He wasn’t going to chase her.
For once, he understood that loving her meant letting her make this decision for herself.
So he picked up the glass of water she’d left for him and stared at it for a moment, his throat tightening at the quiet thoughtfulness of it.
Even after everything, she’d still thought to leave him water before she left.
He drank it slowly.
She had given him a boundary.
He would respect it.
But as Bucky stood alone in the quiet room, the smallest, most fragile part of him held onto the only thing she had given him permission to keep.
People move out of the way for Bucky Barnes. His tall frame, wide set shoulders, defined muscles—you can feel the power off him in the air that surrounds him. He’s got a haunted past and seemingly permanent frown. He’s intimidating like no other member of the team—he doesn’t mean to be, he just is.
So today, when he marches through the halls of the compound, like a man on a mission, people moves. Groups of agents split like the red sea just to not obstruct his path.
Bucky just got back from a mission that went longer than planned. He was only supposed to be gone for a week… it’s almost been two. He was tired, dirty, crabby, and just wanted to see his girl.
You didn’t know he was coming home today, so you weren’t waiting for him outside like usual. As soon as he stepped out of the quinjet, he said, “Where is she?”.
“Hello to you too, terminator,” Tony quips sarcastically.
“She should be in the gym,” Nat interjects.
Bucky gives her one grateful nod, then he is on his way. Stomping down the halls ready to be home—the compound isn’t home without you.
His boots are heavy against the floor, a solid thud with each step. Eyes trained on the path in front of him. Once he reaches the gym, he enters it with a certain haste.
You’re not here. Sam pauses his reps, looking over at Bucky with a knowing smirk. “She just left,” he informs. With a grunt Bucky turns on his heel and is out the door.
Knowing you, you’re probably going to the kitchen for a little post-workout snack. He picks up his pace, determined to get to you. Muttering apologies to an agent he almost trampled while rounded the corner. “I just past her,” the agent calls out knowingly.
You pause in the hallway at the sound of familiar steps. You turn around looking at the empty hallways behind you, furrowing your brow as if that can help you hear better. The footsteps grow closer and closer until he comes around the corner.
As soon as his eyes land on you he feels relief. He stops, his face softens in a way that would shock people, and the tension in his muscles start to ease. “There’s my girl,” he exhales—all the fatigue and aches are forgotten.
“Bucky!” you exclaim in surprise, then set off towards him.
His smile grows wider. He lowers himself a little and opens up his arms, feet braced for impact. You cross the hall in seconds and leap into his arms—legs locking around his torso, arms wrapping around his neck. He absorbs your force easily, his stance doesn’t falters as he catches you.
“Hey, doll,” he murmurs into your neck, breathing in your comforting scent.
“You’re home!” you squeeze him tightly.
“Finally,” he exhales.
You’re still a bit sweaty from the gym, but Bucky doesn’t care at all. Just like you don’t care that he’s all grimy and needed a shower, like, yesterday.
You pull back to cup his face and kiss him. He hums happily in response, kissing you back. You faintly tasted blood, so you pull back. You look over his face with wide eyes. You find the source of the taste, which is a cut on his lip.
Seeing that makes you really take in his appearance—he rarely looks tired, and right now he does. “Oh baby,” you frown. Not wanting to hurt him, you unwrap your legs from his torso, but he doesn’t loosen his grip. Making your legs dangle with nowhere to go. “Baby, put me down,” you softly chuckle.
Bucky’s hold never falters. “Please not yet,” a quiet plea you weren’t expecting. The look in his eyes is nothing short of tender.
You carefully wrap your legs around him again. “Are you hurt?” voice laced with care.
“I’m fine.”
“Where are you hurt?”
“I’m a super soldier, a few scrapes aren’t gonna hurt me, doll,” he tries to reassure. His flesh hand comes up to cup your face, thumb stroking your soft cheek. “I’m just happy to finally be home.”
You lean into his touch, “At least let me clean you up?”
“Okay, sweetheart,” he punctuates his sentence with a kiss on your forehead.
Bucky doesn’t put you down yet. He carries you all the way to your room—his room is down the hall but he prefers being in yours. He sleeps in here every night, his toothbrush is in your bathroom, shampoo in your shower, he even has his own nightstand with his stuff in it—at this point his room just holds his clothes.
He finally sets you down on your bathroom counter, then goes to grab the first aid kit you have from under the sink.
You put a gentle hand on his chest to stop him, “I want you to sit.” He looks like he’s about to protest, but he gives in. Carefully he lifts you from the counter to place you on the ground, then takes your place. “Attaboy,” you give his thigh a squeeze before retrieving the first aid yourself, setting it aside on the counter.
You help him out of his jacket, then his shirt. He grunts softly which isn’t a good sign. “What’s hurting?”
“The arm,” he sighs, rolling his shoulder that connects to the prosthetic. A small frown pulls your lips, as you reach out to rub his scarred skin. One hand on the metal bicep, the other massaging the skin wear it connects.
“Wanna take it off?” You suggest. You know he can get a little insecure without the arm, which is ironic cause he gets insecure with it too.
He looks at you for a moment. Seeing the way you look at him, while caring for the part of him he hates most. He knows he’s safe to do anything around you. “Yeah,” he nods. He detaches it with a *click*. You take it carefully in both of your arms, moving into the adjoined room to lay it on the bed.
Stepping back into the bathroom you see that his head is hanging low, shoulders hunched a tad, like he’s trying to become smaller. You step between his legs and lift his chin with your knuckle, making him look at you. “Hi handsome,” you murmur with a tender smile.
“Hey doll,” he musters a small smile.
“Did that help any?” you ask, thumb running over the stubble on his chin.
“Yeah,” his voice just over a whisper.
“Good,” you hum. You lean over to place a kiss on his scarred shoulder. Bucky’s breath catches like it was the first time, like you hadn’t done this so many times before. When you meet his eyes again you can see the emotion, the exhaustion, the want to be cared for.
“Okay, baby. Here’s the plan,” your hands settle on his sides, right over his ribs. You feel each breath he takes. “I’m gonna disinfect your injuries, yes I know you have super soldier healing, but i’m not chancing anything with you.” That makes him start to smile. He’s told you multiple times he will heal perfectly fine without treating anything, but you don’t care.
“Then we’re gonna get a shower, apply some ointment, and i’m gonna rub your back. How’s that sound?” you hum, thumb stroking his side.
Each word makes him turn more and more into putty in your hands. Before you, the last person that cared for him so extensively was his mother. The exhaustion is helping with the emotion you cause him to feel. “That sounds good,” he whispers through a tight throat, a mist catching in his eyes.
Your chest tightens. “Baby,” you say in a hushed tone, wrapping your arms around him, hands flat against his back.
He tucks his face into the crook of your neck, hand coming up to grip the back of your shirt. “I missed you so much.”
—————
You are gentle with every touch. Gentle in a way that makes Bucky’s heart ache. Each dab of a cotton pad so careful, as if he hasn’t withstood years of Hydra torture.
When you clean his lip, you murmur, “A busted lip is kinda hot though.” Making him chuckle, deep and warm.
You help him shower. Washing away any reminders of the mission. His forehead falls to your shoulder when you shampoo his hair, your fingers massaging his head is something he will dream about.
You grab him some sweatpants he keeps in your room. Dressing him in that, and putting one of his t-shirts on yourself. Bucky feels all soft as you apply ointment to his warmed pink skin.
“Okay, bub. Go lay down, i’ll grab some lotion,” you nod to the room.
After washing your hands and grabbing your vanilla scent lotion, you step into the bedroom. Bucky is lying on his stomach—metal arm now moved to the floor.
“I don’t think i’ve ever missed a bed this much,” he mumbles.
You chuckle softly, “The bed and I are happy to have you back.” You move onto the bed, straddling his lower back so you can really focus on his shoulders.
You warm the motion up in your hands, before massaging them up between his shoulder blades and out to his trap muscles. Given by the moans and groans that came out of him, you’d venture to guess it hurt in a good way.
Bucky’s hand finds your calf, just holding it for any way he could reach you. Lightly squeezing it when you would rub the tortured muscles that lie under scarred flesh. You massage his back until your hands ache, actually you wouldn’t massaged until your hands fell off, but he could feel the way your fingers would twitch as they grew tired.
With a squeeze to your calf he murmurs, “Okay doll, you can stop.”
“Do you feel any better?”
He pushes up on his elbow, turning his head back to look at you. “You always make me feel better,” he says with a sleepy smile.
You smile, feeling a little flip in your heart. You lean down to kiss the side of his mouth you can reach. “So much better,” he adds. You add a peck to his cheek.
Bucky lets his head plop back down against the pillow. You follow suit after him, lying on his back like a shell on a snail. You wedge your hands between his chest and the bed, and lay your head between his shoulder blades. “I’m so glad you’re home,” you whisper.
You make him feel complete. The mission sucked, but man did it make coming home to you even sweeter. Your weight on his back, limbs clinging to him, is the best feeling in the world right now. And when you punctuate the end of your sentence with a sweet kiss on his shoulder blade, he thanks his lucky stars for everything it took just to get to you.
summary: you and charles decide to fake date to get back at your exes
fc: ariana grande
a/n: a bit late (mostly because i didn’t had any time nor inspiration) but finally here it is, a fic about THE 2024 monaco grand prix winner
—
liked by arthur_leclerc and others
f1.wags charles leclerc posted a statement earlier today confirming the end of his relationship with his girlfriend
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username NOOOOOO
username pls say sike pls say sike
username definitely not the way i wanted to start the weekend like
username so love is dead guys good to know 💔
username they were the it couple 😢
username im going to pretend i didn’t see this
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ynupdates it’s confirmed that y/n y/l/n and her boyfriend have broken up after fours years of dating
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username WHAT
username omg nooo😭
username why is everyone breaking up!!!
username i don’t believe in love anymore
username her best friend liked the post so it’s really really true i’m gonna cry 😭
username yeah also the sun posted an article saying that a close source to the couple confirmed it
liked by f1.wags, ynupdates and others
deuxmoi actor jacob elordi and actress charlotte berzatto have been spotted recently on different occasions going out on dates
tagged jacobelordi, charlotteberzatto
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username excuse me what?
username and who’s this charlotte girl? 🤨
username she’s an european actress
username charles leclerc’s ex girlfriend
username wait wasn’t he dating y/n y/l/n like two weeks ago? i’m confused
username girl they broke up where you’ve been 😭
username yeah but they broke up like five minutes ago this seems…
username i did not expect that
username not them breaking up with their partners to get together 😭
liked by carmenmmundt, charles_leclerc and others
yourusername new things coming soon who’s happy🫧💐
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username OMG WE’RE GETTING A NEW ALBUM
username you actually just cured my depression with this post
username mother has that post breakup glow
username we love to see it
lilymhe gorgeous! 💕
yourusername lilyyy💘
username the flowers???
username who send them!!!
username jacob elordi count your days
username charles in the likes?? 😭
username they’re friends chill
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charles_leclerc happy times 😁
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username pookie came back! 🫶🏽
username now what is charles doing in a music studio 🤨🤨
username he’s so hot just ughhh
username is that… y/n’s dog… ???
username nah
username now that you mention it i think it could be but idk 😭
username he’s so boyfriend coded
username y/n in the likes 👀👀👀👀
username this just keeps getting messier and messier😭
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ynupdates y/n has been seen recently on multiple dates with formula 1 driver charles leclerc
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username ma’am???
username well this took a turn
username are they actually dating or…
username i meaaan look at that third and last pic and ask again
username the lore on this four people is just endless fr 😭
username they’re so real for swapping partners just like that
username literally blink and you miss it
liked by charles_leclerc, lewishamilton and others
yourusername my new single ‘don’t wanna break up again’ is out now for all of you💘 i also sing it for the first time ever on snl tonight if you’re interested in that🫶🏽
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username YES NEW MUSIC FROM MOTHER
username this song ATE
username the queen is back i used to pray for times like this😭
lilymhe such a gooood song💓 (liked by yourusername)
username so you’re telling me THAT man used to turn up the volume of the tv to not hear her cry??? yeah he’s DONE
username i literally heard that and had to pause for a second because what???
username also her calling their relationship of four years a “situationship” 😭😭
username she’s so unserious i love her
charles_leclerc on repeat 24/7 ❤️🩹
yourusername 🤍🤍🤍
francisca.cgomes completely obsessed!💖 (liked by yourusername)
liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc and others
scuderiaferrari such a pleasure to have yourusername on the garage this weekend! 🫧
tagged yourusername, charles_leclerc
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username she looks stunning 🤩
username the pic with charles omg they’re so cute🥰🥰
username y/n in the paddock every race week please and thank you
yourusername tysm! forza ferrari❤️
username babes what other words in italian did charles taught you? i need to know
username dare i say new ferrari it couple?
username the fact that they haven’t confirmed anything 😭
username i mean you don’t really have to be a genius just a bit of common sense
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charles_leclerc keep the podiums coming🏆🐎
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username il predestinato does it again 😮💨😮💨
username let’s go charles 💪🏽
username yesss charles show y/n what you can do‼️
carlossainz55 nice race!👊🏽
username very well deserved podium, such a nice race charles❤️❤️
username the fact that he was looking for y/n the whole time he was on the podium 😭
username I KNEW I WASNT THE ONLY ONE WHO NOTICED
username no cause bro was looking everyone and once he clocked her the biggest smile on his face
yourusername congratulations! ❤️🩹
charles_leclerc ❤️
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f1.wags if there was doubt before there definitely isn’t anymore! charles leclerc and singer y/n y/l/n were spotted kissing at the after party of this weekend’s grand prix and leaving together
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username THAT SHOULD BE MEEEE
username don’t know if i wanna be charles or y/n to be honest
username joris and arthur liking this 😭😭
username i love that they’re together they just fit
username agree, a bit unexpected since their exes are also dating each other but still, they’re very cute💕
username okay i wasn’t a fan of y/n but i’m definitely gonna start listening to her now
username does this mean we’re getting happy songs from y/n about charles?
username omg girl I HOPE
liked by charles_leclerc, lilymhe and others
yourusername eternal sunshine (the song) is out right now with the very special appearance of charles_leclerc in the music video (❤️) and eternal sunshine (the album) is out next friday! 💕
tagged charles_leclerc
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username i’m so so proud of y/n this song is perfect! can’t wait for the album 🤍
username this is the first time she’s featured a boyfriend in a music video and i’m so down for it🥰
username they’re look cute together!
username them on the bts of the video 💞💞💞
lilymhe you’re perfect and this song is everything🤍
yourusername love love love you lils 💘
username who would’ve thought mr charles leclerc can ACT!
username “hope you feel alright when you’re in her” i gasped
username no because that took me by surprise
username okay but we got “i got a good boy and he’s on my side” so it brought me back hope
charles_leclerc so proud of you, mon coeur❤️
yourusername i love you charlie❤️
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charles_leclerc so so so proud of you my love❤️ this is the most amazing project ever and the fact that i was able to participate in any way brings me so much joy. you’re a musical genius and an incredible human being🤍 stream eternal sunshine☀️
tagged yourusername
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username if you look closely you can see me in the background crying
username this is- they’re so- i’m- 😭
username no but they’re so perfect for each other i could cry
pierregasly who would’ve thought you could act 🤣
carlossainz55 new skill for the cv 😂
username “a musical genius and an incredible human being” charles leclerc why don’t you just rip my heart out yourself
username she looks so pretty in the mv and they’re so good together💞 i’m so happy for them
username no longer a child of divorce THESE are my real parents🫶🏽
yourusername i love you and i’m very very proud of you too❤️🩹
| part one of manchild, fuck my life | spotify playlist 🎧
| pairing: charles leclerc x reader
| genre: f1driver!charles, sabrina!reader
| stefy's note: happy birthday to our boy maxie, can't believe he's 28 now and how better should we celebrate this than by me posting a charles fic for my boy, so enjoy :) (and this is also for @kantoraces as an early birthday gift)
| warnings: swearing, alcohol, manipulation of words (by the media), toxic behaviour (by the media), angst, hardships of a formula 1 driver, misoginy (by the media), mentions of make out, hateful comments (by fans, by media), theories (made by fans, by the media), cheating (mentions of it, by the drivers, by the media, by the fans), hardships of fame (for both), hardships of a pop star, hardships of a public relationship, flirting (mentions of it, by charles, by reader), minors dni
| face claim: sabrina carpenter
| word count: 4.1k
| INSTAGRAM POST - APR 21st.
charles_leclerc
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charles_leclerc Going home with the first thropy of the season ❤️ Hopefully many more to come.
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user01 first podium 2025 let's gooo
user02 idk red looks kinda fantastic on the podium
user03 forza charles
user04 well deserved 👏👏👏
user05 you did a great race 🙌 more to come
user06 so we're not talking about the rumours
| user07 oh those rumours
| user05 do you think it's true tho?
| user08 well we all know charles dating history
| user09 if they break up i'm gonna crash out
| user10 he won't cheat on her, he loves her too much
───────── ౨ৎ ─────────
The air smelled like adrenaline and champagne that hadn't been popped yet. The paddock buzzed with its usual frenzy. Camera crews. Engineers. Fans pressed against the barricades. But you moved like a ghost. Quiet. Composed. Too composed.
You wore a black cap pulled low over your eyes, oversized sunglasses, and a Ferrari jacket that clearly wasn't yours. Leo, your and your boyfriend's loyal miniature longhaired dachshund, trotted by your feet, the only one not noticing the side-eyes.
The gossip had dropped overnight.
"Subject: 16
Message: F1 driver had a lovely time down under with mystery woman while girlfriend was at home along with the dog."
In the Ferrari motorhome, Charles noticed the shift immediately. He sat beside you on the small leather couch in the hospitality suite, fingers brushing over your knee. Your eyes stayed on the floor. "You think I cheated."
"No. I think I don't know what to believe because you were twelve hours ahead, and I wasn't there. And now there's a stranger on the internet making me feel stupid."
"I didn't even leave the hotel except for meetings and dinner with the team. I can show you-" His words sooner than expected get lost in the explanation. The team dinner was when he got drunk. Maybe that's when it happened? Maybe he just forgot to mention it.
"You don't have to." Putting your hand over his reassuringly, finally meeting his eyes. You knew he'd never cheat on you. But the uncanny thoughts that he might were leaving you wondering. Wondering he might have done just that. He was with the team, there couldn't be a way that he would have done that.
"You still think i cheated." Defeated. That's how he sounded like. It was all too much to discuss this now. Not after he had just gotten the podium and he should be happy about it. Not having to talk about if he cheated or not.
"I trust you when you say that you haven't." Before he could turn away you catch his hand into yours keeping him still. Reassurance, that's what you both needed now. He needed you to believe him. You needed him to trust you. It was supposed to be simple. Not like this.
"Is just..." The whole situation wasn't how you imagined it would turn out. You'd just talk and things would be fine. But this isn't going well at all. Worse than imagined. You didn't need to talk too much to know that something was wrong.
"What is it Y/N? There's always something when it comes to you." His voice harsher than you thought. Letting go off your hand he gets up from the couch before he continues on the same tone, turning around to face you. "You come here as if you own fucking everything and demand answers. Not to mention that you also have the audacity to think I would ever cheat on you like i'm some kind of idiot."
What? What was happening? Did he just say that out loud? You knew his dating history was a rather complicated one with him moving on from girlfriend to girlfriend like he is changing his socks.
This couldn't be happening. Falling apart. Not now. Not after the rumours. Taking a deep breath before answering him you take a look at his eyes again. It was getting to him. The pressure. The car that doesn't seem to be on his standards. The team that doesn't listen to him. It was all too much for Charles.
Getting up from the small leather couch that now seemed to be bigger than you once thought it was. You knew that the only right thing to do is to help him calm down. He was crumbling in front of you eyes. From talking shit to you to trying to convince you that he is innocent. And would have never done such thing.
"I know you didn't cheat, baby." Taking his hands into yours as you interwine your fingers together, you finally see him get back to you. "I never doubted you for a moment. I just feel like an idiot because of strangers from the internet." Explaining the situation to him as well as your feelings you knew that he would understand you.
Strangers on the internet thinking that they know all about your relationship. Thinking they can just waltz into your relationship and spread out false information. This had to end.
"I'm not here for answers. I'm here because I love you." Wrapping your hands around his neck while softly playing with his hair in an attempt to calm him down. You were there for him. You meant every word of it. "I'm here because I know how much this means to you. I'm here because to support you. To be there for you."
"I'm sorry." Whispering against your hair as he wraps one his hands around your waist to pull you closer, he realized how wrong he was to assume that you would demand answers from him. To not believe him. He was an idiot to think that his girlfriend would ever do that to him. "I was an idiot to think that you would believe those fucking rumours. It's just so fucking annoying some people believe that kind of bullshit."
"I know the car isn't great but don't shut me out. Not like that." He was trying to shut you out so he could deal with the problem himself. This wasn't the right move to make. It wasn't necessary. "Don't do that. Not when it's like this."
Like this, when McLaren is pretty much leading the season. Oscar and Lando both using their privilige of having a fast car, while the rest of the grid struggles to find pace when there isn't. You just hoped Monaco would treat him better. That he would get the win he so hoped for.
Planting a kiss on your head was him as soon as he heard you say that. You knew that this was him lashing out unnecessary on you. It wasn't your fault that Ferrari couldn't meet his expectations. Nuzzling your head into his chest you let yourself calm down into his arms knowing that this was only you and him in this. As it has always been.
Taking his hands off your waist, he cups your face into his hands. His lips meet yours without any warning. The kiss isn't desperate. Is longing. He wants you. To know that how sorry he is. How grateful he is to have you as his.
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| INSTAGRAM POST - MAY 25th.
charles_leclerc
Liked by maxverstappen1, lando and 960,450 others
charles_leclerc P2 at home. Gave everything. Thank you so much for the amazing support, it means much ❤️
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user01 P2 on track. P1 in our hearts ❤️
user02 proud of you charles
user03 you did amazing
user04 when P2 is a bad day, we're proud of you 👏
user05 can we talk about y/n she looked amazing
user11 here before y/n likes
| user06 yeah sure let's focus on y/n and not him
| user07 she's his girlfriend move on
| user10 jealousy is a disease
yourusername so proud of you bby ❤️
| user08 the queen is back
| user09 your outfit was amazing queen
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Monaco. Redemption day. Or so you thought.
You knew perfectly well how much Charles cared about winning Monaco, probably no one else but you realized how important this race was to him.
First practice. Fastest.
Second practice. Fastest.
Third practice. Fastest.
Q1. Fastest.
Q2. Fastest.
Q3 was supposed to be when he was the fastest.
1:10.063. Pole fucking position. He did it.
The only one left on the track to be able to fight for pole was Lando. You knew that it would happen. He knew what would happen.
1:09.954. Track record for the circuit. The true pole position.
You trusted him that he could win, due to the change of the regulations fot the track. Having two mandatory pit stops would probably change the outcome of the race. That sadly wasn't the case.
Crofty's words echo through the speakers. "And now Lando Norris will be ticking off corners now." Taking a deep breath you try to focus on Charles hoping that it would be a last lap onder. "And they are iconic corners. As he makes his way to the Nouvelle Chicane. He hears the horns in the harbor. Herolding his win."
This can't be ending like that. Not after the build up it had. Not after Charles drove beautifully the whole weekend.
"Chased all the way by Charles Leclerc." Crofty's voice continues to be heard throught the speakers. Cunning as if anyone expected a difference. "But when Max Verstappen pitted, he took the lead on the final lap. A lead that he had earned all the way through. And every driver dreams of this moment of leading the Monaco Grand Prix."
"On the last lap. Lando will join the legendary winners of this race. Lando Norris wins the Monaco Grand Prix. He wins the race by 3.1 seconds." Crofty's wors echo though your wins as you couldn't believe what the hell happened. He wins because he has a faster car.
Not long after Lando crosses the line you hear Charles voice into your headphones. "Good job, I guess there wasn't much more we could have done today. It's a shame, but yeah. We tried everything. I guess...it's...I mean dissapointing." Defeated. Sad. Dissapointed.
The rest of what he said during the radio, you couldn't bother to focus on. Monaco, his home race, was the last straw of his hope. His hipe that he would win. He would win two times in a row.
You wanted him to win. You needed him to win.
Second place did not satisfy him at all, he would have felt the same as if he had finished last. There was only one thought in his head "he failed", "he let his father down", after his father's death he felt this way many times, but it was in Monaco, during the race on his home track, where he did not take first place, that he felt many times worse.
He knew perfectly well that his father was certainly proud of him despite everything, but... In the back of his head there was this one thought, not giving him peace. He failed. He failed to win his home race. Again.
It wasn't a surprise that after the race, he took you home. The thropy of second place hanging out in the backseat of the car, long forgotten. He was shutting you out. Not long after reaching the door of the apartment, he immediately sat down at the piano, hoping that this time music would bring him the long-awaited relief. The relief he so hoped that it would bring him back. It felt like there wasn't anything you could have done.
Laying down on the couch you couldn't get your mind off the fact that he was once again avoiding you. He was shutting you out. Letting him deal with it by himself. Different notes could be heard from the other room as you tried to focus on writing lyrics down in your diary.
This couldn't be happening. Getting up to talk to him you knew that this was the chance to talk him though it. "You did your best, baby. There wasn't much you could do. The car wasn't where it was supposed to be." You wanted to make him feel better. The only way you could. The every way you could think of.
Shaking his head and stopping from touching the piano tiles to continue the song he was jabbering on. His eyes meet yours and that is when you see the fire. He was mad. Mad at himself. Mad at the team. "You just don't get it, do you? I could have won if I had a better car. A fucking better team. It wasn't me who was wrong." Taking a deep breath, he gets up from the piano bench you were both seated on.
Raising his voice he continues on the same annoyed tone as before. "I was supposed to win, not to see Lando win. It was supposed to be me on the top of that step and now you just come in here to make me feel bad about winning." You haven't seen him like that. He wasn't screaming at you per se, but still.
This is it. You couldn't handle him talking to you like this. "You think I'm happy about the result. You think I'm happy that you couldn't win. You act like a fucking manchild now, making me feel bad about trying to be here for you." This was your last straw. You ignored the way he has been acting lately, blaming it on the team, but all along it was him.
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| INSTAGRAM POST - JUN 1st.
charles_leclerc
Liked by f1, maxverstappen1, lando and 987,621 others
charles_leclerc Goooood P3. The Saturday sacrifice was I guess the right choice at the end. Lucky with geh safety car at the end but we did a good job. We will keep pushing in order to fight better. ❤️
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user01 we're so proud of you charles
user02 another great result mate 👏
user03 what a race!!!
user04 bravo charles
user06 here before y/n likes
| user07 never liked lik bro
user05 so we're ignoring that his gf wasn't even there
| user07 chill bro, she also has a life, not evolving around him all the time
| user08 she could be there to support him
| user09 so she has to give up her career for him
| user10 y'all need to chill
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| INSTAGRAM POST - JUN 3rd.
yourusername
Liked by itsnicolewallance, charles_leclerc and 987,368 others
yourusername this one's about you!! "Manchild" is out this Thursday 6/5 8pm EST❤️
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itsnicolewallance i think it's about all of them...
user01 y/n here to save summer 👏
user02 oh we're sat.
user03 song of the summer otw
user04 GET HIM Y/N
user05 not charles liking the post
| user06 he fumbled a baddie
| user08 they broke up?
| user06 you don't even know
user07 she's a busy woman
user09 mother keepin us REAL fed
user10 IS EVERYONE BREATHING OK
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It all started with one of his brothers, especially Arthur, playing the song once at the team dinner. Just another pop song. Not long after the song started playing he caught the playful sarcasm you always had. The song mainly focusing on someone who acts grown-up in appearance but emotionally stunted, incapable of real accountability or communication.
Not long after celebrating with the team, he couldn't get his mind off you. And Arthur, his brother, wasn't helping him as much by playing the song on a daily basis ever since it was released. But he did help when it came to getting him tickets to your Barcelona concert. Thank fucking God for that.
This was his fifth or sixth time listening to the same song over again. Your song. The song you've released not long after the break or the break up. He couldn't be sure if you broke up yet or not. You haven't talked much, not that you should after what happened last time you did. He has been missing you. He got a podium but at what cost. Of breaking off what he had with you.
"Arthur, stop fucking playing that shit!" The trip from the restaurant back to the hotel was supposed to take twenty minutes. Twenty minutes. Currently both of the brothers are stuck in a traffic jam. "It's been ten minutes since you've been playing it. And at the dinner too." Groaning, he grips the steering wheel looking at the differeng cars ahead of him, not moving an inch.
"It's not my fault your girlfriend makes amazing music!" Arthur somehow excuses himself from the fact that he has been loving your music recently. He had always loved it, but not at much as this new song you put out. Nor did he know that his brother was your biggest inspiration for it.
His girlfriend? His girlfriend. Fuck. How good that sounded. Not that he has told anyone about the break you have been taking or that you have actually broken up. It was unknown whether you called it off or if he did. "Ex-girlfriend." Whispering, his eyes don't meet his brothers as soon as he says that. Out loud sounded even worse than he has imagined.
The silence set into the car not long after his confession. Your song still playing in the background, accompanying the stillness. As soon as the song loops, the irony starts to hit. Singing along to the song was Arthurs whispery voice while hoping that he would stop anytime soon. "You said your phone was broken, Just forgot to charge it"
"Whole outfit you're wearing, God I hope it's ironic" The soft tone of your voice could be heard from the sarcasm in your tone. Faster than expected his mind starts thinking about you. The way you used to laugh at his jokes. Mostly teasing him about his messy fashion style. It wasn't his best, but he was trying. It's the sarcasm that he couldn't get off his thoughts.
"Did you just say you're finished? Didn't know we started" Ouch. That hurt. You were known for the sexual jokes you have been making for the past year, either during tour shows or interviews, but this did not land with him. Such as a fellow Formula One driver Franco Colapinto you were open with your sexuality, as well as your sexual life with Charles.
"It's all just so familiar, Baby, what do you call it?" What do you call it? What would you call him? It's like you were in his mind without being here. His mind drifting back to the late-night ice creams runs followed by the soft confessions before falling asleep.
"Stupid" Fuck. He so was. He so had been. During most of the fights you had before the break up he would end up blaming you for his immaturity. "Or is it, slow?" Slow? This was a new one. Given that he is driving cars that go faster than two hundred miles per hour it would be kind of ironic to think about. Or maybe you were himting at something else.
"Maybe it's useless?" The refusal to say that he's sorry without qualifiers. The ego. His ego that seemed ro have destroy everything in it's way. "But there's a cuter word for it, I know" A cuter word for an immature guy like him? "Manchild" He remembered you calling him that in Monaco before packing to leave. Go to your best friends house.
"Why do you always come running to me?" You were there when he needed you. But when you needed him, he was nowhere to be found. "Fuck my life" And here's that beautiful high note, he heard you sing the same day he lost Monaco. Even the same day he lost you.
"Won't you let an innocent woman be?" Why won't he let you be? Why wouldn't he do just that? Clearly you were better off without him. "Never heard of self care" Now this was hitting too close to home. Fuck it. He pissed you off to result in you making a song about him.
"Half your brain just ain't there" Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Now that was a close one. He wasn't stupid or at least that's what he thought. He was definitely stupid when it came to your relationship. That was a given. Not long after the first verse ended he found himself being reminded that he was going to the hotel. The hotel you stayed together the year prior. But this time he was alone. But with his brother to keep him company.
By the time the traffic starts to clear, he knows that he made the right choice of getting a ticket to your concert. He needed to make sure that you knew how much he missed you. He missed everything about you. Ever since you left the Monaco apartment, his life hasn't been the same.
A reassuring hand of his shoulder, takes him off his thoughts as he is reminded once again that he isn't alone in this mess. His hands are no longer gripping the wheel agressively, but he is more relaxed now.
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| INSTAGRAM POST - JUN 8th.
yourusername
Liked by charles_leclerc, lando and 987,360 others
yourusername Primavera ❤️ España te amo te amo te amo
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user01 charles fumbled so hard lmao
user02 YESS GIRL KEEP THE CURLS
user03 the new fits are everything
user04 MANCHILD SUCH A PERFORMANCE
user05 no way charles was in the crowd
| user06 first row don't forget that
| user07 awww this is taking me from when they first started dating
| user09 the juno arrest ICONIC
| user08 he better win her back
user10 charles is begging on his knees to get her back
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"Wow." It wasn't until you changed your outfit that you finally saw him or even caught a glimpse of him. Front row, just like the night you met. His messy hair that you would fix whenever you had the time. His sleepy eyes that gave off more than they should, showing that he hasn't been sleeping properly for some time.
"Oh my goodness." Taking a deep breath after the exhausting performance of Couldn't Make It Any Harder and Feather. "I really see so many beautiful faces in this crowd tonight." Walking slowly by the front of the stage as you keep looking at the faces from the crowd, consequently ignoring Charles.
Seeing that some of the fans brought signs that either tell you to play a song or some with dirtier requests. "Dirty signs from you up front too. Damn." Giggling a bit as you said that, familiar with these types of sighs during your concerts or tour.
This is it. This was the moment to finally talk with him or not so. The back up dancers joining you from the back. "You know what's crazy about a festival?" The cheers from the crowd answering the question for you. Holding the microphone closer to your mouth as you fix your now curly hair in the process as you continue. "I did not expect you guys to be so decked out." Further explaining what you meant by that. "And so covered in kisses and your merch, and your costumes and your themes shirts. Everything is just so..." Before you could add more onto that the crowd cheers stopped you as you couldn't believe that you were finally here.
"I feel like I could fall in love with someone in this crowd. Do you know where this is going?" Your eyes drfiting to your arrest victim in question, Charles. He might have known that this would happen and came prepared.
Crutching down on the stage, your eyes meet his after the fight. You missed him. You would have lied to yourself if you didn't accept that you did. "What's your name beautiful?" You ask him in the most cunning yet girly voice possible. It was like meeting him all over again. Just like how it was when he first came to your tour. When you arrested him.
"Well the hot people police are here. It's me. What's your name?" This was classic you. The siren sounds. The humour every knew and loved. This was you at your best.
"Charles!" He answers before the police sirens can be heard from the distance. Everyone knew what was happening and so did you. They've seen it before, but not like this. Not in this situation.
"You know i locked eyes with you on one point and i just couldn't stop looking. Where are you from, Charles?" This is going to be spicy you thought for yourself. You'll probably go viral for that, just like your song did months ago. Hitting the Billboard Hot 100 faster than you expected.
"Monaco." Born and raised. Fresh and bone here in front of you. There was one thing on your mind that he came to get you back. How did he even manage to get tickets such crazy minute. Knowing that tickets sales and fans fights over them is the usual when it comes you.
"What are you doing here tonight? Are you looking for love?" The crowd cheers erupt again as they see the performance playing in front of their eyes. But you knew why he was here. You all knew too well.
"You're looking for me. Well i'm right here." Giggling as soon as he told you that he was there for you. After all, honesty is the best policy. You knew he wasn't just simply for you. But you could guess he couldn't be that honest publicly. "Well i guess this is a little bit chismic. I mean you are front row so you did lowkey come here looking for me. And i was gonna be here. Either way i feel like this is fate. And i feel like if i was handcuffed for the rest of my life to you, i'd be happy about it, Charles. " From the way you said his name after days of not hearing it. From the way you looked at him like the two of you were the only ones left and there was no one else. He was a goner. God. He was a goner from the moment he saw you on that stage.
"I'm gonna dream about you, Charles. Adios!" No lie detected there. You've been dreaming about it him for days. To have his arms around you. To hold you. To meet his lips to his once again.
The music started again and there was one last thing you thought would be the best for the night. Change the lyrics from "Oh, I hear you knockin', baby, come on up" To "Oh i hear you knockin' Charles, come on up". Only to be met by the best reaction from the crowd. Some screamed. Some cheered. Nobody expected that. Not even Charles. His surprised face said it all too well.
It wasn't until the end of the concert when your bodyguard told you that "your future husband wants to see you". A call back to your first meeting or rather arrest if you will. But there was one thing for sure that he will not back down this time. Or let you go this time. Telling the bodyguard that he can come and that should let him in. Let him in you. Oops.
As soon as you see him entering your booth, you begin probably thinking this is how it will go. "If you're here to yell at me, to tell me that I was wrong for leaving-" Before you could finish the sentence his lips meet yours into an electric kiss. God. It felt so long to finally feel this again.
Breathing heavily as soon as his lips part from yours he whispers to you, while still holding your small face in his hands. It felt that if he would let go he would lose you. And nor did he want that to happen ever again. "I'm bere because i love you, idiot." Fuck. You're reminded once again why you fell in love with him.
