[hunterthecharmer]

Masterlist

Unexpected

Summary: You work for an events company and end up being assigned as a talent handler for a 2 week long convention. Your co-worker ends up assigned to Glen Powell, but you catch his eye. Can you remain professional and keep him from knowing you're actually a pretty big fan of his?

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

[somethinginthewayiam]

The girl behind the bar : Epilogue

pairing: Jake Hangman Seresin x plus-size reader

warnings: really fluffy

words: 1.4k

Summary: Jake has to talk to you about something but kinda serious...

a/n: I TOTALLY forgot to post the epilogue last week, my apologies. Here it is now. Enjoy!

Link to my masterlist

“I think this is the best thing I’ve ever eaten”, you sighed after the first bite. Jake had taken you to that diner where he had interrupted your date once. You were finally able to get that burger he had but fresh out of the kitchen this time. And it was even better than you imagined.

“Oh god”, you said after the second bite, making Jake chuckle. “If you keep this up, I will not let you finish that burger”, he mentioned and his green eyes bore into yours while he licked his lips. He hadn’t even touched his burger yet.

“Yeah, like you’re able to get up right now”, you countered with a challenging smile and took another bite. His eyes shot down to his crotch for a second then he adjusted in his seat. Your smile widened.

“We should get chocolate cake after”, you suggested and wiggled your eyebrows. His face froze. “Stop it. Right now”, he advised you with a low voice but you could see that he was intrigued.

If there was something you could drive him even wilder was eating chocolate cake. He said he had never seen anything more sensual and then continued to lick it off your chin and other places he had put it on your body. Good thing you were at his place when it happened and it were his sheets that were ruined. But the sex was out of this world.

You shot him a wink and a smile before you ate some fries. Your feet were entangled under the table. You were now the couple you were often so sick of when you saw them in restaurants, bars or just on a bench in the park. But this was actually quite fun when you were on the other side.

“Listen, Y/N, I wanted to talk to you about something”, Jake started and seemed a bit nervous all of a sudden. You looked up from your plate. He still hasn’t touched his burger.

“Yeah?”, you encouraged him as he didn’t continue right away. “Uhm, it’s about work”, he continued and it was almost awkward how nervous he got. It definitely made you nervous, too.

“Jake, what is it? You’re making me nervous”, you stated, chuckling. “Sorry, that wasn’t my intention. I wanted to talk to you about…”, “Hey! Hangman, Y/N!”, you heard behind you and turned around.

It was Rooster, Payback and Fanboy. Bob and Phoenix were already shipped off to Miramar for their next assignment. The group was coming over to you. “Hey, are you guys on a date?”, Rooster asked as he arrived at your table and immediately sat down on the bench next to you, pushing you down a seat. Payback sat down next to Hangman and Fanboy pulled up a chair.

“We were”, you told him. “Cool. Now it’s a group hang”, Rooster said and started eating some fries off your plate. “Hey, get your own food”, you told him and grabbed your plate, turning away from him. This burger was too good to share. “Sorry”, Jake mouthed and pulled a face. “We need new friends”, you said out loud, not caring if you hurt their feelings. They had just interrupted your date.

“No, we need more of those burgers”, Rooster said and turned around to wave at the waitress.

You ended up having an improtu group dinner but Jake managed to get the two of you out of there just when you had finished eating, leaving the guys with the bill as payback. Instead of going straight back to his place like you had expected, he drove to Pacific Beach and invited you to a walk on the beach.

You took your shoes off and carried them in your hand, feeling the sand between your toes as you walked next to Jake. For a little while, the two of you didn’t talk and just enjoyed the view and each other’s company.

You walked a few steps towards the water and ran back to Jake when the waves came in, trying not to get your dress wet. The last one came quite close and you squealed as you hurried back to Jake. He caught you in his arms and pressed a kiss to your lips while you smiled big.

You put your arms around his neck and kissed him back. His hands settled on your hips.

“You good?”, you asked him when you pulled back and your hand caressed his cheek. “With you in my arms, I’m always good”, he replied and gave you another kiss. “Aw, so cheesy”, you chuckled and played with the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Back at the diner, you wanted to talk about something before we got so rudely interrupted”, you reminded him. Jake’s facial features hardened at your words and underneath your hands, you could feel how his body tensed up.

“Jake, come on. You’re really scaring me right now”, you told him and tried to keep a brave face but you got increasingly worried the longer his silence went on. You let go of him and took a step back.

“I wanted to talk to you about work”, Jake finally spoke. “Okay”, you said slowly.

“I already put in two requests to prolong my stay at North Island and I can't put it off any longer”, he told you and your stomach turned. Was he breaking up with you?

“They're sending me overseas”, he told you and your heart sank so fast, it almost knocked you off your feet. Your shoes fell out of your hand. No. This couldn’t be happening.

“And I would really love for you to come with me”, he continued.

You looked at him with big eyes. You weren't even living together yet and you're supposed to leave the country with him?

“I don't even know where exactly they're sending me yet and it's only temporary. But I asked if I can bring someone and they said yes, so, it's not gonna be somewhere dangerous, so, I think...”, he finally realized that he was rambling and you were overly quiet.

He took your hands in his and took a step closer to you.

“I know it's quick, we're moving five times the speed you're provably supposed to do this, but I'm so sure about us. I haven't felt about anyone the way I feel about you and I just think that this could really work out between us. If you don't wanna come, which I can totally understand, we can do the long-distance thing. It's not gonna be ideal but anything is better than not being with you one way or another”, Jake declared and just about stopped himself. The puppy eyes he was giving you were almost too much to bear.

“Yes”, you finally said. The expression on his face turned hopeful yet hesitant.

“Yes as in...”, he asked.

“Yes, this is super quick and yes, long distance would be less ideal”, you began and his face dropped. Your stomach turned nervously when you took a deep breath. You couldn't believe what you were about to say.

“And yes, I will go with you wherever they send you because I don't care how fast we are moving, we're fucking great together and I'm not ready to have our story end just like that”, you told him.

“Really?”, his voice was shaky, unsure, trying to hide his excitement just in case he hadn't heard you right.

“Really”, you nodded and the next second his lips were on yours. His arms wrapped around you and held you close, never wanting to let you go ever again. It felt like forever until you pulled back.

“I've known you pretty much since the day I came to San Diego and even though you annoyed the hell out of me when we first met, I simply can't picture this place without you”, you added. He put his forehead against yours.

“Don't let me regret this, Hangman”, you told him.

“Never”, he lightly shook his head against your skin.

“I love you, Y/N”, Jake said.

“Good, 'cause I love you, too, Jake Seresin and I will literally follow you to the end of the world”, you said and closed your eyes for a moment.

My god, you were really doing this. There was no place you'd rather be than with him.

a/n: okay, but this time, it's really over. Their story might only be beginning, but our window into their little world is closed now.

Thank you all so much for reading, commenting, liking and just the amazing experience The girl behind the bar has been!

[hunterthecharmer]

This was so good 😭 I’m gonna miss them

[hunterthecharmer]

okay I’m back only to say I am having a full on freak out over not being able to find ereardonlibrary or Ereardon on here 😭😭😭😭😭 I was going to re read her works and AGGHHH she’s gone. Guys. 😭😭😭😭😭😭

[hunterthecharmer]

Just sitting here thinking about @ereardon @ereardonlibrary six years time fic.

that is all. good night. ✨❤️

[hunterthecharmer]

Back again. Same thoughts. 💭 🩷

[killue]

you have a headache because you have powers

[stargazingfangirl18]

do you ever just think about our fluffy daddy Andy Barber starting a relationship with a touch depreived girl 🥺 cause i do!! Just imagine how it would hurt his heart that she hasn’r been close enough to others to be taken care of the way she wants and how he would just revel in her soaking up all his love and just constantly having his hands on her/her in his lap/gentle back rubs and omg. Just feeling fluffy/angsty and wanted to share with you!

Loving Touch

Pairing: Andy Barber x Fem!Reader Word Count: 2,041 Summary: When Andy realizes you’re touch deprived, he does something about it. Warnings: Explicit sexual content. Explicit language. Touch deprived!Reader. AU. A bit of angst, maybe? 18+ only.

A/N: Okay, nonnie, you are a menace. This thought has been haunting me since you dropped it into my asks. So, I blame and thank you and ugly cry just a little, ‘cause soft!Andy 🥺 Also, this one is a little different than I usually write, a bit more from Andy’s POV than Reader’s and also kind of like some montage moments, if that makes sense? Idk I just went with it lol. Also I’m not an expert in touch deprivation, so liiike don’t come for me only cum from my writing, ja feel?! Enjoy! 😘

There were signs from the beginning, but it’s not until the first time Andy tries to make love to you that he realizes you’re touch deprived.

You’ve been together for a few months now, and you’ve had sex. You’ve had great sex. The kind of sex that had Andy coming back for more even though he’d sworn off real relationships after his divorce from Laurie, which had been rough.

But fuck, he just couldn’t stay away from you.

So you’ve fallen into exclusive relationship territory, although neither of you have outright said it or even broached the subject, but it is what it is - exclusive.

And if Andy is being honest with himself, he’s pretty fucking happy about it.

So much so that tonight he wants to revel in it and take his time with you.

He has you spread out on his bed, slowing things down because you tend to like it hard and fast, but fuck, he’s just in the mood to worship you, like you deserve.

He’s kissing his way down your body, his lips a slow, sensual drag on your skin when he realizes you’re shaking.

Andy’s lips are still trailing along the skin of your belly as he glances up and sees your fingers clawing at the sheets. His gaze moves higher, to your face streaked with tears as you bite at your lower lip, your body tense.

That’s when he realizes that it’s not desire or desperation making you tremble, it’s something else.

He’s just not sure what.

Frowning, Andy pushes up over you, stretching out until his face is hovering over yours.

“Hey,” he murmurs, the warmth of his palm cupping your cheek. “You okay?”

You’re not sure how to tell him it’s too much.

The softness. The undivided attention. The adoration. The way he’s loving you with his touch.

It’s overwhelming, all of it, especially the way Andy consumes you. As much as you like it, as much as you want him, it’s been a long time since anyone’s paid you this much attention, and it’s the first time anyone’s ever been this devoted to you.

It’s too much.

The way Andy whispers your name is soft, but it’s tinged with concern.

You’ve ruined the moment, and to add to everything else you're feeling right now, a pit grows heavy in your stomach. You blink your eyes open, distraught.

Andy’s face softens, his full lips twisting into a small frown as he gently thumbs the remaining tears from your cheeks. “Did I do something wrong, honey?”

“No.” You're quick to answer, and despite it just being one word, it still rings untrue.

His gaze is blue, unblinking, as he watches you for a long beat, and then he’s asking, “What do you need?”

You swallow, knowing you need a moment but you want him. You want everything Andy is offering you and more. You’re just not sure how to reconcile the two - the too much and the desperate want.

“Can we just...take a break?” your voice wavers, unsure, and you can feel your eyes stinging with a fresh onslaught of tears.

You know if you start crying, it’s just gonna make Andy even more concerned, and the night will be even less salvageable than it already is.

So you turn away from him, curl onto your side, sniffling quietly as you take a shaky breath.

“Yeah, of course,” Andy says, shifting until he’s lying beside you. He watches you for a long moment before asking, “Can I hold you?” He doesn’t like the way you stiffen at his question, but after a few seconds you’re whispering back at him.

“Okay.”

“You sure?”

You nearly burst into tears at how insecure Andy sounds, and you hate that you did that to him. So you’re quick to shift back against him, initiating contact until he’s gently curling around you and pressing a kiss to your bare shoulder.

“You know we don’t need to fool around if you’re not in the mood, right?” Andy’s voice is a quiet murmur as his hand tentatively slides over your hip, his palm spreading warm over your tummy.

“I know, and I always want to,” you whisper, hesitating before sliding your hand over his and twining your fingers together. “I always want you, Andy.”

Andy feels a little better at your admission, at the way you give his hand a squeeze, but he stays quiet as he tugs the blanket up and over you both, pressing another kiss to your back.

You’re both quiet for a long time, and then you tell him, “Sometimes it’s just a lot, being close to someone. And...at the same time, it’s all I want, even though I’ve never really had it, at least not like this.”

Andy hums in wordless acknowledgement, not quite sure what to say, but shifting a bit closer and hugging you a little tighter. He rolls your words around in his head, replays your reactions and physical responses from earlier, and slowly the realization hits him.

You’re touch deprived.

Andy doesn’t know all the gory details of your last relationship, but from what you’ve shared and what he’s pieced together, it wasn’t a great experience.

You’re also not close to your family and have few friends, and maybe that’s what drew him to you in the first place - you were a bit of a lone wolf, just like him.

But no matter his lone wolf tendencies, and the fractures in his relationship with Laurie, he’s always been an affectionate guy.

In fact, Andy found touch easier than words sometimes. He was naturally touchy feely because he was tactile, and maybe a little possessive, if he was being honest with himself.

Regardless, he wanted to know you were there, feel you against him, that you were his, and he hoped his presence and touch reassured you in the same way.

When the realization that you’re touch deprived dawns on him, Andy’s bewildered. And sad. It breaks his heart because you’re so lovely--amazing, really--and he falls a little bit more in love with you each day.

So in that moment as he holds you close, as he listens to your breath even out and he feels you go pliant with sleep against him, Andy decides it’s his new mission to make sure you know just how much he cares about you.

How much he wants you, always.

That you’re safe with him.

And even though it was probably a little too soon to tell you, Andy would show you just how much he loves you.

He starts small, with hand holding.

The next day when you go on your weekly farmer’s market trip, he reaches for you as you browse the berry selection.

You glance over at him in question as Andy catches your hand, but he just smiles and interlocks your fingers with his, lifting your hand to his face and pressing a soft kiss to the back of it.

You don’t stiffen, you just look confused for a beat, but you eventually return his smile, your clasped hands swinging between the two of you as you move to the next  produce stand.

From there Andy works more hugs into your interactions.

The first few times you’re a little startled…

When Andy randomly pulls you into a hug as you’re both getting dressed for work one morning, and he just stands there quietly holding you for a long moment before pressing a kiss to your forehead, gently pinching your cheek with a fond curl of his lips, and then he’s reaching for his tie to finish off his outfit of choice.

Or when you’re finishing up the dishes late one night, Andy’s reflection startling you in the window over the sink before his arms wrap around you and tug you back against his firm chest. His deep purr rumbles against your back as you go slack against him, your hands falling atop his and your head tilting to the side to allow his lips to wander your skin, encourage it even.

Or one day as you help Andy finish loading the shopping bags into the trunk of his Audi, and he closes it before turning to you and tugging you against his chest, just holding you in the middle of the parking lot for no reason at all. You relax against him quickly, a smile tugging at your lips as your belly flutters, and it’s a nice change from the tightness in your throat that you usually feel at unexpected or lingering touches. You catch a glimpse of Andy’s warm smile as he slowly pulls away, and then he’s dropping a kiss to your lips, shooting you a wink, and leading you to the passenger side of the car to get you settled.

Soon you’re not only melting into Andy’s loving touch daily, you’re craving it.

Delighting in it.

Like tonight, as you emerge from the bathroom connected to your shared bedroom, you smile as Andy catches your hand and tugs you toward him.

He looks comfy--and stupidly handsome--in his flannel pajama pants and light gray t-shirt. He pulls you onto his lap with a soft smile and lounges back against his pillows with a content hum.

You shift closer to him, until you’re comfortably straddling his thighs and loosely looping your arms around his neck. Dipping close, you kiss Andy at a leisurely pace, enjoying the soft, warm press of his lips against yours, the tease of his tongue along the seam of your mouth.

Squirming now, you whimper in the back of your throat, the sound needy and desperate as you press flush to Andy’s chest as your fingers grip his soft hair.

He smiles when you pull away, knuckles caressing your warm cheek as his darker than normal eyes twinkle at you. “What do you need, honey?”

“You,” you whisper without hesitation. Your arms wind tighter around Andy’s neck as you lean in for another wet, thorough kiss. You shiver at the hot, firm drag of Andy’s hands up your back as you pull away to meet his gaze.

“And what do you want?” he asks.

“You.”

Your answer sounds the same, but it’s not, and as you stare into each other's eyes, you both know it.

“You have me,” Andy promises. Reaching for one of your hands, he pulls it to his face, pressing a bristly kiss to your palm before pressing your hand to his chest, over his heart. “You have all of me, sweetheart.”

Your own heart feels like it’s growing in your chest, overflowing with warmth and happiness and the kind of too much that you could get used to.

“Show me,” you tell him, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips.

This time when Andy spreads you out on the bed, when he takes his time undressing you--that warm, covetous look in his eye enough to make your belly flutter with something so much more than happiness--and starts showering your body with soft, lingering kisses, you bask in it.

Your body arches against him in invitation--in encouragement--hips impatiently shifting as Andy teases along your ribs with his mouth, his hands cupping your sides.

It’s in the slow, heavy drag of his hands along your body, the teasing brushes of his thumbs against your aching nipples.

It’s in the way he pauses to press up over you and catch your mouth in a messy, possessive kiss, humming at the taste of you before his lips are back to wandering your body once more.

It’s in how he gently drags his beard along the softness of your inner thighs--marking you as his--as he trails his fingers along the curve of your calf, the jut of your ankle bone.

It’s in when he finally--blessedly--sinks into the hot, dripping center of you, merging you two together as one, your skin pressed against his--no space in between--as Andy moans your name, the look in his eye so tender your own eyes sting with emotion.

It’s then that you know - this is so much more than a loving touch or an intimate moment between lovers.

This is worship and devotion.

This is the love of Andy Barber.

And it’s everything you’ve ever wanted and so much more.

WELP. I GUESS NOW I’M JUST A GODDAMN SAP TOO, HUH?! WTF.

---

Tags will be added in a reblog. If you’d like to be added to my tag list, check out the link in my bio!

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

[time-for-a-lullaby]

arranged.

Arranged. 

Pairing: Mafia Boss!Chris Evans x Female Reader

Summary: Living in this life, you’ve never gotten to have much say in anything. What you wear, who you hang out with, and now, who you marry and you’re dreading your arranged marriage to the Italian mob boss, Chris Evans. Expecting to suffer through a life of abuse while being kept under lock and key, you’re pleasantly surprised when Chris is nothing like you expected. He’s the most feared man on the East Coast, only brought to his knees by one thing and one thing only. You.

Warnings: This series has physical violence, gun violence, parental abuse, smut. It’s not ‘dark’ per se, but please use caution and make sure to read the individual warnings for each page. Thank you!

A/N: *drabbles for the series are listed/indented under each corresponding part!*

Smut = 🔥

time-for-a-lullaby masterlist

No Pressure Links -

Book Wishlist

Buy Me A Coffee :)

Part 1 - The Wedding (w/c = 5.9k)

Part 2 -  Assecondami (w/c = 8.1k)

Chris Confronts Readers Father (Chris POV)

Chris Challenges Reader at Breakfast

Part 3 - Ferris Wheels and Cotton Candy (w/c  = 5k)

The First Kiss (Chris POV)

Part 4 - Come Home To Me (w/c = 6.2k)

Chris and Reader Discuss a Dog

Part 5 - Amore Mio (w/c = 6.5k) 🔥

Chris and Reader Discuss a Holiday Card

Tattoos with Chris 🔥

Part 6 - Blindsided (w/c = 8.3k)

Better Make This Quick

Lydia and Seb Drabble (Lydia POV)

Part 7 - Free (w/c = 7.1k)

Jealous Reader Pulls Chris From a Poker Game

Part 8 - Detained (w/c = 10.4k) 🔥

Part 9 - A Fresh Start (w/c = 6k)

The Mutt Sheds (Dodger Drabble)

Part 10 - You Make It Easy (w/c = 8k) 🔥

Followed

After Followed

Daylight - Seb and Lydia Drabble (Lydia POV)

Lydia and Seb Tie The Knot (Reader POV)

Incinta

Everything We’ve Always Wanted

Domestic Bliss

Arranged Epilogue - Endgame

Arranged Extended Epilogue - Sempre e Per Sempre

Arranged Series 4k Drabbles - 

4k Celebration Drabble (Prompt - “I’ll die for you” & “I’ll kill you myself if you even as much as think of putting yourself in danger”)

4k Celebration Drabble (Prompt - “You’ve made me the happiest I’ve ever been.” “ and “You can’t lie to me, you know”)

4k Celebration Drabble (Prompt -  “I wouldn’t have called you if it wasn’t important.”)

[glenpowelljr]

GLEN POWELL AS ↴ BECKET REDFELLOW HOW TO MAKE A KILLING (2026)

[veltana]

No one as sweet as you - Mafia!Stucky/Reader

✦ Pairing: Stucky/Reader ✦ Word count: ~9,4k ✦ Rating: Explicit ✦ Warnings: Mafia AU, best friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, protective!stucky, TW: reader is verbally and physically abused by john walker, idiots in love, sharing a bed, poly relationship, piv sex, dirty talk, cunnilingus, praise kink, pet names (Sweets), unprotected sex, creampie. ✦ Summary: When you’re hurt by your boyfriend you go to the two people you can depend on for anything, Steve and Bucky, your best friends. ✦ Note: This is a fic that was previously posted on AO3, at the beginning of the year. But since I'm stuck in writer's block right now I thought I would post this in case you haven't read it. It's one of my favorites. There are some short prequel fics to this also posted on AO3, about when they were living together in college. I'll post those too in the following weeks.

Series masterlist

Masterlist | AO3

The bouncer gives you one glance before he opens the door for you and the line of people you pass shout angrily but you don’t even spare them a glance, your thoughts elsewhere. The music in the club usually invigorates you but tonight it passes through without leaving a trace.

Making your way to Monica at the bar, the people you pass shoot you weird glances and you know you must look a mess. When she sees you she comes right over, the music is too loud to talk so you share a squeeze of the forearm in place of a hug before she pours you your favorite wine, with a pitying smile at your smeared mascara. You throw a kiss at her before making your way to the back and once again the big man at the door opens it for you after a quick look.

The music is muted as you make your way to the stairs at the back that take you up to their private room. When your heels land at the top and you meet Bucky's eyes he lifts the girl currently on his lap off and declares "Everyone out."

Steve shoots him an irritated look before his eyes follow Bucky's and sees you. You stand perfectly still while the women and men who were enjoying a private party with two of the biggest mobsters in New York mill past you down the stairs, some even shoot you dirty looks.

When the last person has passed, you take a step towards them, but before you're two steps in, Bucky has taken the glass from your hand and Steve has lifted you into his arms. You cling to him, hands grasping his shirts, and finally, you know you’re safe.

Steve sits down with you in his lap, cradling your head to lean it against him, the other arm holding you tight at your waist. Bucky's palms are gentle when he rubs your back soothingly. None of them say anything at first but the tears running down your face speak for themselves. You made it all the way without breaking down but with them, you can be vulnerable. For the last seven years, they’ve been the rock, the shelter, and your haven.

"Talk to us, Sweets," Bucky's voice is only that soft with you, maybe sometimes with Steve too, “What’s going on?” You try to take a deep breath, but it just stutters. After a few more tries it’s better but you’re not sure where to begin. They give you time, and don't press you on information, like they otherwise do in their line of work.

Finally, you release Steve's shirt and instead, you find the hand he has wrapped around your waist, twisting the rings on his fingers as you try to speak. You don't want to look at them, the shame and the anxiety is running high in your body but you want to tell them, you just have to find the right words.

"You know the guy I've been seeing," you start and feel Steve's arms tighten around you. Before you can say more Bucky mutters "I'm gonna kill him." Steve is calmer and asks, "What about John, Sweets?" He speaks into your hair, his voice is gentle but it has a hard edge. "He's been so sweet since we started going out, but he's been having a rough time at work lately," you squeeze your eyes shut, not wanting to remember, your heart beating like crazy. The memories bring forth the panic and the fear again and your breath gets shallow.

"It's alright Sweets, you're here with us, nothing can hurt you," Bucky's low voice is comforting, together with their touch, and you know he’s telling you the truth. It’s the reason you came here instead of going home.

You take a few more breaths and continue "So I thought I'd do something nice for him. We had a spa day and while he soaked in the tub I made dinner and dressed up for him." Frowning hard, your fingers spin the rings on Steve's hand faster and faster the more your anxiety builds, knowing what’s coming.

"And everything was great until I poured the wine and spilled some on the tablecloth." Your mouth opens and closes a few times and the tears start to fall again but Bucky is there with his thumbs, cradling your face and brushing them away, while Steve rocks you gently in his embrace.

"He was furious," you cry. "Said I ruined everything! He threw the wine in my face, then the bottle across the room. He tried to grab me but I ran out of there." There is a long silence when you finish, it’s just your sobs and the music from the other side of the wall. Then Steve says "I'm gonna fucking kill him," his voice laced with rage, and he hugs you even closer.

"I took a cab here, I didn’t know where else to go, I didn’t wanna go home." With the last words out you feel a small relief. You’ve told them. You’ve told someone. The scene still plays in your head, seeing John's eyes turn black with rage when the drops of rosé landed on the white linen, feeling the fear when he started screaming.

"Thank you for telling us, Sweets. You’re an incredible person," Steve says and moves you out of his lap and over to Bucky's. They treat you with the utmost care, moving slowly, giving you time to protest if you want, or detangle yourself if that's what you desire. But you let them manipulate your body how they like because sometimes they know what you need more than you do.

"You did nothing wrong," he goes on to say, holding onto your hands, letting his thumbs caress the skin. "John is an absolute fucking asshole and no one should be treated like that.” You meet his green-blue eyes that are only soft for you, and Bucky. Right now, Steve isn’t the feared mobster that people avert their eyes from when he enters a room, scared they’re going to end up in a ditch because they looked at him wrong. No, this Steve is your best friend.

"I don't want to be scared, and I don't want to go home in case he comes there," you confess. "You'll stay with us," Bucky decides, voice finite. "Let’s go home so you can take a shower and change clothes." You nod and are about to stand up but Bucky is quicker, changing his grip and holding you close as he gets up. He carries you to the car and doesn't let go of you until you're in their mansion, in the room you have there.

When he puts you down your feet are a little unsteady and they both look at you with concern, but you give them a weak smile “It’s okay.” "We'll be right outside, shout if you need anything," Steve tells you and when you nod they both step out and close the door softly behind them.

For a moment you stand still, trying to make sense of the last hours, wondering how everything went to shit. Then you finally get a good look at yourself in the tall mirror and see the black rivulets of mascara and eyeliner smudged down your cheeks, the foundation almost gone.

The dress is ruined by the wine and even if it was expensive and you can get it dry cleaned you don’t want it anymore. You pull it off and throw it into the trash can, quickly followed by the heels. The lingerie is one of your favorite sets but you're unsure if you will ever be able to enjoy it again without remembering how you chose it especially for John. After a moment it goes into the trash, and the earrings too, feeling like you need everything from the night to be gone.

The only thing you keep on your body is the necklace that was a gift from Bucky and Steve years ago and you haven’t taken it off since. It's custom-made with three delicate chains in gold, silver, and black twisted together. You loved it the moment you saw it, knowing that the chains were the three of you, twisted together through the rest of your lives. When you touch it with your fingers it makes you feel better, because you can feel them with you.

The shower feels more than just bodily cleansing and when you remove the last pieces of your smeared makeup, smoothing eye cream over your puffy eyes, the feeling of fear and panic is distant.

In the closet are a bunch of your clothes, probably more than you like to admit, but the best part is the drawer with their old t-shirts. You pull one out, not sure which of them it used to belong to, but it’s worn and soft against your skin. For a moment you press it against your nose, breathing in the detergent that reminds you of this place and all the wonderful memories that you have with them, before you find your pajama pants.

Out in your room you sit on the bed and look around at the muted colors. Bucky and Steve insisted that the room was yours, not just a guest room, and it makes you smile a little when you think about how much fun you had decorating it.

After taking a deep breath you open the door and find them just a few steps away. The look in Bucky's eyes is murderous and Steve's fists are clenched by his side, but when they turn to you they go back to being your best friends that you met in college all those years ago. "How are you feeling?" Bucky steps up to you and pulls you into a soft hug, tucking your head underneath his chin as you wrap your arms around his waist, breathing in the smell of him. Steve comes up behind you, placing his palms on your shoulders, rubbing the muscles carefully. "Better now," you answer. "But I never had dinner so I'm a bit hungry."

Bucky pulls away from you, cradling your face, tilting it up until you're looking right into his light blue eyes. "Let's go raid the kitchen," he smiles and holds your gaze for a few seconds more and there is so much love in those eyes it's almost scary. You know he would burn down the city if it made you happy, they both would, and that intensity is one of the many things that have kept you from finding out what it would be like to be theirs. You're not sure you'd be able to handle it.

When Bucky lets go of you, Steve's arm goes around your waist and he pulls you into him, Bucky takes your hand, lacing your fingers together, and you walk to the kitchen. You sit down at the kitchen island while they open the fridge.

"The chef made mac'n’cheese," Steve says and pulls out an oven pan, covered in tin foil with a post-it note on top with instructions for heating it. Bucky turns on the oven and says, "Want something to drink Sweets?"

"Soda?" you ask and Steve pulls a can out of the fridge before settling down beside you, handing it to you. You hand it right back "Please? I don't wanna fuck up my nails." That makes him chuckle as he opens it and the sound makes you warm on the inside so you lean your head against his shoulder.

"Thank you," you sigh. "For always being here for me. I'm sorry I ruined your party." "You didn't ruin shit," Bucky spits out, glaring at you from where he is standing by the oven. Steve and you chuckle at his harsh tone but then he leans forward, over the counter towards you, resting his large arms against the surface.

"I mean it, Sweets, don't you ever think you ruin anything by showing up, for any reason," his voice is stern but you know it comes from a place of love. "Thank you, Bucky, it means a lot," you smile.

When the oven is warm Bucky puts the tray in and pulls out plates. It only takes a few minutes and your tummy rumbles as the kitchen fills with the smell of cheese. Bucky and Steve make small talk about work things and you're grateful for them filling the silence while you finally get some food.

But it isn't the nice chicken that you cooked for John that you looked forward to eating and your eyes begin to burn. Even though you try to force the tears back they come anyway and run down your cheeks as you eat. Neither Bucky nor Steve notice until you reach for a paper towel and sniffle loudly. Not a second later you're wrapped up in Steve's embrace, crying into his shirt again while Bucky caresses your hair and nape. They mumble sweet things to you and tell you that you're safe and that nothing is ever going to hurt you again.

After a few minutes, the tears run dry. "I'm okay," you say and Steve loosens his hold, his eyes filled with concern for you. "You sure?" "Yeah, but I feel like I've been hit by a truck. Should probably try to get some sleep.” "We're sleeping in my room," Bucky decides and you nod, Steve too.

It's not unusual for the three of you to share a bed when one of you has had a rough time. The first time it happened was after finals and you all fell asleep in Steve's bed, totally exhausted, and slept better than you'd had in weeks.

Then it was after break-ups, yours, Steve's, Bucky's, somehow you all ended up in a bed together every time and it wasn't sexual at any point, just friends being there for each other and it continued through the years. The only time it was out of the question was when one of you was in a relationship, then it just felt weird, and from previous experience, it wasn't something that partners were all that accepting of.

You retrieve your pillows and cover from your room before settling in Bucky’s huge bed, your feet twisted up with Steve's, and Bucky is holding your hand. It's nice, it's familiar and you drift off knowing you're safe with them.

The room is dark when their soft voices wake you, but that might be because of the black-out curtains and not because it's still night. They’ve moved close enough to you that you can feel the warmth from their bodies on either side of you, and Bucky’s chest is right in front of your eyes when you open them slightly to peek. They don't notice you're awake and you don't feel like announcing it either, curious what they’re talking about.

"We let her decide." Even if Steve's tone is hushed it's still hard. "She is too sweet, you know she would never hurt a fly, she's going to say no," Bucky protests harshly in a whisper. This is interesting, you think.

"Even if you and I are fine with getting blood on our hands, maybe she doesn't want to live with that, maybe she wants to press charges." Steve has always been the more level-headed of the two, good with looking at things from all angles and keeping his cool. Bucky huffs and you want to giggle. His emotions always get him in trouble, even if he doesn’t want to admit it. When Bucky is angry he sees red and when he loves he does it with his whole soul and being. One time you asked Steve how he isn’t dead yet since his poker face seems to suck, but Steve explained that when they’re doing business he is usually calm and collected. When his emotions finally break through, people know they should probably run.

"Fine.” You can tell Bucky is not happy but he lowers his voice even more, and now it’s tinged with something else. “But I'm never letting her go again." His words together with his gentle tone make your heart skip. There was a time when you seriously thought about asking them to see if the three of you could work it out, and be more than just friends. But what you have with them is so precious that if it fails in the end, and you lose your best friends, you're not sure how you're going to go on.

"And you think I will?" Steve mutters. "We should have said something a long time ago." "Well, we can't go back in time. All I know is that I love her and I can't see her with anyone else ever again," Bucky's voice sounds like it's going to crack. He never cries but that is as close as it gets.

Steve reaches over you towards him, you can't see what he does but you know how Steve's comforting hands look on Bucky, you've seen it before. Sometimes they're even sweeter with each other than they are with you, when they think no one can see them, not even you. It's so clear that they love each other deeply, honestly it's surprising that they don't just date each other.

You hear Bucky hum in contentment and Steve gives a small soft laugh. It feels like a good time as any to pretend to wake up. You file away their words for another day, not ready to deal with them now in the wake of what’s happened. First, you need to heal the broken heart you're already nursing before thinking about giving it away again.

With a groan you turn from your side to your back, stretching and blinking your eyes open. They're lying on their sides, both resting their heads on their hands. "What time is it?" you mumble, rubbing your eyes. "Just past nine," Bucky informs you and brushes a few strands of hair out of your face. "And you two are still here?" "Just for you," Steve says softly and finds your hand, twisting your fingers together.

Both of them are early risers and you hate mornings, something they tease you for endlessly. "Honestly though, have you already, like, gone for a run, had breakfast, and then sealed some important deal?" "Nope." Bucky slides his arm in under your neck, placing the other hand on your hip, and pulls you closer to him. "We didn't want to leave in case you woke up." Steve shuffles closer, his chest pressing into your shoulder. "Didn't want you to think we left you all by yourself."

You hum and decide to ask "Would it be okay if I stay here a few days?" "Sweets, stay as long as you want. It's your home as much as ours,” Steve answers. "No,” you correct. “My name is definitely not on any papers for this house." "We can fix that if that's what you want. Just move here." Bucky is serious but you decide to laugh it off. "You'd like that wouldn't you?" "Like old times." he smiles.

"Except I have no desire to listen to the people you bring home scream and moan, got enough of that in college,” tumbles out of your mouth without really thinking of it. They exchange a look but before they can say anything you hastily continue. "Do you think I need to break up with John, or do you think he got the message when I left?"

An uneasy silence falls and Bucky breaks it. "I'm gonna be honest with you Sweets, I really wanna fucking kill him, and make it as painful and as horrifying for him as possible. Death will feel like a blessing in the end." Steve speaks next. "But it's your decision, and if you wanna press charges against him, we'll make our lawyers available."

It’s a lot to take in at that moment. "I don't know,” you answer truthfully. “It still hurts, I'm still scared but I'm not sure what will make it better." "When you've decided you let us know and we'll do whatever you want." Steve bends down to kiss the top of your head.

"If I see him on the street or something though I'm gonna punch him," Bucky says casually before letting go of you and getting out of bed. When his warmth leaves you, you whine and that makes him chuckle. He kneels on the bed and kisses your forehead. "Steve will keep you company while I make breakfast." "You mean go get what the chef has already prepared?" you joke. Bucky shoots you a look before leaving the bedroom.

"We should be glad he isn't actually cooking. Remember when he tried to make pancakes for his girlfriend and almost burned down the apartment," Steve notes. "That's because he got distracted. I mean, I'm glad I came out of my room when I did but the image of Bucky and her on the kitchen table still haunts me," you chuckle.

"You weren't exactly innocent back in those days either," Steve points out with a laugh. "But I never did it on the communal surfaces," you defend with a huff. "No, all we got was listening to you trying to stifle every sound and failing miserably." "Well, at least I didn't break a wall while fucking someone." "It was a shitty wall, never have that problem here." "See that's why I don't wanna move here." "We can soundproof your room?" "Or I can just live in my apartment?"

Bucky comes back with a breakfast tray and places it on the bedside table before pulling out your phone from his pants. "It's been buzzing nonstop since I got down," he explains and hands it to you right as the screen lights up with an incoming call.

"It's John," you tell them, and your chest floods with anxiety as you stare at the screen and sit up against the headboard. "Answer it," Steve sits up beside you, his shoulder brushing yours. Bucky is pressed against you much the same on your other side. "On speaker," he instructs and takes out his own phone to record the call.

Your hands shake as you swipe to answer. "H-hello." Your voice is wavering. "Baby! I'm sorry for yesterday, I'm sorry I got mad. I've been calling since you left, I've been so worried. I checked your place but you weren't home. Where are you?" John says in a worried voice. "I'm at a friend's house," you reply.

The feelings in your chest are conflicted, on one hand you never want to see him again but hearing his voice makes you remember that when he is good he is great, amazing even, and you would be lying if you said you didn't miss him. For the last few months, you gave it your all and you were even prepared to tell him you love him.

"I'll come and pick you up and let me apologize properly," he sounds pained like he is actually sorry for what he did. Fuck, it's so tempting to go back but you know better. You know that this is just the tip of the iceberg, and getting wine thrown in your face is probably not the worst that can happen.

"No, John." You try to sound confident but you're not sure it comes across. "I don't think it's going to work out between us." The moment you say the words the tears well up and Steve starts rubbing your shoulder." You're doing great," he whispers right by your ear so John doesn't hear.

"Are you-" John sounds shocked. "Are you breaking up with me… over the phone?" "Yeah, sorry." You cringe, you shouldn't be sorry. "You scared me yesterday and I feel like I don't know you anymore."

"Babe you don't need to be scared of me, I would never hurt you I swear," he sounds like he is about to cry and a part of you wants to comfort him. "You threw wine in my face and said some really mean things," you point out.

"I didn't mean any of that, I promise. You know I've had a lot on my plate lately and I didn't mean to take it out on you." There is some part of you that desperately wants to believe him. "That's not an excuse," you go on. "I'm not an object for you to take out your frustration on. It's not going to work John."

There is a long silence before he speaks again and now his voice is laced with rage instead. "Then you can come get your fucking things right now." "John, please don't-" you start but he cuts you off.

"You fucking bitch, you lead me on for months and then you break up with me over the phone, because what? You think I’m gonna hit you or something?" "Yeah, maybe," you answer truthfully. "You're such a dumb bitch, I would never lay a hand on a woman I care about."

Both Steve and Bucky stir beside you. When you shoot them a glance they are both staring at the screen with murder in their eyes. "Calling me names won't change my mind, John," it hurts when he says them, like an actual stab in the heart and it brings out more tears.

Bucky leans over and taps the mute button. "There is no way you're going over there, we'll send Sam and Vis." You nod and unmute while John is raging on about how dumb and useless you are and how he wishes he'd never wasted his time on you. "I'm going to send some friends to pick up my things."

"Oh, so you won't even face me yourself?” his voice is unrecognizable now. “You know what? I'm glad for what I did, I'm not sorry anymore, you're obviously a fucking coward and not worth a second of my time." Every ounce of fight is gone from you, you're just tired and want it to be over. You don’t want to listen to the hurtful words anymore so you simply say "Goodbye John," and don't even wait for a response before hanging up. You drop the phone into the sheets and bury your face in your hands, your body jerking with sobs.

Steve and Bucky’s arms go around you but you hardly notice, everything is just excruciating pain, your heart smashed into a million pieces. Twenty-four hours ago you were happy with a man you thought you knew, and loved, but now everything is broken and you're not sure what you’re going to do next.

It takes a long time for you to stop crying and when it finally ends you're exhausted, again. The coffee Bucky brought has gone cold but Steve holds a glass of juice to your lips and makes you take a few sips before coaxing some yogurt into your mouth. "Steve is going to stay with you while I take care of a few things. If you need me, you tell him and I'll be right back," Bucky promises when he leaves the bed again, taking the tray with him out of the bedroom.

"Is he going to kill him?" you ask softly as you sink down under the covers. Steve puts his arm around your waist and pulls you into his chest until your face is squished against it. "No," his voice is soft. "Not without me." "Steve…" "Can you blame us, Sweets? John was lucky it was over the phone or else we would have beaten him into a pulp for saying those things."

"He never acted like that before," you whisper. "I'm just happy you got out before he put his hands on you," Steve whispers back. "If you had shown up with bruises yesterday I might have lost it." "I love you," you tell him and he kisses the top of your head. "I love you too, Sweets, and I know Bucky feels just the same." You hum and let the exhaustion take over.

They have switched when you wake the next time, you're in Bucky's arms and he is carding his fingers through your hair speaking quietly to you. "Wake up Sweets, it's time for dinner."

Even if you’ve slept right through lunch you shake your head and swing your leg over his hip, clinging to him. "Don't wanna get up," you whine. "If you eat dinner, we can watch a movie on the couch afterward." He knows just how to tempt you and you need something to try and take your mind off everything.

"Candy?" you pull back. Even if the light in the room is dim you can still see the blue in his eyes, and the crinkles at the corners when he smiles. "You know we keep stock of everything you like, there is always something sweet for our Sweets."

You hug him hard. "I love you Bucky, you know that right?" "I love you too, Sweets." He kisses the top of your head, much like Steve did earlier. "And I know Steve feels just the same." That makes you giggle "Steve said the same thing." "Well he is a smart man," he shrugs.

Bucky all but pulls you out of bed but he doesn't force you to change out of your pajamas. He leads you to the kitchen where Steve is plating the food and your stomach grumbles when you smell it. They have set the table with candles and it looks lovely but it also reminds you of your last candle-lit dinner. Bucky sees the look on your face turns you away from it and tilts your chin up with his fingertips, "It’s…” he begins, hesitating, trying to find the right words. “We want to replace every bad memory, but if it’s too much too soon we’ll throw it all out.”

The scary thing is that he is serious. If you said the word they would throw everything out, but you don't want that, you want a nice dinner with them and try to get past what happened. Maybe it will help, maybe it won’t but you won’t know until you’ve tried. And if there is one thing you know for sure, it is that you are safe with them.

“It’s fine, I’ll try,” you promise with a smile before turning around to sit down at the table. Steve serves the food and Bucky pours you a glass of wine. After a few bites, Bucky brings up some stupid shit the three of you did a long time ago and through dinner, you reminisce about old times.

Since meeting John you haven't seen them as much because you learned early on that partners were weirded out or even jealous of what you had with them. Right now you can’t fathom why you would ever do that, because these two people are the best thing in your life.

You fold your napkin into your lap and look at them. "I'm sorry for, like, ghosting you the last few months," you swallow hard. "I've been a shitty friend but you always take care of me when I need you, and I’m so thankful for that. I promise I’ll do better."

"It's okay sweets," Steve smiles and reaches over the table to grasp your hand. Bucky takes the other and his thumb caresses your knuckles. "Don't apologize, there is no need." The lump in your throat is from love and not from sadness this time and you don't try to speak, just nod, squeezing their hands back.

Afterward, you cuddle up on the couch to watch a movie but ten minutes in you're already nodding off. When Steve and Bucky notice you're asleep they turn the TV off and Steve carries you up to Bucky's bedroom. "She has work tomorrow," Bucky whispers and pulls the cover up over your body. "Fuck, should we wake her?" Steve asks back. "No, let her sleep, she starts at nine so if we let her sleep til seven it should be fine."

Fortunately, the alarm on your phone goes off as usual but when you turn to snooze it, you instead roll into a warm chest. Steve grumbles and reaches for your phone, handing it to you before seizing you around the waist, and burying his face in your neck.

“Hey, I have to get up,” you mutter. It feels like your eyes are filled with sand and your head is pounding but you have to go to work nonetheless. “You don’t have to work,” he speaks into your skin and it makes a tingling feeling travel through you.

“Don’t be silly, let go of me,” you chuckle and detangle yourself. The other side of the bed is empty, Bucky already up. You drag yourself over to your room to shower before getting ready and eating breakfast. Steve insists on driving you to work and Bucky comes and sees you off with a long hug and a kiss on your hair. “I’ve put Clint and Peter to watch your apartment and Sam and Vis are going to be outside your work all day, Sweets.” “Thank you, Bucky.”

When Steve drops you off he points out the car. "If you see John or you for any other reason feel unsafe you can go to them right away, or call us,” he tucks a strand of hair in behind your ear. “Don’t hesitate. You mean everything to us and we want to keep you safe, Sweets,” You nod. “Thank you, Steve,” you whisper, leaning over the console to kiss his cheek before heading to work.

What you told yourself would only be a few days, turns into a few weeks and now it’s almost two months. Despite your initial refusal, you’re enjoying living with them again. A few times after the break-up, John tried to contact you and every time the phone started buzzing and your anxiety spiked you found one of them and they helped you through it.

You haven’t slept in your room once and neither has Steve, it's always the three of you sleeping in Bucky's bed. It could be because Bucky has an expensive bed that you sleep so soundly, but in the back of your head, you know it’s because their presence calms you.

If Bucky or Steve can't drive you to work, someone else does, your own car is still parked on the street by your apartment and you don’t have any desire to go get it. But you do miss some of your clothes, and toiletries, so maybe you should take it as a sign that you need to go back.

After getting home from work that day you walk up to their office, a little apprehensive. Both of them are leaning over the desk when you poke your head in, their cuffs rolled up, exposing their underarms. It’s enough to make your stomach flip, they look too good. Steve sees you first and a smile splits his face. “Hey Sweets, have a good day at work?”

Bucky turns and opens his arms towards you when you step into the room. His hug is warm and comforting and you answer Steve’s question with a yes, before taking a step back from them. "I know I said I was only going to stay a few days but it's been way more than that now, so I think I'll go back to my place after work tomorrow." You try to sound as neutral as possible, neither sad nor happy, just stating a fact.

"No," Bucky breathes, fists tightening at his sides. "I agree with Bucky, don't leave," Steve's voice is calm and his face doesn’t give much away but his eyes are betraying him, they’re too glossy, too wide, and too filled with fear to miss.

The other reason you need to go back home is the way they are treating you and touching you. It’s making your feelings run wild and you can't have that, you can’t risk losing them too. And if that wasn't enough they've invaded your dreams with their touches and words, making you wake up aching for them in a way that is totally inappropriate.

"I can't stay, you know that," you sigh. "No, I don't." Bucky is frustrated, staring at you. "I really fucking don't know why you can't stay. We love having you here and you seem to love being here. Just stay."

His mood is making you defensive, you don't want to explain that you're obviously catching feelings soon after getting out of something traumatic. You need to think, and every time you wake up drenched, tucked in between them you are seconds away from ruining everything by confessing or honestly just taking one of their hands and pushing it in between your legs, hoping they will help you get off.

"I need my own space, Bucky," you cross your arms and glare at him. "You have your own room," he states and takes a step closer. "That I don't use anyway," you reply and take a step back. "Because you don't want to!" His raised voice silences you not because you're scared but because he's right. Bucky isn’t stupid and he's not the type to sugarcoat things when he's upset.

Your heart is hammering. "No I don't want to," you confess with a breath. "But I need to." Then you turn to go but only get a step from the desk before Steve grabs your wrist. He spins you into his chest, Bucky coming up behind you, boxing you in between them. Bucky's head falls on your shoulder. "I can't let you go again, Sweets, I can't do it."

Your mind flashes back to the morning when you pretended to sleep and heard them talking. The breath in your chest hitches as you look up into Steve's blue-green eyes. “I’m with him, Sweets,” he says in a low voice and cups your cheek with his large hand. “You belong here, with us.”

Your mouth opens and you try to protest but it dies on your tongue and Steve takes the opportunity to continue. "We love you, more than anything, we want you to be ours, more than just our best friend. Live with us, be with us in every sense of the word. All three of us, together," his voice wavers at the end.

The words sink in slowly. Be with them. Be theirs. Stay. Your body is aching to say yes and your heart is about to beat its way out of your chest. “But…” “All I know is that I feel incomplete without you, like a part of my soul is somewhere else, and the only time I'm at peace is when I'm with you two. I can't keep living like a part of me is missing. So I'm asking you, please stay, please help us figure this out and be with us." Bucky’s arms wrap around your waist. "Every time I see you with someone else my heart gets ripped out of my chest and I've tried to be with other people, we both have, but in the end, they’re not you."

Their confessions break down your defenses as their words ring true. In all your relationships over the years, there's always been something missing but you've never been able to figure out what. There's been passion and there's been love but it's always lacking something and now you think you get it. It has lacked them and the deep connection you share through years and years of friendship. Feeling stupid about wanting to leave and thinking you weren’t ready to be with them makes tears well in your eyes. Whatever it is you three can figure it out, it may not be traditional but it beats being unhappy.

"Don't cry, Sweets." Steve runs his thumb over your cheek. You lean your head into his chest, nodding against it. "I'll stay," you sniffle. The arms around your waist tighten and Bucky speaks into your shoulder. "Really Sweets?" he sounds like he’s worried that maybe you're joking.

"Really Bucky," you promise, wrapping your arms around Steve and hugging him close. For a moment it’s just the three of you enveloped in your shared love but then Bucky rights himself and you look up at him over your shoulder, matching his silly smile.

He leans in like he is about to kiss you but he stops himself, his eyes searching yours for something, and it's scary. If you take the plunge everything will change, or maybe it won't, but it feels like an earthquake is rolling through your life, upsetting everything and if you let him kiss you it will be real. But that's what you want.

"Please?" you ask him and his whole face lights up before he closes the distance and presses his lips to yours. It could be described as fireworks, an erupting volcano, or maybe feeling the first rays of sunlight on your skin after years in darkness, but nothing will come close to the feeling of being kissed by Bucky.

It's a chaste kiss with just his lips moving carefully against yours. It's over quicker than you want but in his place is Steve, turning your head back towards him and descending on you. His fingers run through your hair and he opens your mouth to let his tongue play with yours, the feeling once again indescribable, it's just the feeling of right. Everything about it feels right.

Even if the kiss is slow when he pulls back your breathing is labored and you're clutching his shirt. "I-" you begin but can’t find any words. That kiss ignited something inside you, it's like you're seeing color for the first time, everything is clearer and sharper. What even was your life before?

"Are doing okay Sweets?" Bucky asks next to your ear and you nod in response. When his soft lips caress the side of your neck you whimper and lean your head to give him better access, he chuckles against your skin, nipping it and making you gasp. "I wanna eat you up, find out what you taste like everywhere."

It’s a badly kept secret that Bucky has a marking kink. You’ve seen his exes, you know he's possessive and likes to leave marks. You can't wait to have them on you so you whisper, "Mark me.”

Steve chuckles above you. "She knows you, Bucky," he says with a smile. "You too, Steve, please?" You’re almost begging, but not quite, just asking nicely. "You want me to give you a hickey?" he asks with a crooked smile but those eyes are too easy to read. He craves you. "Or a bruise, or a bite mark, something, anything," "Fuck…" His face changes to match his dark eyes. "You want everyone to know you belong to us, Sweets?" he asks with a hoarse voice and you feel the large bulge in his pants press against your stomach.

You nod, biting your lip. "Show me how you do it, Bucky.” They spin you around and Bucky grabs at the collar of your blouse, pulling harshly, sending the buttons flying over the office. “Hey-” you begin but he pulls the fabric aside exposing the juncture between your shoulder and neck. First, he sinks his teeth in, hard enough for you to hiss but not breaking the skin, then he closes his lips and sucks.

It's painful but the act in itself makes you throb. When he pulls back you release your breath but Steve is quick to pull the neckline on the other side and do the exact same thing. He is gentler but when he's done there is still a purple bruise on your skin. "Fuck me," you whimper against Bucky.

"Yes, Sweets, we will. Long and hard until you can't take it anymore. We're going to ruin you." Steve promises before he grabs you and lifts you up, spinning you so you can wrap your legs around him as he starts walking to the bedroom, Bucky right behind you. You reach your hand out towards him and he grabs it, kissing your palm and knuckles. "We're going to take care of you Sweets, you'll never want for anything," he promises with a wicked smirk.

Steve places you on the edge of the bed and stands up, looking down at you. Bucky comes up beside him, resting his forearm on Steve's shoulder. "Look at our sweets, can you believe it?" Bucky asks. Steve turns to him with a smile. "Yes." Then he places two fingers under Bucky's chin, turning his head before kissing him. It's heated, filthy and it's the hottest thing you've ever seen. You squeeze your legs together to alleviate some of the pressure you're feeling in your cunt. Their kiss shows that it's nothing new, they've obviously done it before and you're a little mad that they have withheld this from you.

When Steve starts pulling on Bucky's clothes you can't keep the moan from slipping out. They both break away and turn to you and you feel small in the best way possible. "Did you like that?" Bucky asks before leaning down and kissing you.

The knowledge that his tongue was just in Steve's mouth and is now sliding against yours makes you moan again. You start undoing the buttons on his shirt and he pulls on your top. When you separate, he pulls it off and you’re left in just your bralette. Steve makes a sound in the back of his throat at the sight and starts taking off his own clothes.

Bucky kneels in front of you on the floor, unbuttoning your pants and pulling them off, while you stare at Steve as more and more skin is revealed. He holds your gaze the whole time and you bite your lip when he starts at his pants. His chest and forearms are huge, covered in tattoos but in no way hiding the muscle underneath. It makes your mouth water and your cunt clench.

Bucky starts kissing up your bare leg, beginning at your ankles and slowly working his way up your calve and the inside of your thigh. When you're still staring at Steve he nips your skin. "I know he's gorgeous but when I eat your pussy I want your eyes on me, Sweets." He tries to look offended but his pupils are blown wide with lust.

Just the thought of him between your legs makes a shiver run through you and your cunt impossibly wetter. Nodding at him you caress the side of his face and watch him, the closer he gets, the more you start to tremble with need. No one had ever made you feel so needy and horny.

Bucky kisses your cunt through your underwear, making you gasp. "Please Bucky, I need you." "I know, I can smell how fucking wet you are Sweets." He twists your panties out of the way. "Fuck, Steve, look at her, she's dripping."

Steve, in just his underwear now, slides his fingers gently through the mess, making you tremble and moan, before bringing the fingers to his mouth and holding your gaze as he licks them clean. Then Bucky's mouth is on you, his tongue licking from your core up to your clit.

"Fuck-fuck-fuck-" you cry and grab the sheets under you, bucking up into his touch. Steve chuckles and gets behind you on the bed. "He looks like he's in heaven, Sweets. He has wanted you for so long." You feel his fingers undo the clasp of your bra and then slide it off. His hands cup your tits a second later, making more sounds spill out of your mouth. His fingers rub, caress, and pull on your nipples while Bucky is hurdling you toward your climax.

"I'm- I'm gonna-" Your legs shake and you grab Steve's arm with one hand, the other going to Bucky's head, grabbing his short hair. Every muscle in your body tenses right before the coil snaps, making you scream out your release, riding Bucky's face and feeling the pleasure-filled waves travel through your body.

You slump against Steve's and he holds you. Bucky pulls back with a shit-eating grin, wiping his face with the back of his hand, saying "Fuck Sweets," before he stands up and starts taking off his clothes.

You already feel amazing, high off your orgasm but you want more and Steve's hard-on is pressing into your back. You turn around on the bed. "Move up," you tell him and his smirk is knowing but he does as you say and moves to sit against the headboard.

You rid yourself of your drenched panties before grabbing his boxers and pulling them off. "Eager Sweets?" he chuckles and fists his cock as soon as it's free. It's thick and long as him and you can't fucking wait. You bite your lip before asking "Condom?"

"I know we should but I want to feel you raw Sweets,” he confesses. “Are you on birth control?" "Sure, and I got tested the week after…" you trail off not wanting the bad memories to ruin the moment. Bucky's heat is suddenly behind you, grabbing your hair and forcing your head back to kiss you deeply. When he lets go he says, "Steve and I got tested like a week before you moved in and I've not even looked another person's way since then." Steve laughs "And I haven't fucked anyone either so get over here and ride my cock Sweets."

To say you scramble is an accurate description, quickly shuffling over to him and straddling his hips. You hold onto his shoulders as he swipes the head of his cock through your mess, holding it still for you to sink down on.

All three of you moan in unison as his dick disappears into your tight hot channel. The grip Steve has on your hips is almost bruising and the look on his face is painful. “F-fuck. Sweets. Damn.” Is all he gets out. You lean in, kissing his cheeks and chin and lips, and start to move, slowly, the feeling is amazing, he's filling you up to the brim perfectly.

"Feels so good," you stutter and then drop down hard. "I'm never watching porn again," Bucky says from behind you and you watch him over your shoulder, kneeling on the bed and jerking his cock. You whine in the back of your throat, you want him too, so you reach for him as you bounce on Steve's cock, making him spill the most delicious sounds.

Bucky shuffles over and you grab his dick in your hand, he's big enough that it doesn't fit all the way around. His hand lands on Steve's shoulder to steady himself and Steve reaches out to place a hand on his hip.

The sounds the three of you make fill the room. It's moans, groans, and whimpers, the sound of slapping skin and squelching wetness. Your clit is steadily rubbing against Steve, getting you closer and closer. Bucky is panting heavily, Steve is too.

"Sweets, I can feel you. Are you gonna come on my cock?" Steve is trying to sound unaffected and failing miserably, but he continues to spill filth that rushes you toward the edge. "When I've filled you up, Bucky is gonna fuck my cum right back into you, aren't you Buck?" "Fuck yes," he groans before leaning in and kissing you deeply. “I wanna see you come on his cock Sweets.”

"Next time I wanna feel both of you come in me at the same time," you whimper. "Sweets, you goddamn slut." Steve groans with a laugh and bucks up into you harder. "Tell us more! Please! I want to hear every filthy little thought hidden inside that mind."

You turn to look at Bucky. "I want both of you in every hole. I want you to use me like I'm a toy and worship me like a queen," you tell him, then turn to Steve. "Put my name on the house and celebrate it by fucking in every room, on every surface, show me all of your kinks, give me everything."

Steve's eyes are screwed shut and he's let go of Bucky to grab your hips, pulling you down onto his big cock. "Keep going," you urge him, your release just a few thrusts away. But he's too close and before you can get there he suddenly sits up to wrap his arms around your waist, crushing you against his chest, thrusting up hard, and comes with a loud moan of your name.

You feel wild, right on the edge of ecstasy but left dangling in mid-air. With pleading eyes and a whine you look at Bucky who smirks at you before pulling you away from Steve and laying you on your back. A second later he fills you up, the sound of his cock pushing through Steve's mess is as sweet as it's nasty.

"Please, Bucky, please," you beg. "Yeah I know, don't worry, not gonna blow my load early," he taunts over his shoulder at Steve who just gives him the finger. "Understand him though, you’re so tight and warm Sweets. Makes me a bit crazy. I just want to fill you up over and over again," he confesses.

"I need to-" you begin but he cuts you off. "Rub your clit for me. Come on my cock," he demands but you know something that is even better than your own fingers and you reach out your arm.

"Steve," you plead and he crawls over to you and lays down beside you, pushing his hand in between your bodies, finding your clit. You arch off the bed with his touch, hands clutching Bucky's arms as he rams into you. The dual sensation is amazing and with how close you were seconds ago the end approaches quickly. Your moans get louder the closer you get and both Bucky and Steve praise you the whole way through.

"You sound so fucking pretty."

"I can barely move you gripping me so tight."

"You're so good at taking cock, Sweets. First mine and now Bucky's, it's like you were made for us."

You nod at the last thing and the pressure in your body is breaking, making your muscles convulse, almost pushing Bucky out with how hard you're coming, screaming their names as you do.

"Fuck! Yes, Sweets!" Bucky’s laugh is a little manic as he works you through it. "I'm going to fill our sweet little cunt with more cum." His hips stutter against you before he groans out your name and collapses on top of you. You run your fingers over his sweaty back and kiss his cheek. Then you turn to Steve, smiling at him beside you. "He's heavy," you complain.

Both of them laugh and Bucky rolls off before they move until you're squeezed in between them, their cum running down your legs, making a mess on the bed. Fortunately, you have at least two other beds to sleep in.

For a few months, you're walking on air. In a throuple with your two best friends, amazing sex, luxury beyond what you could have ever imagined. They constantly spoil you and they've tried to convince you to quit your job since you don't need to work when you're with them.

Tonight you're in another fancy restaurant. Bucky is trying to feed you chocolate cake because it's romantic but you tell him over and over again that you can eat by yourself. Suddenly Steve stiffens beside you and since he isn't known to have tells, you immediately get worried and follow his gaze.

John is standing at the door with a pretty girl on his arm, talking to the waiter and then being shown to a table. Next to yours.

When your eyes meet he stops for a second and his date shoots confused looks between the two of you, before you nod and he nods back, then moves again and sits down.

Steve asks for the check and you're out of your seat and outside the restaurant in no time. Bucky holds your coat as you put it on and a moment later Steve comes out too. His eyes are black with hate and when you're finally in the car you realize that you can't live like this.

"I think-" you begin, swallowing then clearing your throat, "I think I'm going to need those lawyers."

[colouredbyd]

Back In Safe Arms

mafia!stucky x reader ┃ 5k

summary: what was supposed to be an ordinary day takes a sharp turn when you notice a stranger stalking you. before you know it, you’re held hostage by one of your boyfriends’ most dangerous enemies. with danger rising and time running out, steve and bucky will stop at nothing to bring you back in safe arms.

warnings: kidnapping, hostage situation, reader is in college, violence, blood, injuries, weapons, guns, verbal threats, swearing, emotional distress, panic, fear, protective behavior, possessive behavior, intense anger, mentions of torture, restraint, angst, hurt/comfort, trauma, post-rescue comfort, steve and bucky being terrifying to enemies but gentle to you.

One principle your boyfriends had instilled in you from the very beginning, taught with both quiet urgency and lived example, was this: never doubt your instincts. 

Trust them without delay. Respond to them without pride. Ignore them, and you risk everything. Bucky had said it once with the calm steel of experience, and Steve had only looked at you with that soft, solemn expression he wore when speaking of things he had lost. You had taken the lesson to heart.

But what precisely could be wrong now?

The café was warm and familiar, filled with the familiar aroma of ground espresso and buttered pastry. Light streamed through the tall, paned windows, casting long rectangles of morning gold across the polished wooden floors. 

Students bustled in and out with the distracted energy of people who lived on caffeine and looming deadlines. A small bell above the entrance rang with each new arrival, its cheery tone doing little to interrupt your concentration. You had come here countless times, and nothing had ever once felt out of place.

Yet today, you could not shake the sensation.

The feeling settled into you gradually, the way cold water seeps through fabric — a slow, creeping unease that you could neither name nor dispel. You looked up from your notebook, the pages filled with notes on postmodernist theory and economic ethics, and allowed your gaze to scan the space with quiet precision. 

Your eyes moved from the counter to the door, from the students to the far corners of the room, from the windows to the street beyond.

Nothing. Everything appeared precisely as it should.

Still, your hands had stilled against your tablet, your fingers frozen mid-sentence. That was the second sign. The first was the prickling at the back of your neck, that near-mythical alertness that every woman knows and every soldier respects — the kind that tells you when eyes are fixed upon you. You resisted the urge to turn too quickly, instead allowing your gaze to drift lazily across the room, as though distracted by a passing thought.

And then you saw him.

Seated alone in the far back corner, tucked into the shadows where the sunlight did not reach, was a man who did not belong. Not because of what he was doing — he held a coffee cup like anyone else, sitting in feigned stillness — but because of what he was hiding. 

His cap was drawn low over his brow, and oversized sunglasses concealed the rest of his face. His shoulders were broad, his arms thick with muscle, and though he attempted to appear casual, there was a stillness about him that rang false. It was the stillness of someone waiting.

Your blood chilled. Every part of your mind screamed at you to move.

You did not look at him again. You did not allow yourself the indulgence of a second glance. Instead, you began to gather your things with calculated calm, stacking your notebook atop your tablet, slipping them into your satchel with hands that only trembled once. 

Your heart was pounding now, but you breathed through it, just as Natasha had taught you, just as Steve had reminded you — keep the panic low and the pace steady.

Still, regret clawed at your chest.

You should have brought Natasha.

She had offered, as she always did. But this morning, in your foolish optimism, you had told her not to bother, that you would be fine on your own, that you would only be studying at the café for a few short hours. 

She had narrowed her eyes, unimpressed, but eventually conceded. You had dismissed her concerns with a flippant wave and a kiss on the cheek. Now, the only person you could think to call was the one you had deliberately left behind.

Your fingers shook as you hit her name on your phone.

One ring.

Two.

Three.

The bell over the door chimed as you stepped outside, the cold air biting against your skin. You did not look back. You did not need to. The sound of footsteps followed seconds later, steady and too close behind.

Natasha answered on the fourth ring, her voice calm but laced with a readiness that made your chest loosen just a little. "Hey there, sugar."

You didn’t return the greeting. Your breath hitched, and your voice came out in a whisper. "Nat… I think someone’s following me. I— I don’t know what to do."

There was silence for half a second. Then the sounds of movement erupted in the background — metal clattering, something heavy being dropped, followed by Natasha barking orders to someone, likely Sam.

"Where are you?" she demanded.

But before you could respond, she added, almost to herself, "No, forget it. I have your location. Stay on the phone. Do not stop moving. Do not talk to anyone. Do not go somewhere unfamiliar. Keep walking. I’m coming to you right now."

“I’m really scared, Nat, he’s walking right behind me.”

"Keep the phone to your ear. I want to hear everything. Don’t run, don’t look back again. Just act normal. You hear me?"

"Yeah," you nodded, voice barely audible. 

Her voice remained steady, but you could hear the sharp urgency buried just beneath the surface, that tactical edge you had only ever seen emerge when she was in protective mode. 

You opened your mouth to speak again, to tell her the street you had just turned down, to confirm the direction you were headed.

But then you felt it.

A hand — rough, broad, and cold — clamped over your mouth. A cloth pressed hard against your lips, soaked in something sharp and sickly sweet. 

Your scream caught in your throat as your body instinctively jerked away, but it was too late. The world spun violently, and your limbs grew leaden. You heard Natasha’s voice shouting your name through the phone, which now lay somewhere on the pavement, forgotten.

The man chuckled. A low, pleased sound, the kind that settles in the pit of the stomach like ice.

You watched, barely conscious, as the heel of his boot ground your phone beneath it with an almost casual brutality. 

The last thing you saw before the darkness took you completely was his silhouette turning, dragging you backwards, and the soft, indifferent buzz of the city continuing around you as though nothing at all had changed.

***

“What the fuck do you mean she’s gone?” Steve’s voice exploded, shattering the tension that had settled over the room like a storm about to break. The words came out strangled, disbelief and rage wrapped around each syllable like a noose.

Sam flinched. “She was at a coffee shop studying when she called Natasha saying someone’s following her. And then the signal—just cut. She’s not picking up. She’s not—”

Bucky didn’t wait for the rest.

His chair scraped back so violently it slammed into the floor behind him, but he didn’t so much as glance at the damage. His movements were all instinct now—sharp, clean, lethal. 

A practiced hand disappeared beneath his tailored jacket, retrieving the sleek black pistol holstered under his ribs. The steel glinted coldly under the chandelier, a flash of silver fury. His face was a mask of ruin. Something feral cracked through his carefully restrained calm—an expression so raw and wrathful even Sam backed up a step.

“I’m gonna fucking kill Vincest.” Bucky snapped, more to himself than to anyone else, and then he was moving.

Steve was right behind him, fury giving chase to fear.

“Where the fuck was her tail?” Steve demanded as they reached the foyer, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles blanched. “Who was watching her?!”

“She didn’t want anyone accompanying her,” Sam shouted after them, breathless. “She said she just needed a minute alone.”

Steve’s face twisted with fury, veins bulging in his neck. His voice rose, sharp and unforgiving, cutting through the room like a blade. “And why the fuck would anyone let her go alone?!”

He slammed his fist into the wall, the sound reverberating like a gunshot. “I don’t care if she’s stepping across the goddamn street to buy a damn coffee. You watch her. You accompany her. You make sure she doesn’t become someone else’s goddamn target. You keep her safe—or so help me, I will tear this entire operation apart piece by piece.”

His gaze burned into every single man standing there, his voice lowering but no less dangerous. “This isn’t just some fuck-up we can sweep under the rug. This is her life. And if any of you think for one second that you can just screw around and let her slip through your fingers—”

He cut himself off with a growl, his breath ragged. Then, with cold steel in his voice, he screamed, “Go! Go fucking search for her. Take orders from Natasha, from me, from whoever the hell. I don’t care how messy it gets, how many streets you tear apart, how many lives you burn through—she must be found.”

The room fell into a tense silence broken only by the sound of men scrambling, shouting confirmations, and the sharp clicks of weapons being readied.

Just then, the door slammed open with force, and Natasha strode in, face pale but determined.

“We found the warehouse,” she announced, voice steady despite the urgency. “She’s being held hostage by Vincent.”

Natasha was there, pacing like a caged panther, voice low and razor-sharp as she barked into her earpiece. Her eyes snapped to them the moment they appeared. No words, no pleasantries. Just a nod that screamed move.

“The last ping was five minutes ago, outside the library,” she said tightly, already handing Bucky a tablet with the paused CCTV footage. “Someone tailed her out. She clocked it. Called me scared out of her fucking mind.”

Steve snatched the tablet out of Bucky’s hands, eyes scanning like a man possessed. “Find him,” he growled. “I don’t care if you have to torch the whole goddamn city to do it.”

“We already are,” Natasha said, her voice like ice over flame. “I have four cars on standby and air support tracking the streets. But if they laid a trap—”

“They fucking won’t touch her.” Bucky’s voice was death itself. Cold, final. “They won’t fucking get the chance.”

Steve grabbed Bucky’s arm, pulling him toward the nearest car. “Come on. We’re not waiting.”

The engine roared to life, the tires screeching against asphalt as Steve pushed the car beyond its limits, his jaw locked in grim determination. Bucky sat beside him, fingers tightening around the gun, every second that passed fanning the rage consuming him.

The city blurred past in streaks of steel and concrete. Their hearts beat to the same rhythm of dread, every red light ignored, every corner taken with reckless precision. The silence between them was not empty but charged, a storm waiting to break.

When Natasha’s voice crackled through the comm, announcing she had traced you to Warehouse 14, neither man hesitated. Steve swerved sharply into the docklands, the car jolting as it tore across the uneven ground.

They did not pause. They did not plan. Bucky leapt out before the car had even fully stopped, his weapon raised, his movements mercilessly efficient. Steve followed, his own gun drawn, his shoulders squared in lethal resolve.

The first guard did not even have time to shout before Bucky’s bullet split the air and sent him crumpling to the ground. Another man tried to run, but Steve’s shot tore through his leg, dropping him instantly. The warehouse echoed with gunfire, shouts, and the thunder of boots as they moved forward, room by room, door by door, leaving no corner unchecked.

They were a tempest of violence and precision, their eyes cold, their fury a sharpened blade. Every obstacle was dismantled with terrifying ease, every man who stood in their way silenced before he could even raise his weapon.

And still, underneath the steel and blood, there was one thought alone, thrumming through their veins like a war drum: find you.

As Steve and Bucky surged through the final corridors of the warehouse, a tumult of thoughts collided in their minds. 

They had been here before, in the shadows of power, surrounded by the evidence of their own ruthlessness. They had commanded fear, taken lives without hesitation, and navigated a world where weakness was punished without mercy. 

And yet, despite all the blood they had shed, despite every crime they had committed and every advantage they had wielded, they felt something entirely alien now: helplessness at the thought of what state they might find you in.

Bucky’s jaw tightened as he imagined the worst, his hands curling around his gun until the metal creaked under the strength of his grip. Steve’s eyes narrowed, every instinct screaming that every second you were in the hands of another was a second too long, that the slightest delay could undo everything they had built to protect you.

Then, as they burst into the final storage room, their eyes locked on a figure standing directly before you, an audacious smirk twisting his face. 

Tall, lean, and cruelly composed, the man’s dark clothing clung to him like a shadow. In his hands was a gun, leveled squarely at Steve’s head. His name was Vincent Karras, a man whose reputation for sadistic cunning rivaled only their own histories.

Before Steve could even blink, before the air could carry the threat of a single word, Bucky’s finger tightened on the trigger. 

Two bullets tore into Vincent’s knees, each one precise and deliberate, forcing him to collapse in a howl of pain. He fell hard to the ground, still alive, still aware, a pawn left for the retribution yet to come. Bucky’s eyes did not waver; he had no intention of mercy, only the certainty that the threat to you would be extinguished swiftly.

Steve acted instantly. He shoved Vincent’s screaming, writhing body aside with a strength born of desperation and fury, his heart hammering as he lunged toward you. 

He crouched beside your bound form, hands moving expertly to free you from the ropes that bit into your wrists and ankles. The gag fell away from your mouth, and your muffled cries erupted into full, heart-wrenching sobs.

In the next instant, you were in his arms. Steve held you against his chest, pressing you close as though the very act of holding you could undo the horrors you had endured. Your sobs shook his body, each one a dagger to his own heart, and he whispered fervently, words tumbling over themselves in his urgent need to reassure you.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. You’re safe. You’re okay,” Steve murmured, his voice low and steady, every word soaked in tenderness. 

His lips brushed gently against your hair, then your forehead—anywhere he could press them to make sure you felt his presence, his unwavering protection. “Fuck. Are you hurt? Did he do anything to you, baby? Please talk to me. Please tell me what happened.”

You hiccuped against his chest, shaking your head violently, your tears soaking into the fabric of his shirt. The sobs wracked your body like a storm barely contained. “I’m not hurt,” you managed, voice trembling between the breaks. “I’m not hurt. I just… I was so scared. I thought you wouldn’t find me. I thought you were never coming.”

Steve’s hands cupped your face, pulling you gently but firmly back so his eyes could meet yours. His own were glassy, heavy with a raw mixture of relief, anger, and a fierce, aching protectiveness. 

“Hey, hey, baby. Listen to me, okay? I will always find you. Always. No matter what. I swear to you, I will never fail to find you. If I have to tear this entire world apart, I will.” His voice cracked, thick with emotion. “I am so, so sorry you had to go through this. None of this was supposed to happen. Not to you.”

Bucky knelt down beside you both, gun still poised and ready, his eyes darting across the room, scanning every shadow. 

But even as his gaze searched for danger, the tension in his jaw softened when he looked at you. His hands twitched, longing to hold you, to pull you close and never let go. The weight of the terror and helplessness he felt twisted inside him, but he masked it behind that cold, calculated exterior—the shield he wore for you.

Steve tightened his arms around you, pulling you as close as if sheer force could erase the nightmare you’d endured. “You’re safe now,” he whispered, voice fierce and desperate. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. I won’t let this happen again. I swear it, love. You hear me? Not ever again.”

You nodded, burying your face deep into his chest, your tears still flowing but your body beginning to still, soothed by the warmth and strength that surrounded you. You could feel the electric pulse of fury radiating from both men, a silent promise etched in every tense muscle and guarded breath: no one would ever hurt you again.

Steve carried you gently through the warehouse doors, your trembling form clinging to him as though letting go would mean the end of the world.The black-shaded cars waited silently, engines idling like predatory beasts, their sleek frames reflecting the cold glow of the streetlights.

Just as Steve approached the nearest vehicle, the moment he had intended to set you down, your sobs returned in a fresh, violent wave. Your head pressed into his chest, your fingers clutching at the fabric of his shirt as though it were the only lifeline left in existence.

“No, no, no,” you whimpered, your voice cracking. “Please, don’t leave me alone, Steve. I don’t want to… I don’t want to be alone right now.”

Steve froze for a heartbeat, startled by the raw panic in your tone. Then he pulled you even closer, adjusting his hold so your trembling body could feel the full measure of his arms. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he murmured softly, his lips brushing against the crown of your head. “I am right here. I am not leaving you. I just have to go for a minute to deal with something, alright?”

You shook your head frantically, the motion urgent and insistent. “No, Steve. I don’t want to be alone!”

His lips pressed against your chest, just above your heart, in a tender, grounding gesture. “Bucky will be here with you, yeah? I will not let you be alone. He is not going anywhere.”

The mere mention of Bucky’s name brought an almost immediate relief, a shiver of hope that ran through your body. You lifted your gaze and saw him standing a few feet away, his broad frame illuminated by the pale light, eyes locked on you with unwavering concern. 

He began to close the distance, and as he wrapped an arm securely around you, your shoulders began to relax, the tension of terror easing into a fragile comfort.

Steve and Bucky exchanged a brief, loaded glance. Steve gave a subtle nod, one that acknowledged the mission still waiting for him inside, and then turned back toward the warehouse, likely to confront Vincent or ensure no other threats remained.

Bucky, meanwhile, pressed a kiss to your hair before pulling you fully into his chest, the warmth of his body and the steady rhythm of his breathing acting like a balm on your frayed nerves. “You okay, sweet girl?” he murmured, his voice husky but gentle.

You nodded, still letting your face rest against him. “Mhm. I just… I just want to go back home.”

He smiled softly, the kind of smile that held both relief and quiet adoration. “Yeah. Let’s go, doll. Steve and Natasha will be following us shortly. You’re safe. I promise you that.”

Bucky led you to the car, holding your hand as you climbed into the passenger seat. He helped you buckle your seatbelt, making sure you were secure before pressing a tender kiss into your temple. 

“You’re such a strong girl, you know that?” he said, his thumb brushing gently across your cheek as his gaze lingered on you. “Even when you’re scared, you never stop being strong. And I will always make sure you are safe. I swear to you, nothing will hurt you again while I am here.”

You leaned back against the seat, letting yourself sink into the reassurance of his arms and words. 

The ride back is silent, except for the occasional rustle of Bucky’s jacket as he shifts the wheel with white-knuckled precision. His jaw is clenched so tight you’re surprised his teeth haven’t cracked. The streets blur by in a haze of golden light and dust, but all you can see is his reflection in the window—stone-faced, lethal, ruined.

When you get home, he doesn’t say anything. He just lifts you gently from the car like you weigh nothing, carrying you through the front door and past the wide marble halls of the estate. 

In the bathroom, he sits you on the counter. He kneels to untie your shoes and slips them off with reverent hands, as if even your shoelaces had been bruised by the day. He’s quiet. Too quiet.

Then, the water starts. Warm. Steaming. He helps you undress, moving slowly like you might shatter if he rushes, and washes away the dirt, the blood, the dust of the place you were kept. He doesn’t speak—not when he rinses your hair, not when he runs a cloth over your back. But his hands shake. Like he’s barely holding it together.

When you’re finally dry and warm again, wrapped in one of his shirts, you follow him to the bedroom. He sets you down on the edge of the bed and disappears for a second, returning with a small medical kit.

“Hold still, doll,” he murmurs as he kneels in front of you.

Your wrists are red and irritated. Rope burns in angry circles. He takes his time cleaning them, brushing ointment over the raw skin with careful fingers. You wince once, and he pauses immediately, looking up.

“Sorry,” he breathes, voice breaking just a little. “I’ll be gentle.”

You nod, throat tight.

He finishes bandaging the last wrist and kisses it. 

Then comes the conversation you’ve been dreading.

“From now on,” Bucky began slowly, his voice soft but resolute, “you don’t leave the house without Natasha. Not for a second. Not even to step outside the door alone.”

You blink, caught off guard by the suddenness of his words. “What?”

“You heard me,” he said again, his tone firmer this time, though still gentle. “You don’t go anywhere unless Nat is with you. I mean it.”

A tight knot formed in your stomach, twisting with frustration. “Bucky, that’s insane. I’m not a child.”

He stayed kneeling before you, looking up with those steady eyes that always seemed to see right through you. “You’re not a child, no. But you’re ours. And after what happened…” He swallowed hard, the weight of those words hanging heavily between you. “We can’t afford to take that risk again. Not ever.”

You let out a sharp breath, the frustration bubbling up from deep inside your chest. “Natasha has better things to do than babysit me. She’s not just my bodyguard. She’s your partner—your right hand in this whole business, this mafia world you live in. She probably wants to be out there, running things, making moves. Not stuck following me to classes or running errands or… whatever boring stuff fills my days.”

Bucky’s brow furrowed slightly, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Boring?”

You nodded, biting your lip. “I know her. She’s the kind of woman who thrives on action. On plans. On missions. I don’t want her to feel trapped just because she’s with me.”

He reached out then, his rough hands enveloping yours with a tenderness that made your heart ache. “Doll, trust me when I say Natasha wouldn’t get bored with you. Not for a second.”

You looked away, embarrassed by how vulnerable you felt.

“Besides,” he continued, his voice dropping to a softer, almost reverent tone, “you didn’t see what she was like when you went missing. She was just as frantic, just as desperate as Steve and me. Maybe even worse.”

His thumbs brushed lightly over your knuckles. “She sees you as her little sister.”

A sting burned at the corners of your eyes, and you blinked rapidly to keep the tears at bay.

At that moment, the door creaked open. Steve stepped inside quietly.

He looked clean now, the dark clothes he wore fresh and unblemished—not like the bloodstained ones from before. You realized with a cold knot in your stomach that those had belonged to someone else.

Without a word, he walked over to you, cupped your face gently, and pressed a kiss to your temple. Your eyes fluttered closed at the simple touch.

Then he settled beside you on the bed. For a long moment, he said nothing, only resting a steady hand on your thigh. 

“You scared the hell out of us,” he says finally. His voice is rough. Almost hoarse. “I thought I was going to kill everyone in that building.”

You open your mouth, but he’s already shaking his head.

“Don’t apologize,” he whispers. “Just... promise me you’ll be more careful.”

“I didn’t choose this,” you say quietly. “I didn’t know he’d grab me—”

“I know, baby girl.” His hand tightens on your leg. “It’s not your fault. None of it is. But it’s why we need to protect you. Even if you hate it.”

You turn then, shifting on the bed so you’re facing Steve fully. Your hands come up to cradle his face, thumbs brushing over the stubble lining his jaw. His eyes—those stormy blues still heavy with worry—soften just a fraction under your touch.

“I know you won’t let me be alone again,” you murmur, voice small but steady. “I know that. But don’t you think… maybe it’s a little too much, having Natasha follow me everywhere?”

Your sentence cuts off when Steve exhales sharply, a sigh heavy enough to sag his shoulders. His big hand comes up to cover one of yours where it rests against his cheek, holding it there like it’s his anchor.

“Sweetheart,” he says softly, voice low and rough around the edges. “I don’t care if it sounds like too much. You have to understand… when we didn’t know where you were, when Sam came in and told us you were gone—I swear, I couldn’t breathe. I thought I’d already lost you. And I can’t—” His voice catches, and he swallows hard, shaking his head as if he can banish the thought. 

“I can’t ever feel that again. So if that means Natasha shadows you every second of the day, then that’s what’s happening. I need you safe. I need you here.”

Your chest tightens at the rawness in his tone. He presses his forehead to yours, his breath shaky as if he’s still pulling himself back from the edge.

“I can’t lose you,” Steve whispers, softer now, almost like a prayer. “So just… let me take care of you. Please.”

Before you can respond, Bucky’s voice rumbles beside you, quiet but firm.

“He’s right, doll.” You glance over at him, and the sight of him—still crouched near, still watching you like you’re the only thing that matters—makes your throat ache. 

You bite your lip, looking down, but Bucky tips your chin up gently with his finger, forcing you to meet his eyes. They’re bright with conviction, but also unbearably soft.

“We’re not asking for much. Just… let us keep you safe. Let us breathe knowing that Natasha’s there when we can’t be.” His thumb strokes over your jaw. “That woman would tear down the whole world if it meant protecting you.”

Steve hums in agreement, his hand still cupping the side of your face. “Natasha wants to do this. Don’t take that choice away from her.”

Your eyes flick between the two men—the desperation in Steve’s, the fierce devotion in Bucky’s—and the resistance you’d been holding onto starts to crumble.

“I just…” you whisper, voice cracking. “I don’t want to be a problem. I don’t want to drag either of you.”

Bucky shifts then, slips an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his solid warmth while Steve still holds your hand. Sandwiched between them, you feel cocooned, your protest melting beneath the weight of their care.

“Love,” Bucky says softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “You could never be a problem. You’re the best damn thing that’s happened to any of us.”

Steve presses a kiss to your temple again, lingering. “All we’re asking is that you let us do our job—keeping you safe. That’s it. You don’t have to carry the weight of whether it’s too much or not. You just have to be here with us.”

For a long moment, you sit in silence, wrapped up in the warmth of their words and their bodies pressed close on either side. Slowly, the tightness in your chest eases, and the tears you’d been fighting finally spill, but this time they’re softer—relief instead of fear.

Steve wipes them away with his thumb before they can trail down your cheeks. “There she is,” he murmurs, smiling faintly. “There’s our girl.”

You let out a shaky laugh, muffled as you bury your face against Steve’s chest, Bucky’s arm tightening around your back.

And for the first time since it all happened, you believe them; you really are back in safe arms.

[glenpowelljr]

BRING IT HOME

[theglenaissance]

New photoshoot for smash kitchen!

[queendice-blog]

Reblog if you love the person in your icon.

[poobletoods]

i call this phenomenon "god hates me"

[butdaddyilovehimmm]

Oh nothing... just thinking of Harvey's "Dom Voice"...

[rvspecter]

"YOU ACTUALLY CAME?!?!!??!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!"

[spectersgf]

— beach getaway 𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃

pairing: harvey specter x reader

summary: the ocean treated you almost as well as he did. almost.

warnings: very fluffy, sigh. my speciality.

wordcount: 1.2k

a/n: impulsive, silly, not planned or proofread. just wanted to write. just love the beach. just love harvey specter. listened to so much guilty as sin while writing. lord.

(if you want to be tagged in future fics or if you have any requests, let me know! for my other fics, here's my masterlist!)

“Hello, Mr. Specter,” you answered the phone after seeing your boyfriend’s caller ID and contact picture flash on your phone. 

“Hello, Mrs. Specter.” You could hear the playful glint he had in his eye through the sound of his voice. “See, that’s funny because we aren’t married yet.”

“You really are a chronic joke repeater, aren’t you?”

“You love me for it.” Harvey was right – you did love him despite his repeated jokes. He never failed to make you giggle with this joke structure and he knew it. Hence why he never let it go. 

“If you say so, Harvey. How was your day?” you asked, settling on your hotel couch with your freshly made coffee – dash of vanilla, the way Harvey made it for you. You set the mug down on the side table, finger tracing the rim as you listened to your lover’s comforting voice come through the speaker of your phone.

“Oh, y’know. Closed a huge client, saved the world, looked hot doing it.” You couldnt hold back your giggle at his comment. This was a common way for Harvey to respond to your questions about his day, never giving details in the first insance, but never missing a chance to stroke his own ego. “Missed you the whole time, though.”

There was a very common misconception about him – about him being cold and stonehearted. Harvey was one of the biggest softies you’d ever met; he had immediately taken to you when you met 2 years ago and made sure to look out for you, even if he would playfully give you shit. You considered yourself extremely lucky to be let in to his softest and most vulnerable side and you never took it for granted, always ensuring he knew how much you appreciated his trust, and how much it was reciprocated. 

“I missed me, too. And Mike and Donna and Rachel. Even Louis.” You were teasing him and he knew it. Harvey could take it just as much as he could dish it out and it made for a wonderful dynamic between the two of you.

“Yeah, whatever. What did you do today, hm?”  You pouted thinking back on your Harvey-less day, knowing that you had missed him, too. You let out a deep, overly dramatic sigh before responding.

“Oh, y’know. Had a hotel nap, went for a walk on the beach during the sunset, looked hot doing it.” You smiled as you recounted your day in the same style as he did, despite your lingering sadness that he hadn’t joined you on your four-day beach getaway. “Wish you could’ve joined me.” Your pout had returned and Harvey could hear it in your voice.

Just as you went to pick up your mug and take a sip of your coffee, you heard the FaceTime tone come from your phone. You eagerly accepted, bouncing slightly at the thought of seeing your love’s face appear on your screen despite it only being a day since you’d seen him last.

All of your sadness melted away the second you saw him. A bright smile appeared on both of your faces, starry eyed and cheeks slightly flushed. 

“God,” he mumbled, “you’re so pretty.” Harvey’s hushed words made your cheeks flush deeper and you hid your face behind your coffee mug. “Don’t hide from me, pretty girl. The ocean has treated you so well already.”

He was right. You lived and worked in the city, but you needed a beachy getaway to keep you sane and happy. 

“The ocean treats me almost as well as you do,” you whispered, stroking your phone screen with a feather-light touch, heart hurting at the sight of your lover. He smiled in response but didn’t say anything. Harvey was notoriously bad at accepting compliments like this – one’s that complimented his vulnerable and soft side rather than the normal things like his looks or work ethic. “I wish you could’ve come with me. I miss you.”

“I know, baby. I miss you, too. But it won’t be long before you’re with me again, and we’ll do the next one together, abroad somewhere. Okay?”

You nodded your reply, nervous to speak from the threat of your tears falling in front of Harvey. You weren’t sure what had you so emotional, and you could see that it was upsetting Harvey to see you in this way.

“Will you at least stay while I get ready for bed?” You were speaking quietly, needlessly worried he’d reject your idea, craving his presence in your space and his arms around your frame.

“Of course I will. Always do.”

You busied yourself with putting your mug away and brushing your teeth to get ready for bed, you and Harvey engaging in a light and meaningless conversation. He kept joking with you and flirting with you as if you weren’t his long-term partner, and you welcomed the distraction. When you finally got into bed and tucked yourself in, Harvey had done the same. You both stayed on the phone with each other in your sleep, trying to mimic being in the same bed, even though you most certainly weren’t.

───────── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ─────────

You were woken up by a firm knock on your hotel room door. The light was cracking in through the curtains and when you checked your phone, the time read 10:43am. You always allowed yourself a lie in when you weren’t in the city, and today was no different. You padded across to the door and checked the peephole, wanting to see who was at your door before you opened it. To your dismay, the person on the other side of the door had covered the peephole; you reluctantly opened the door, still rubbing the sleep from your eyes. 

You heard his voice before you clocked that he was in your doorway. “Good morning, sleepyhead. Did someone ask for a wake-up call?” 

Harvey was in your hotel. At your door. Holding an overnight bag and his signature cheeky smile. Your heart swelled with joy and you immediately jumped into his arms, legs wrapped around his waist, tears prickling at your eyes. 

“You’re here, why are you here, what are you doing here?” Your words were rushed and joined together frantically, eager to understand how your boyfriend was in your beachside hotel rather than his New York City corner office. 

“I missed you, you missed me. Here I am.” He was holding you up with one hand, the other hand in your hair and his bag dropped onto the floor.

You tucked your face into his neck, kissing the skin there lightly, your hand tangled in his hair. “I can’t believe you’re really here,” you whispered, scared to speak any louder in case he evaporated away and this moment was exposed as a dream.

He pulled your head gently out from it’s spot resting on his shoulder, stroking your cheek and still holding you close to him. He leaned in to you, kissing you soft and gentle, as if you’d break right there in his hands. When he pulled away, he leaned his forehead on yours, still stroking your cheek with his thumb.

“Believe it. You needed me, here I am. Now let me in and let’s go back to bad.”

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

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