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↳ a court of thorns and roses — azriel ; cassian ; rhysand
⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ summary — you should’ve known that you were no match for her.
⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ character — steve rogers (marvel)
⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ content — angst
⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ notes — finally, an angst fic 🤭 reader works at shield,,,,, wrote this in one go so some things might not make sense lol the ending felt rushed too idk
~
When you got into a relationship with the Steve Rogers, you knew he still held Peggy close to his heart. And you understood. Really, you did. You knew from experience how hard it is to let go of your first love, especially since his story with Peggy was cut off abruptly just when it was just getting there.
You didn’t blame him, not one bit. You knew if the roles were reversed, he would have stayed for you too, so you stayed. But looking back, you just wished you had listened to your friends.
Your friends had told you, warned you that it will just end badly for you the moment you told them that Steve was showing interest in you. They had told you to run the other way, but you didn’t.
Your relationship with Steve had been... private. No, scratch that, your relationship with Steve was a secret. On his side, at least. You had spent every waking hour telling your friends about him and how he was as a lover. Meanwhile, his team didn’t even know you knew each other.
You did run in the same circles and worked in the same field, but you never bumped into him at work, never saw each other in public. He made sure of that. He never sought you out, he made sure to avoid your wing and your department.
You were hurt, of course you were, but he was quick to assure you that it was for your own safety, for your own good. He was quick to pull out the hero card, said the world is watching his every move, said he didn’t want you getting caught up in his mess.
And you, a naïve little thing stuck in rose-colored glasses, were quick to forgive him, quick to agree to be his dirty little secret, but looking back, you realized how stupid it all sounded. How incredibly stupid you were to believe him when he told you he didn’t want you getting caught up in his messes. You work in the same field, for heaven’s sake. You see what he sees, sometimes even worse. You deal with the same things he does and he had the nerve to tell you he was protecting you, and you had believed him.
And only when you left did you realize that he wasn’t protecting you; he just didn’t think you were good and strong and competent enough to protect yourself if it all came down to it. He didn’t think you could hold your own, like how Peggy could. Or how Peggy did.
You had stayed with Steve for two, almost three years, before the illusion of your so-called relationship was so rudely shattered by Steve himself.
You had been put in the same mission together for the first and last time. You had watched him from behind the crowd, in the corner of the quinjet. You admired him as he worked, almost completely caught up in his element.
Your heart then lurched when his eyes met yours, but then it cracked when you saw the indifference in them, instead of the softness that you were used to, that you were expecting. You didn’t pay any mind to it. After all, you two were at work. You had to be professional.
The crowd dispersed around him, moving around the cramped jet as they made the necessary preparations, but you remained standing in the corner, still watching him.
Your heart dropped to your stomach when you saw him pull out the familiar gold chain of the locket, then it broke completely when you saw the longing in his eyes as he stared at the photograph of his past lover.
You watched, but you never made a move to approach him.
Then, the mission successfully finished after long, grueling hours. The teams went to celebrate, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do so. Not when you had witnessed his yearning for his dead lover first hand, not when you finally had a confirmation to your suspicions.
Later that night, behind closed doors, you confronted him. You poured your heart out to him, telling him all about the hurt you felt when he pulled out the locket, how you felt like you were competing with someone who’s six feet under the ground, and how you were losing.
You felt raw and vulnerable as you bared your soul to him. You felt humiliated as you practically begged him to make a space for you in his heart. You felt pity for yourself as you begged to be loved and seen by your supposed lover.
Then, you froze in your spot as he finally broke, towering over you as he told you how he could never love you as much as he loved—and loves—Peggy, how you could never even come close to her, and how you were nothing but a mere distraction, ready to be thrown away the moment he deemed you useless.
But then, you thought that it was your fault for believing him.
You should’ve known that you were no match for her. Not when he buried his heart with her.
It felt so lonely when your dad suddenly left you alone in this world. It felt like you lost the light at the end of the tunnel, it was until your ex boyfriend, Charles came back to your life to keep his promise.
Not proofread!
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"Charles, how long?" Riccardo called out the driver, who seemed to be very quite from the beginning.
He swallowed the tender meat from his dish, wiping his mouth with the tissue he had in hand. Charles hadn’t been participating in the group chat that much because this was his first meal of the day and he was starving. He skipped dinner last night because he hardly had any energy to cook anything. "How long, what?"
"Your break." Martha filled in on behalf of his boyfriend.
"Ah, just two weeks.” And just like that, the conversation ended, and he continued back to his meal while eavesdropping on the talk amongst his group of friends until one of the topics perked up his ears.
"Did you give Y/N a call?"
"Yeah."
"Is she doing alright?"
"No, of course not. She tried to sound bubbly just so I wouldn’t worry too much, but I know she still cries herself to sleep."
"He was all she had. I wasn’t even expecting her to be fine right away."
"Yeah, and she was really close with him too."
He wanted to say something but his body seemed to be making its own decision before he could make up his mind. Few of his friends looked his way as he cleared his throat, knowing very well he had something to say.
"What happened to Y/N?” He questioned, eyes went on the couple. Charles saw the way Martha gave a little glance to her boyfriend and pressed her lips into a thin line.
Back when he broke up with you, they realised that Charles wasn’t really comfortable when they mentioned your name, despite the fact that the breakup was on a good term. It had been a year since then, and he eventually accepted that regardless of whatever happened between you and him, you were still part of the group friends, and there would be times when they would mention and talk about you, especially Martha. She was one of your closest friends.
He hadn’t seen you since then. You had asked him to stop contacting you or you would never be able to move on with your life, so he did what you asked. It was hard at first because you were a huge part of his life and to wake up one day, having to carry on with his life without texting you, listening to your voice, hearing you blabbered about your favourite movies without an early notice was unbearable. Up until now, he wasn’t really sure if he had indeed forgotten you or he had his career that acted as his distraction. Either way, you had always been in the back of his mind.
"Mr. Y/L/N passed away last week.”
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flash
“I told her I couldn’t go on a date with him because I love you! “
Alcohol had always been a social lubricant to you. It always made you talk a lot more. Sometimes it made you talk too much that the aftermath made you unable to talk to anyone for a week because you were so embarrassed. Charles had been holding his laughter. He wished he had recorded everything you had been saying ever since he drove away from the club and let you listen to it when you were sober. But a small part of him was glad enough that out of all embarrassing things you could have talked, you had been telling him you love him over and over. He had been planning to confess to you for weeks now, but he wasn’t really sure if you liked him the same—more than a friend—but now that you had been prattling your love for him time and again, it wasn’t that vogue anymore. "Yeah? How much do you love me?"
"A lot! Like,” You brought up your arms and moved them in a circular motion. “this much! But I don’t know if you love me back, so I just keep it a secret." You tried to cover your flushed face with your hands and chuckled.
"I love you too.” He whispered.
"What did you say? Charles, I can’t hear you!” You leaned against his arm and hiccuped. "I wish you loved me back."
"We are here, bambi." You managed to hop off the car on your own, insisting you could walk without his help while he went to pick up your handbag and heels in his car.
"Hi, dad!, I’m so sorry I’m late.” You crashed and slump your body against the older man as Charles followed behind.
"It’s okay, honey. As long as you are safe.” He pecked you on the side of your head as you walked in, bidding goodbye to your best friends.
"Bye, Charles!" You squealed and hopped your way to your room, leaving him to face your dad on his own.
"Leclerc."
"Sir, I—um.”
"No hands?" The adult queried.
"No." Charles shook his head right away, as if vocally denying it wasn’t enough to persuade your dad.
"No lips? Tongue?"
"No, absolutely not. I’m completely sober, and I have two more friends, one girl and one guy, in the car. Here’s, um, her heels and handbag.” He confirmed before handing your older man the stuff you had left. "Have a good night, sir."
"Leclerc."
"Yeah?" He stopped in his track back to his car and looked back.
"Thank you for taking care of her."
"Of course. I’ll always take care of her. I promise." He nodded out of curtesy and made his way back to the car, continuing his way to send his other friends home.
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This was the third time the ringing tone rang over and over again from the start. He had been in front of your house, ringing your bells, for the past 10 minutes. His leg veins were all sore from standing it was as if he had a leg day.
“Are you sure she’s home? My legs are burning, bro. She’s not picking up the call either." Charles groaned and heaved a sigh. It felt as if he was going against the rule. He had asked his friends if it was okay for him to pay you a visit because the last time he tried to see you, you flipped off but that was a week after the breakup. It was solely for a different reason now. The friends were very supportive of the idea since everyone except him had sent their condolences in person.
"She hasn’t left the house at all! Just come back tomorrow, then. Maybe—"
He clicked on the end button right when the sound of the lock being turned came from the other side. "Y/N?"
"Oh, hi…"
You looked different, a gloomy kind of difference. You no longer had the sparkle in your eyes. Your eyes were droopy and puffy, as if you hadn’t had enough sleep, and the dark circle under your eyes was so obvious that it looked like a silhouette against the rainy days in Monaco. "I heard what happened. I’m so sor—“
"Sorry? Yeah, I have been hearing the same things from every single person since last week. I’m sorry for myself too. You can go now."
"Wait! Y/N, wait." He slipped his foot in between the small gap and held the door from closing shut. "I see that you do not want to talk right now, and I understand and respect that. But if you want to talk sometime later, I’m always here, alright?"
"Thanks, Charles."
He stepped back, and you closed the door, locking it back as he walked away. He didn’t need to come inside to know that the house was dingy, as if it were painted all over by a leader.
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He stretched his limbs, hands patting and slapping in every area against the duvet, trying to find his phone that was blasting the ringtone in full volume. "Hello…?" Charles leaned to his side and rested the phone on his ear so he wouldn’t have to hold it.
"Charles? Am I disturbing you?"
It was 3AM. Of course you weren’t disturbing him at all. "No? No, not at all. I wasn’t even sleeping.”He sat up straight away, yawning as he put the phone away for a second, in case you could hear it.
"What were you doing?"
"Sorry? Oh, I was working out.” He dipped his head, feeling the blood rush to his head from the abrupt movement earlier.
"At this hour?"
"Yeah. I have jet lag.” He had been here for days. If jet lag lasted this long, he would have been hospitalised. "Is there anything wrong, Y/N?"
"No… I just—" There were 10 seconds of stillness before you continued. "Actually, I don’t know why I called you. You can go back working out. I’m so sorry—“
"Hey," He cut on.
"…yeah?"
"Would you like to listen to me talk for a while instead? I got a few funny stories you might want to hear." Charles felt like his prayer was answered when you reached out to him. It wasn’t much, but at least the first thing that came to your mind in the middle of the night was to search for his name in your contact out of all people. To him, that was really meaningful. "I’m really good at telling jokes."
You didn’t reply.
"You don’t have to say anything. Just be present with me; is that okay?” Then he heard your soft voice on the other side.
"Okay.."
So he went on and talked for a while, though his brain cells had to open a few old books in his memory to recall some interesting stories, but anything to keep you company so you wouldn’t feel alone.
“Y/N, are you still here with me?" He thought you were asleep because he nearly did, though his mouth was conveying every words his brain could make up.
"Yeah."
“Are you sleepy?” Charles asked. It would be crazy to ask the question at 4AM to anyone else.
“No, not yet.”
Though your reply was short and he barely got any reaction, at least you were listening to him so he stayed up that night, telling her about how Lando made fun of his way of driving.
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You called again a few days later. Truth be told, Charles hadn’t been sleeping that well ever since you started calling him in the middle of the night. He was so afraid he would accidentally miss your calls that he even set an alarm for every hour of the night.
"Hi. Am I disturbing you?”
He was leaning against his headboard. Your call didn’t come as a surprise this time, so he didn’t sound sleepy at all. "No, not at all, Y/N. Do you—"
"Can I—" You spoke along with him.
"Go on."
"Can I talk about my dad?” Your voice trailed off. You had been wanting to talk about him. You wanted to talk about how perfect of a dad he was to you. To talk so proudly of him for hours. You refused to act as if he were gone. No, you couldn’t move on just yet. You wanted to tell everyone about everything he had ever taught you about life. You wanted to play pretend, talking about him as if he were still here.
But who would be willing to listen to a story about a random old man, someone who wasn’t important to them as much as he was to you? Someone who wasn’t a significant icon in the world. He was just your dad.
So you weren’t expecting him to say yes, and that was totally fine. “It’s okay if you don’t want to..”
"Sure! Tell me everything about him. All I know is that he was very scary, especially when he called my name."
You giggled. It felt forever since the last time you smiled; that it felt a little awkward. "He always said he did it on purpose because you would always freeze whenever he did that."
"For real? My legs went weak every time he went "Leclerc."" This had been the most words he had ever heard you say since he met you again.
"He would always peel the shrimp for me." You blurted, finding yourself smiling again. This was the first time you had ever spoken about him since he passed. Charles, on the other hand, tried to stifle his yawn by cupping his mouth. "Because of that, I would never order any dish that had shrimp or prawn if I wasn’t with him because I didn’t want to peel them on my own."
You heard him laugh on the other line. "Do you know how to peel your own shrimp?" He jested.
"I think so. It’s been a while since I peeled them myself. I should probably start learning how to do it myself.”
"Have you learned how to tie your shoelaces?” You heard him query, laughing right after. He remembered how you would always ask him to wait because Mr. Y/L/N hadn’t tied up your shoelaces yet. He had taught you the step by step, yet it felt like the most complicated thing ever so you never tried it again.
"Of course! I have always known how to tie them."
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"Coming!"
You ran to the door as soon as the bell went off while still struggling to clip your earrings on. You went with a printed shirt and bootcut pants in black, paired with your hair tied up in a ponytail. This was the first time in what felt like forever since you dressed up this well. Charles had asked you to join the rest of the group for a casual lunch, and you had been M.I.A. since the date so the only right thing to do was to say yes. "Is this okay?”
"It’s more than okay, Y/N. You look stunning. Ready?" His heart swelled with pride, seeing how much improvement you had made. Charles was told you hadn’t leave the house ever since what happened and he wasn’t hoping for you to agree with his offer. Not only you said yes, you were also looking forward to it.
"Ready." You exclaimed and halted your steps before bumping against his chest as he abruptly stopped.
"Wait."
"Why?" Your head tilted along as he crouched down to pull your shoelaces loose. Your cheeks were flushed because you even went on internet and tried to make it perfect but judging on how quick he was to realise about it, you felt a bit like a fool. It was a bit of a waste of time as well. You should have just went with a heels or flats. “Oh, did I tie it wrong? It’s okay, Charles. I can do it on my own."
"It’s okay to ask for help, Y/N. There you go. You did it perfectly. I just made it tighter.” He patted on your head soon as he was done with both sides.
He was lying. You knew it because your shoelaces looked neater now—way different from when you did it.
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"Y/N, we missed you!” Martha screamed and pulled you into a tight hug. It had been nearly a week since the last time you met up with her. It didn’t sound that long but it was long for you and Martha who could never went more than 2 days without seeing each other.
You were a little taken back from the way they were celebrating you that some of the other customers were looking at your way. Charles saw the way your cheeks went pink as you looked to your side that he had to step in.
"Okay, that’s enough. Don’t humiliate us in public.”Charles pulled your seat on his side while the rest of the group settled down. The waiter handed him the menu and he passed you on to to as they carried on with conversation and meals while both you flipped on the pages.
"I think…I’ll just take polpette al sugo.”
"They have prawn linguine. I thought that was your favourite?" He called out the waiter and looked back at you for confirmation, seeing the way you weren’t quite sure with your decision but you chose to stick with it.
"No, I don’t feel like eating that one."
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"Why did you order that?"
"Oh, this?" He took a spoonful of the linguini and shrugged. "I don’t know. Guess I wanted to try it out?"
When the foods arrived, you saw the waiter handed your favourite food, the prawn linguini to Charles when he had never ordered anything that had seafood in it. "But you don’t like seafood?"
"Doesn’t mean I’m not up to try a new dish.” He calmly replied, and before you could argue again, Riccardo called his name to ask about his new car.
You always made the wrong decision in life. Let it be from choosing your part time job, to choosing your prom dress, to choosing your major in university. Today wasn’t an exception too. The dish that you ordered wasn’t good enough. It was okay, but it didn’t give you the contentment as much as you thought it would. So you had been eyeing non other than the linguini in front of Charles.
You thought you were being subtle until he switched his dish with yours; with all of the prawns peeled. It was done instantaneous while you were rolling the meatball around so the the fork in your hand were dropped in surprise. “Take mine.” He said, before looking back at the guy on the other side of the table and took a bite of the meatball in front of him. You picked up the fork which he had twirled with the pasta and stuffed it in your mouth. Your hand immediately went to your filled mouth and stifled a giggle.
"Is it good?” He leaned his head against his hand, grinning from ear to ear while he stares at you as you take another spoonful of it.
"It’s really good! Can I take this one?" You poked one of the fresh, plump prawn he had peeled and pointed it on his face.
"Take it, precious. I don’t like seafood."
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Charles came by early in the morning with a bag full of different ingredients that it felt like you were prepping for a housewarming party. Today was your dad’s birthday, and you were supposed to be having a father and daughter date like always, but this was the first birthday without him, so you didn’t know what to do—whether you should celebrate it or if it turned into a normal day in your calendar now that he was gone.
"What are we doing with these? Are you trying to cook something?” You asked, taking out milk, herbs, butter, and all sorts of stuff from the paper bag.
"We are making chicken pesto lasagna.” He bent over the kitchen counter and took out his phone. You saw, he went on his notes and scrolled through the words that he had written in it.
"Why?"
"Because it’s something you used to do with your dad?” He went around the kitchen, looking for something in circle, until you handed him the chopping board. "Let’s make it a tradition for his birthday."
"But I don’t really know how to make it. He was the one who did all the cooking.” You took out red onions and garlic for him to start chopping.
"It’s fine. I studied the recipe last night, and it shouldn’t be that hard. Look." Charles scrolled down his notes, and you saw what was written in bold and labelled as ‘tips’. "I even got some extra tips from people on the internet."
"How did you know we used to make this on his birthday?"
"You mentioned it once. A few years ago. If I’m not mistaken, it was his favourite, yeah? And that was why he liked making it on his birthday because it felt extra special when he made it with you?” He lifted his arms high when you threw yourself against him. "Did I say something wrong? I’m sorry—"
"Thank you. I really appreciate everything you did to me, Charles."
He rested his chin on the crown of your head while his hands were holding a knife on one and an onion on the other. "Anything for you, precious. Anyway, I don’t feel comfortable having you judge my back while I cook; do you mind leaving the kitchen to me?"
"No. Let’s do this together. Can I see your notes?” He went back to chop and dice as he pushed the phone to your side. It felt like you were seeing something you shouldn’t have when you accidentally flicked your finger up on the screen, revealing your picture as his wallpaper on his home screen so you immediately clicked back on the notes before he was it. There were two files in the notes. You clicked on the one that was labelled as ‘Bambi’, where you saw he had written down everything you have ever said to him, your favourite colour, favourite food, your first pet, and down below on the page which looked like it added recently was what your dad used to do for you, what you had told him in a phone call few days ago.
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After the whole war in the kitchen, the lasagna turned out to be really good. You wouldn’t have thought the end product would taste that delectable because he didn’t seem to be very sure of every step he did, though it was all based on the recipe itself. It was a while after the lunch was then you asked him to accompany you to see your dad before the day ended because you wanted to wish him a happy birthday in ‘person’ and here you were, standing in front of your dad’s tombstone with Charles.
"Hi, dad. I know you don’t like me going out when it rains, but I promise I won’t be that long.” You crouched down and brush the dead leaves on the stone before placing a bouquet of fresh flowers. "Happy birthday!" You tried to sound joyful because you promised you wouldn’t cry. Not when you have someone else with you this time but you choked back on your tears as soon as you felt Charles’s hand on your shoulders, giving it a squeeze every so often. "I made your favourite food with Charles, and I think he could snatch your best chef title soon."
“Don’t say that. He’s not gonna let me take you out on a date again.” You laughed at his pleasantry and rested your head against his chest. "Sir, I know I broke your trust when we broke up but she was the one who forced me to break up with her.” You giggled and pinched on his waist as he winced. “But you don’t have to worry about Y/N. She’s in good hands. I’ll always take care of her like I have promised you."
“We’ll come back again soon, right?” You looked up with a smile. The tears that was burning your waterline was gone now. It felt like his hug completely consume your being and it was the second most comforting feeling in the world, second to your dad’s hug.
He rubbed on your back with his thumb, pulling you closer as he closed his eyes. Hugging you felt like heaven in his arms. “I’ll bring Y/N here whenever she wants to see you. You got my promise again, sir.”
If your usernames were crossed, meaning I can’t tag you! Let me know if you would like to be removed or to be added to the tag list! Or if I missed anyone!
⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ summary — you do the trend where you ask your followers to watch your boyfriend.
⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ character — bucky barnes (marvel)
⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ content — fluff
⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ notes — pretend they’re still in the tower,,, no endgame au; they’re all happy and alive 🤭 this piece is shorter i just wanted to write
~
Whenever you scroll on TikTok, you would come across videos where the user would ask their followers and viewers to watch their boyfriend for them. You find every video adorable and wholesome, so you decided to try it on your 107-year-old boyfriend, who is currently eating his breakfast alone. Perfect.
You approach your unsuspecting boyfriend with the video already rolling, then you place the phone in front of him. “Can you watch my boyfriend for me while I do my business? Thanks, you guys.” Then you’re gone before he could even get a word in.
He looks back to where you walked off before sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose as he looks over to the camera with his awkward but lovable smile.
“Guess you’re all stuck with me... whoever you are.” His brows then furrow. “Wait, are you even there? I don’t know. I’ve been getting the hang of these newer technology, but... they’re tricky, you know?”
He shrugs, eating a spoonful of cereal, his eyes lighting up slightly as he turns his bowl towards the camera. “Oreos as cereals.” He snorts.
“I wonder what’s taking her so long,” he mumbles with a worried frown. “What if it’s the time of her month? She’ll tell me, right?”
But you don’t come and somewhere during the video, Steve appears with Sam as they come back from their run. The video becomes more chaotic and noisier with Steve and Sam, but they quickly leave after a few minutes and he’s alone again. And you still hasn’t come back.
As the video hit its ten minute mark, you come back with a grin, taking your phone and speaking, “Thanks, guys!”
Once the video is turned off, Bucky turns to you with his brows drawn together in concern. “Is it your time of the month?”
Bonus — comments:
User 1: he was nice didn’t try to bite 10/10 i will watch again
User 2: he brought friends over when you left is that okay???
User 3: dude!!! i babysat the avengers!!! wait til my friends hear about this
Summary : Everyone is horrified that Bucky is flirting with a married woman, but then they realise there's a reason why.
Pairing : Thunderbolts!Bucky Barnes x florist!reader (she/her)
Warnings/tags : Secret wife trope. Cursing, Injury. Featuring the Thunderbolts*. Bucky kinda gaslights the entire team. Fluff!!!!
Word count : 3k
Note : The next chapter of spoils of war is almost here, but I just need to go over a couple of paragraphs! In the meantime, enjoy!
The Thunderbolts knew a few undeniable truths about Bucky Barnes.
One: He was grumpy.
Two: He was a private person.
Three: He never, ever let anyone see where he lived.
That last one bothered them the most. They’d pieced together the general area; a quiet neighborhood with old brick buildings, modern cafés, and just enough charm to make it feel… vintage. But no one had ever set foot inside his home, no one had even seen him unlock the door to his sanctuary, since he dodged every casual suggestion to hang out at his place with a variation of “I got plans” or another. And, curiously, every time they stopped for coffee in this part of town, Bucky would mysteriously slip into the tiny flower shop beneath a brick apartment building.
That was odd. No one would’ve guessed that Bucky Barnes even liked flowers.
What was even odder was that this infinitely grumpy, emotionally constipated, “I hate people” supersoldier — would be capable of flirting.
With the florist.
With you.
“Are we seeing this right?” Yelena whispered, elbowing Alexei as they peered through the shop window after Bucky made them wait outside.
They watched as Bucky stood by the counter, leaning in ever so slightly, a charming grin tugging at the corner of his mouth as he watched you wrap a bouquet.
“He’s smiling,” Alexei muttered, horrified.
Inside, Bucky reached for the bouquet you were tying up, his gloved fingers brushing against yours. You playfully smacked his hand away, laughing. He laughed, too, and that was enough to send Yelena spiraling into an existential crisis.
Yelena squinted. “He’s flirting.”
Alexei frowned. “Bucky does not flirt.”
“I know. That’s why I’m freaking out.”
They watched as you handed him the bouquet, and in return, Bucky gave you a wink. And then he turned, walking out like he hadn’t just transformed into a different person.
That was when Yelena, utterly horrified Yelena, caught a flash of gold on your ring finger. She squinted her eyes. It was unmistakable. “Wait a second—”
As soon as he got back to them, Alexei folded his arms. “You were flirting.”
Bucky scoffed. “I was not.”
“She’s married!” Yelena accused, pointing dramatically. “She had a ring! You flirted with a married woman!”
Bucky didn’t even blink. He simply shrugged, tucking the bouquet carefully under his arm. “I didn’t see a ring.”
“She was literally wearing it—”
“I didn’t see a ring,” Bucky insisted, tugging absentmindedly at the chain around his neck— the one that held his dog tags, hidden under his shirt.
Yelena and Alexei exchanged a deeply disturbed look.
Bucky Barnes was flirting with a married florist.
What was the world coming to?
—
Bucky knew he’d fucked up the second he stepped back into Thunderbolts HQ.
Alexie had just looked confused, while Yelena had been simmering the entire walk back, her arms crossed so tightly over her chest it was a miracle she hadn’t snapped a rib.
She lasted exactly two seconds before she exploded. “You are jackass, Barnes!”
Bucky barely had time to sigh before she stomped closer.
“What’s so wrong with what I did?” he muttered, placing the bouquet of flowers in an empty vase
Yelena let out an incredulous laugh, pacing in front of him like a caged tiger ready to strike. “What’s wrong?” she echoed, her accent thickening with rage. “You flirted with a married woman! I should punch you in the face on principle!”
From the lounge, John Walker looked up from whatever government-issued nonsense he was pretending to read. His brows immediately furrowed, his eyes twisting into the signature disapproving dad look he’d perfected. “Wait, what?”
Ava, who had been drinking tea in the corner, raised an eyebrow. “This is scandalous,” she murmured, eyes brightening with intrigue.
Alexei, who was now plopped on the couch like some washed-up, Soviet-era king, said, “If a man had flirted with my wife like that, I would have hunt him down and mount his head on wall.” He crossed his arms, nodding to himself in approval. “As is tradition.”
Bucky scowled. “I wasn’t flirting.”
“Oh?” Yelena snorted, “So you were just undressing her with your eyes for fun, then?”
Bucky rolled his eyes. “That’s just how I look at people.”
Alexie shook his head. “So you look at us like that?”
Bucky opened his mouth. Then immediately shut it.
Yelena’s hands curled into fists. “Yeah. Thought so.”
John’s arms crossed over his chest in that holier-than-thou stance that he was so famous for. “Look, man, I’m married. And if someone flirted with my wife, we’d have a problem.”
“Oh, fuck off,” Bucky groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “You guys are making a big deal out of nothing.”
“Nothing?” Yelena threw up her hands. “She’s married, Bucky!”
“Okay, even if I was flirting,” Bucky turned to her, exasperated— “I didn’t see a ring.”
Yelena’s hands flew to her head, fingers digging into her scalp like she was resisting the urge to rip out her own hair. “You probably chose to look away!”
John sighed like a disappointed youth pastor. “This is unbelievable.”
“No,” Bucky still insisted, “I didn’t see a ring.”
Yelena’s jaw dropped. “It was a thick gold band, Barnes. How could you not see it?”
Ava, who was clearly enjoying the drama more than anyone, sighed. “That is inappropriate behaviour, Barnes.”
Alexei shook his head again, “You should apologise.”
“I’m not apologising,” Bucky scoffed, “Because I did nothing wrong.”
His fingers toyed absentmindedly with the chain that led to his dog tags, and Yelena immediately locked onto the movement. Every person has a tell, a habit they did when they were nervous. And being a super spy, Yelena knew this was his.
She narrowed her eyes. “You are gaslighting us,” she muttered, pacing again like she was mentally weighing the pros and cons of strangling a super soldier.
“I didn’t see a ring,” Bucky repeated, his voice steady.
“You’re lying,” she snapped.
He shrugged, maddeningly casual in all of this chaos. “Guess we’ll never know.”
Ava laughed cynically. “I can’t tell if you’re a complete scumbag or if this is just really fun for you.”
Bucky just popped a beer from the fridge, flicking the cap off with his metal hand. “Why not both?”
He took a long sip of his beer, completely unbothered.
And maybe, he looked a little bit too smug.
—
Three weeks later, Bucky led Yelena and John on a mission to take down a high-scale arms dealer.
And, as always, the mission had gone sideways.
It was too late for any shops to be open, too late for anyone with a shred of common sense to be out on the streets.
Yelena was bleeding, pressing a torn scrap of fabric against a deep gash on her arm. John had a busted lip and a slight limp. Bucky was sporting a few cuts and bruises himself, but nothing he hadn’t shaken off a thousand times before.
“Guys,” Yelena managed a grunt, shifting her grip on her makeshift bandage, “we need to get ourselves patched up before one of us drops dead.”
“We ran out of antiseptics back at HQ,” John reminded them.
Yelena groaned, throwing her head back in despair. “So what are we supposed to do?” She gritted out, “Just bleed out in the street like sad little orphans?”
John scowled. “That’s a little dramatic.”
Yelena turned and glared at him. “Your face is dramatic.”
Bucky let out a deep breath through his nose, running a hand along his damp hair. He glanced around the street, making sure they weren’t being followed before whispering to himself, “Guess we’re doing this now.”
Yelena tilted her head. “Doing what?”
Instead of answering, Bucky turned on his heel and started walking.
John and Yelena gave each other a wary look.
“I don’t like when he does that,” John said.
“No one does,” Yelena agreed, but they both followed anyway.
It didn’t take long for them to recognise the route— It was the neighbourhood where the team usually got coffee.
But Bucky wasn’t heading to the café.
They rounded the corner, and suddenly John stopped dead in his tracks.
It was a closed florist—the very one where Bucky had, allegedly, been trying to charm his way into a married woman’s bed.
To John’s absolute horror, Bucky walked right up to the door and knocked.
“Bucky.” He said, voice strangled. “What the hell is this?”
Yelena blinked. “I don’t think we need to seduce a married florist to get medical supplies.”
Bucky sighed, rubbing his temples like he was already regretting this decision. He turned to them, leveling them both with a look. “Alright, listen up,” he said through gritted teeth. "The secret’s out now, so you two gotta keep your mouths shut.”
John’s brows furrowed. “What secret?”
Before Bucky could answer, the door to the flower shop clicked open.
And there you were, standing in the doorway, wrapped in one of Bucky’s hoodies, looking exactly how he’d expected: exasperated but unsurprised. He knew you’d still be up, cataloguing the latest floral shipment for tomorrow’s arrangements.
The second your eyes landed on a bruised and bloodied Bucky, and flanked by two wounded Thunderbolts, no less—you let out a sigh.
“James,” you said knowingly, your voice laced with fond irritation. “What did you do?”
Yelena and John froze in their tracks.
James?
James?
No one called Bucky by his first name. No one. Not unless they had a death wish.
Bucky, unfazed, just stepped inside. “We ran out of antiseptics, honey.”
Yelena and John exchanged a wide-eyed look.
Honey?
You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Again?”
Bucky shrugged like this was a perfectly normal Thursday night occurrence.
You muttered under your breath, “I should’ve known this would happen when I married an ex-assassin.”
Oh.
Yelena’s mouth opened, closed, then opened again. “Married.” she repeated
John blinked rapidly. “This is why we can never go to your place?”
Bucky could only shrug. Of course it was— they would have seen the evidence of how much love in his home was carved out for just you.
John let out a wheeze.
Yelena pointed between you and Bucky, motioning erratically. “Wait. WAIT. So—so she’s your wife? She married you?”
Bucky nodded. “Yup.”
“Like—actually married?”
“Mhm.”
Yelena gasped, clutching her chest like she’d been personally betrayed. In a way, she had. “And no one knows?”
Bucky thought for a second. “Sam does.”
“And Joaquin,” you added, trying to be helpful.
Bucky nodded. “Right. Joaquin.”
“Oh, and Isaiah and Elijah Bradley.”
“Yeah, they were at the wedding.”
“A teenager knew about this,” John’s eye twitched, “—and we didn’t?”
Bucky could only nod again.
Yelena rubbed a hand down her face, “You gaslit us,” she accused, jabbing a finger at Bucky. “You let us believe you were a homewrecker for weeks—when you were married the whole time?!”
You snorted, glancing at Bucky, who had the audacity to look smug. “Yeah, that sounds like my husband.”
Yelena let out a string of very creative Russian curses.
John looked like he was about to have a stroke.
“All secrets aside,” you said, welcoming the two disoriented Thunderbolts in and locking the door behind you, “It’s good to finally meet you both.”
John still looked like he was buffering. Yelena, on the other hand, was vibrating with adrenaline, looking like she was trying to solve a conspiracy theory in real time.
“This is—this is insane,” she muttered, pointing aggressively at Bucky, then at you, then back at Bucky. “You’re—you’re so normal.”
You laughed, shaking your head. “I’d like to think so.”
Bucky just hummed. “She’s perfect.”
Yelena actually sputtered like an old car engine.
John made a noise that was somewhere between a groan and a strangled laugh. This was all too much.
But there wasn’t time to let them spiral further. Bucky, gently nudged you toward the others. “Take care of them first, darling. They’ve got worse injuries.”
You frowned, wanting to protest—because, really, Bucky should always be your first priority—but your husband was nothing if not stubborn. You knew better than to argue when he had that look in his eyes— you knew that fighting him on this would only drag things out longer, and right now, time was precious.
You turned your attention to Yelena and John, motioning for them to follow you deeper into the shop. The scent of lavender, roses, and freshly cut stems—clung to the air as you led them toward the back, where your little work table stood tucked in the corner.
Years of practice had made you quick. You moved with quiet efficiency, gathering supplies from neat shelves: you cut and split an aloe vera plant for burns, grabbed bandages, and a mix of balms you’d perfected over your time tending to Bucky. It wasn’t the kind of sterile, military-grade first aid they were used to, but it would have to do for now.
You started tending to Yelena’s arm, gently dabbing the wound with fresh aloe. She hissed through her teeth before narrowing her eyes at you.
“So how long has this been a thing?” she demanded. Bucky, now leaning lazily against the counter with his arms crossed, barely spared her a glance. “A while.”
John scoffed, “A while?”
You bit back a grin as you smoothed a bandage over Yelena’s arm, “Three years.”
Yelena’s jaw dropped.
“Three—” She turned to Bucky so fast it was a miracle she didn’t give herself whiplash. “You’ve been married for three years?!”
John let out a long, defeated groan,This was simply too much to process. “Fuck’s sake.”
Yelena shook her head. “I thought you were a loner who hated people."
Bucky only shrugged, unbothered.
You chuckled as you pressed the last piece of medical tape into place on Yelena’s arm. “Alright, you’re done.” Then, glancing at John, you motioned for him to sit. “Your turn.”
John sighed but still plopped down. You took his hand gently, turning it over to examine his bruised knuckles before moving to his busted lip.
Meanwhile, they kept peppering you with questions, barely giving you room to breathe.
“How did you meet?”
“How do you put up with Bucky’s brooding?”
“Does he ever actually smile?”
At that last one, you paused, dabbing at John’s lip carefully. “He smiles all the time.”
John let out a scoff. “No, he doesn’t.”
You glanced over at Bucky, knowing he showed that part of him to you and no one else. “Oh, he does.”
And then, finally, it was Bucky’s turn.
You turned to him, your brows knitting together as you studied the little cuts on his cheek, the dried blood near his brows. He looked a little tired, a little worn around the edges.
Your fingers found his chin, tilting his face toward you as you inspected the damage. Your touch was so featherlight, so incredibly careful. There was no missing the way your thumb brushed over his cheekbone— how incredibly gentle it was.
“You should’ve let me do you first,” you murmured, half-scolding, half-concerned.
Bucky’s lips curved into a small smile, a flicker of mischief lighting his tired blue eyes. “That’s exactly what you said last night, sweetheart.”
John choked.
Yelena groaned, grabbing the nearest pillow from the nearest chair and hurling it at Bucky’s head. “You two are disgusting.”
Bucky caught the pillow effortlessly, giving her a smug grin before setting it aside. When his eyes found yours again, his shit-eating grin turned… lovely. The tension in his brows eased as you dabbed gently at his cut.
For all the blood, for all the bruises, you handled him like he was glass.
And then, without thinking, you leaned in.
It was meant to be a brief kiss— a quick reassurance, a way of saying I’ve got you. But the moment your lips brushed his, you couldn’t help but linger.
Your fingers curled instinctively against his chin. His hand found your waist without hesitation, as if he needed you closer. As if the world shrank down to just the two of you.
John and Yelena exchanged a look, the previous horror of their teammate hiding a secret wife momentarily forgotten because this was… weirdly cute.
You giggled as you pulled away, seeing Bucky looking at you like you hung the moon for him.
“Anywhere else?” you asked, brushing your thumb over his lips.
Bucky hesitated just for a second. Then, a little sheepishly, he said, “Got a cut on my ribs.”
You exhaled, shaking your head. Of course he did. Before he could argue, you reached for the hem of his shirt and tugged.
“Off,” you said simply.
Bucky huffed but didn’t fight you. He lifted his arms, letting you strip the fabric from his skin, and goddamn.
Bucky, half-naked, was unfairly, ridiculously beautiful. Even now, even after all this time, seeing him like this still knocked the breath from your lungs. His body was a roadmap of battles fought and survived, scars carved into the expanse of his chest and ribs that told stories only he could say.
John made a strangled sound, somewhere between “Jesus Christ” and “I need to leave the room,” but you ignored him completely. Yelena let out a dramatic sigh and whispered “they are one second away from sucking each other’s face off,” to herself.
You tuned them both out, fingers dragging carefully over Bucky’s ribs, searching for the wound. When you found a thin jagged cut just below his ribs— you sighed softer this time and reached for the aloe.
“You need to stop getting hurt, my love,” you said, smoothing the cool gel over his skin.
Bucky’s voice came quieter. “Lucky I have someone to take care of me, then.”
And that’s when Yelena finally noticed it.
The thin chain around Bucky’s neck—one she’d always assumed was just for his dog tags—held something else, too.
A ring.
A simple wedding band that matched yours, worn from years of resting against his skin.
She blinked, realisation hitting her like a freight train. Oh.
That’s why he always played with it.
Every time Bucky was nervous, every time he was uncertain, his fingers would move to that chain—not just to fiddle with his tags, but to remind himself of you.
Maybe he wasn’t a complete jackass after all.
-end.
Note: Hope this doesn't bite me in the ass when the movie comes out.
⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ summary — wanting was enough. for steve, it was enough.
⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ character — steve rogers (marvel)
⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ content — angst ; steve’s pov to this
⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ notes — timeline? we don’t know her 🤪 for the sake of the plot, bucky was found after eg and no one died ,,, also i hope this makes sense because i am like half asleep as i am writing this
~
Steve Rogers had always loved and will always love Margaret ‘Peggy’ Carter. For him, no one will ever compare to who she was as a soldier, as a woman, and as the one who held his heart. Or so he thought until he was pulled out of the ice and was thrusted into the world he knew nothing about, until he met you.
You were a rookie agent when Steve was pulled out of the ice and when he woke, Nick Fury assigned you your first mission—to help Captain America get back on his feet and adjust to his new world.
You and Steve didn’t hit it off immediately. In fact, you got off on the wrong foot. With your wits contradicting each other’s, and your smart mouth, you were bound to disagree. You would bicker at every waking hour you spent together, but he would be an absolute angel to everyone else, fueling your irritation further and so you gave the same energy back, maybe even more.
You directed all your anger onto him. At every moment, you were ready to reply with something snarky. You were always short with him, but you were the opposite to everybody else. In your head, you were giving him a dose of his own medicine.
And he let you because in his head, that was better. Your distance was so much better, not because he despised you, but because he saw her in you.
He saw her in the way you moved, the way you handled yourself with confidence and strength, the way you put deserving people in their places. But then as if a bucket of cold water was dumped on him and he realized.
He realized that everything was different, that she was gone. And for the first time, he saw you, and it just became so much worse because you were here, you were real, you were alive. You were someone he could hurt.
Then, not even a year after he was assigned to you, Fury reassigned you another mission, and the both of you were internally grateful. You were grateful to have been given a break from his insufferable ass, and he was grateful to have been distanced from you before his heart positively combusted.
Months passed right before his eyes and before he knew it, it was 2012. Fury sought him out for the Avengers Initiative and once again, he was Captain America.
With the shit that had gone down since he became an Avenger, he was always almost too busy to let his mind wander to you. Then, he found out that Peggy was alive. She was in this world and all of a sudden, he felt he had something to hold on to when the world moved too fast. And with his mind occupied with Peggy, you were almost completely wiped from his mind.
Then Peggy died and his world crumbled around him. He had seen it coming for a while. With Peggy’s age, he knew it was bound to happen sooner than later, but it was still a pain he never imagined.
Almost immediately after her death, the accords happened and faster than he could even blink, he was a fugitive, an enemy of the state. Everything went to shit after Peggy’s death and he felt as if he lost control over his own life.
Then you sought him out and took him in. You weren’t an Avenger, so you weren’t included in the whole mess in Germany, but you were still an agent of SHIELD.
You gave him shelter when he was on the run despite your connection to SHIELD. You were ready to throw everything away for him despite your history.
And during his time on the down low, your feelings started to bloom, seeing him in a new light, seeing him, not as Captain America, but as Steve, the scrawny boy from Brooklyn who wanted to kick bullies’ asses, but always ended up getting his ass kicked. But neither of you acted on your feelings.
Then all of a sudden, he was being whisked away because apparently, a titan from another planet was planning a universal genocide. They fought, but were unsuccessful.
Half of the world was wiped away and the first thing he thought to do after the battle was to seek you out, so he did. But you weren’t there. You weren’t in your own home and the only thing left of you was the pile of sand on your kitchen floor and a mixing bowl next to it.
Despite half of the world’s population being gone, it felt as if the world was moving too fast. Or maybe it was the grief slowing him down. Maybe it was both, but before he even realized, five years had passed and they were all presented a chance at getting half the world back, courtesy of Scott Lang.
With a lot of hiccups and injuries, but thankfully no deaths, they were able to get the world back and the titan was gone. Truly gone.
After the battle, Steve didn’t even wait until he was fully recovered to seek you out, and there you were in your house, coping with the fact that you have just lost five years of your life, despite feeling like you have only been gone for no longer than a minute.
He had barged into your home, looking you over before kissing the life out of you and there, something had bloomed.
At first, he was almost ecstatic at the thought that you were finally in his arms safe, sound, and alive. Then, he was scared. You were alive. You were someone the world could take away from him. You were someone he could hurt, and so he kept you a secret. He didn’t want to risk the world finding out about Captain America’s weakness and ultimately using you against him.
To his relief, you agreed to be his dirty little secret. It was fair, he thought. You got to keep your relationship with him and he got to keep you safe.
But it didn’t ease his fear. Despite the world not knowing about you and him, he was still scared. You were still with him and he could still hurt you, unlike Peggy, darling, dearest, dead Peggy.
And so unknowingly, he was pulling away from you and slowly holding on to the memories of Peggy, the memories of the world he knew before everything went to shit.
He knew damn well it was gone, that it didn’t exist anymore, but if it wasn’t real, if it wasn’t here, if it wasn’t alive, then he couldn’t fuck it up. The world wouldn’t be able to take it away from him because it was gone.
But you noticed, of course you did, and he didn’t expect anything less. You were a smart woman, his smart woman, and he knew you would catch on, but he didn’t expect you to confront him right after that mission. The mission where he found out that Bucky was alive, but he wasn’t his Bucky anymore. He was turned into one of HYDRA’s greatest weapon and he was taken because he was someone to Steve Rogers, he was someone to Captain America.
But he was there, he was real, he was alive, just like you are. And like Bucky, you could be taken away and used against him, and he wouldn’t know what he’d do if that ever happens, so he pushed you away. He told you lies. He held onto the memories of Peggy like a lifeline in hopes of keeping himself sane as he watched the best thing that ever happened to him crumble right before his eyes.
He watched as you left, unknowingly taking his heart with you.
In your head, his heart was buried with Peggy, completely unaware of the fact that you had taken his heart as you left.
⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ summary — you should’ve known that you were no match for her.
⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ character — steve rogers (marvel)
⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ content — angst
⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ notes — finally, an angst fic 🤭 reader works at shield,,,,, wrote this in one go so some things might not make sense lol the ending felt rushed too idk
~
When you got into a relationship with the Steve Rogers, you knew he still held Peggy close to his heart. And you understood. Really, you did. You knew from experience how hard it is to let go of your first love, especially since his story with Peggy was cut off abruptly just when it was just getting there.
You didn’t blame him, not one bit. You knew if the roles were reversed, he would have stayed for you too, so you stayed. But looking back, you just wished you had listened to your friends.
Your friends had told you, warned you that it will just end badly for you the moment you told them that Steve was showing interest in you. They had told you to run the other way, but you didn’t.
Your relationship with Steve had been... private. No, scratch that, your relationship with Steve was a secret. On his side, at least. You had spent every waking hour telling your friends about him and how he was as a lover. Meanwhile, his team didn’t even know you knew each other.
You did run in the same circles and worked in the same field, but you never bumped into him at work, never saw each other in public. He made sure of that. He never sought you out, he made sure to avoid your wing and your department.
You were hurt, of course you were, but he was quick to assure you that it was for your own safety, for your own good. He was quick to pull out the hero card, said the world is watching his every move, said he didn’t want you getting caught up in his mess.
And you, a naïve little thing stuck in rose-colored glasses, were quick to forgive him, quick to agree to be his dirty little secret, but looking back, you realized how stupid it all sounded. How incredibly stupid you were to believe him when he told you he didn’t want you getting caught up in his messes. You work in the same field, for heaven’s sake. You see what he sees, sometimes even worse. You deal with the same things he does and he had the nerve to tell you he was protecting you, and you had believed him.
And only when you left did you realize that he wasn’t protecting you; he just didn’t think you were good and strong and competent enough to protect yourself if it all came down to it. He didn’t think you could hold your own, like how Peggy could. Or how Peggy did.
You had stayed with Steve for two, almost three years, before the illusion of your so-called relationship was so rudely shattered by Steve himself.
You had been put in the same mission together for the first and last time. You had watched him from behind the crowd, in the corner of the quinjet. You admired him as he worked, almost completely caught up in his element.
Your heart then lurched when his eyes met yours, but then it cracked when you saw the indifference in them, instead of the softness that you were used to, that you were expecting. You didn’t pay any mind to it. After all, you two were at work. You had to be professional.
The crowd dispersed around him, moving around the cramped jet as they made the necessary preparations, but you remained standing in the corner, still watching him.
Your heart dropped to your stomach when you saw him pull out the familiar gold chain of the locket, then it broke completely when you saw the longing in his eyes as he stared at the photograph of his past lover.
You watched, but you never made a move to approach him.
Then, the mission successfully finished after long, grueling hours. The teams went to celebrate, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do so. Not when you had witnessed his yearning for his dead lover first hand, not when you finally had a confirmation to your suspicions.
Later that night, behind closed doors, you confronted him. You poured your heart out to him, telling him all about the hurt you felt when he pulled out the locket, how you felt like you were competing with someone who’s six feet under the ground, and how you were losing.
You felt raw and vulnerable as you bared your soul to him. You felt humiliated as you practically begged him to make a space for you in his heart. You felt pity for yourself as you begged to be loved and seen by your supposed lover.
Then, you froze in your spot as he finally broke, towering over you as he told you how he could never love you as much as he loved—and loves—Peggy, how you could never even come close to her, and how you were nothing but a mere distraction, ready to be thrown away the moment he deemed you useless.
But then, you thought that it was your fault for believing him.
You should’ve known that you were no match for her. Not when he buried his heart with her.
Summary: Surely, you were just some random daughter of some random employee of Sylus'. And surely that meant Sylus thought nothing of you. But, when faced with danger, you learn just how wrong you are.
Pairing: Qin Che / Sylus x F!Reader (not MC!)
Word Count: 2,849
A/N: Some angst and then fluff to make us all feel better :)
TW. attempted sexual assault, violence and brief mention of death (not reader or sylus)
"My father will be right out."
"Thank you... Y/N."
Your gasp is barely concealed, a soft shutter leaving your lips as you glance up to meet Sylus' eyes. He's already staring down at you, his usual air of confidence obvious as he stands before you with his shoulders held high. There's a small smirk on his lips, while his heavy-lidded gaze stays focused on you.
You make a strong effort to remain strong, but you hadn't the slightest clue Sylus, the leader of Onychinus and your father's boss, had any idea who you were. Let alone your name.
It's not like this is the first time either of you have spoken but any conversation between the two of you has never been any of subtance. More often then not, it was you telling him you'd fetch your father and him humming in response.
You don't miss the slight quirk of his lips as you react to that realization, shifting on your feet. "You're welcome, sir," you offer, lightly bowing your head.
Despite your shock, you're not foolish enough to think that Sylus knowing your name means anything. Your father has been working under Sylus for a long time and therefore, you're fully aware of the power that Sylus holds in the N109 zone.
Not to mention, you've grown up in the N109 zone you're entire life. You're fully aware of how dangerous people like Sylus are, even without your father's warnings.
"Please," Sylus offers after a short moment of silence. His voice is light as you meet his gaze, and the smirk has softened to something a little more sincere. "Call me Sylus, Y/N."
You're sure you're hallucinating what's happening in that moment. Because there's no way the leader of Onychinus is allowing some random daughter of one of his men call him by his first name.
Surely, you're going crazy.
"O-Oh," you find yourself stumbling over your words. You're not even sure what it is you're trying to say as you're saying it. "Well, th-then, um, Sylus--"
"--Sir!"
Halted at the sound of your father's voice, both you and Sylus' attention is shifted behind you. Your father comes rushing to the front of the office, looking out of breath and panicked.
"My apologies," he breathes, offering a bow. "I did not mean to take so long."
Sylus waves him off with a simple gesture of his hand. "It's fine," he assures with ease, "shall we?"
He gestures back towards the direction your father came from, the warehouse in which your father has set up what Sylus had come for today. Knowing that you're presence is no longer needed, you step back, with the intetion of moving towards the front desk.
"Y/N," your father calls, making you pause. You try to ignore the way Sylus' noticeable gaze falls on you in response, focusing on your father. "I need you to go pick up a package for me. Davie should have them ready and I'll need them for tomorrow."
Nodding, you change your direction, heading to grab your coat. "Sure thing, dad."
You expect that to be that, distantly hearing your father call for Sylus to follow him. Yet, once again, you're stopped by a voice; this time, Sylus.
"You'd send your daughter to grab a package on her own?"
Lips parting, you spin back to Sylus, confused. By the expression on your fathers face, he's just as confused.
"Y-Yes, sir," your father nods, obviously unsure of why Sylus cares. "Y/N often gets packages for me. It's... too hard for me to make the trip anymore."
Sylus frowns. "Surely you realize how unsafe it is for someone like your daughter to be walking through the N109 zone alone."
Your father seems stunned. To be fair, so are you. But, to save your father from stumbling over his words and making a fool of himself, you decide to brave Sylus' weirdly placed concern.
"It's alright, sir--Sylus," you assure, offering a gentle smile. "I've done it plenty of times. And I can protect myself if needed."
Sylus looks skeptical, his eyes running across your figure as his face twists in... concern? You're not sure and it's too much for you to even try and begin thinking about, so you choose not to. With another reassuring, polite smile, you finish pulling your coat on and step towards the door.
"I'll be back in a bit, dad," you smile at your father, before turning to Sylus. "Good luck with your meeting." You offer a short bow in response, and with that, you make your way out, unaware of Sylus' gaze that follows you.
Or, the pair of dark black eyes that follow you the second you step outside.
-
"Thank you, Davie. I'll make sure my father knows about the hiccup with the order."
"You're welcome there, Y/N." Davie smiles at you, "you sure you'll be okay heading home? I didn't think I'd keep you that long."
You just smile, brushing him off. "Not to worry, Davie. I'll be fine. It's a short walk."
Davie only hesitates a moment longer before nodding, offering you one final wave as you turn to make your walk home.
As you make your way back home, you pull your coat closer around yourself, keeping your eyes peeled around you in case of anything. You'd brushed it off to Davie, but realistically you were a little nervous walking home when it was already this dark out.
You hadn't expected the favour for your father to take that long, and you can't help but think about what Sylus had said before you'd left. It wasn't like you had thought he was wrong, but you'd been assured by the daylight and the fact that you had grown up in the N109 zone all your life.
Danger was something you were used to. It didn't mean it didn't frighten you though.
Your hand holds the small knife you carry with you at all times tightly, trying to hum quietly to yourself as you walk, pace fast.
You can't help but let your mind wander to how hard Sylus behaviour had been earlier that day. You weren't sure how the man treated other daughters of his employees, but you convince yourself he probably just had some sort of gentleman code he upheld. Sure he was the leader of a dangerous gang, didn't mean he was terrible in all aspects.
He'd never been anything but kind to you, even if conversations had been brief. Your father running behind today had just presented him the opportunity to speak more, and if anything, he'd just done it out of kindness.
His concern about you walking through the N109 zone alone? That was probably just because of the well-known knowledge of how dangerous N109 was and the fact that if anything happened to you, it would impact your fathers work.
Which would impact Sylus.
Yeah. That had to be it.
Shaking your head of silly thoughts, you take a sharp left, only to pause at the sight of a shadow up ahead. You instantly stop, feeting freezing beneath you, as you stare at the figure. You can't quite make out distinguishable features, but the build is clearly that of a man.
For a long, silent moment, the both of you stand there. Then, he steps forward.
You instantly step back, only to hear approach footsteps behind you. Your head snaps to the left, heart falling to the pit of your stomach when you see a man heading your way. A look to your right tells you another man is coming from that way too.
Breath hitching in panic, your eyes widen as a voice calls out;
"Well, hello there, pretty lady."
It's the man in front of you that calls it out, voice sickeningly sweet and promising nothing good. Feeling your body start to shake, you grip your knife tighter with your right hand, your left holding the pack and take a step back.
The man in front of you steps into the light, letting you see the lecherious grin on his face.
Swallowing thickly, you eye him for one long moment before turning around and breaking out into a run. You make it only a few steps before you feel a hand grab your shoulder, yanking you back. You don't waste a second, pulling the knife out from your coat pocket and swinging it at the man.
He dodges it, barely, but then the two other men reach you. They flank you on either side, and your arm swings out wildly, package falling to the ground with a bang as you let out a cry.
You manage to knick one of the men on the arm, him crying out in pain in response. It causes him to stumble back, giving you a bit of reprieve to try and break free. You strengthen your efforts into attacking with your knife, trying to ignore the fear radiating through your body and focus on the fight rather than flight.
But then, the man who you'd seen first, manages to grab your wrist. His grip pinches, fingers digging into your wrist as you try to pull your hand away.
"Stop!" You bellow, "no!"
It's useless. The men are stronger than you, especially with the two of them. And it doesn't go beyond your notice that the one you'd stabbed is getting back up too.
The two men overpower you, squeezing your wrist hard enough something pops and the knife clatters to the ground, leaving you completely defenceless.
Your arms are grabbed, body yanked forward until you're pressed against a wall. Pain radiates from your back where you're slammed up against the brick wall, a groan leaving your lips. It doesn't stop you, though, your hands striking out to push the man off of you.
"Fucking bitch," the one you'd stabbed bellows, striking you across the cheek. The punch stings, and you're sure your cheek is a bright pink as a result.
"This could've been so much easier for you," one of the men huffs at you, grabbing you by the chin to pull your gaze on him. "If you'd just submitted like a good girl."
Ignoring the rapid race of your heart, you narrow your eyes at him. "Fuck off."
Face twisting in anger, he grabs the wrist they'd sprained earlier, slamming it against the wall as you scream out in pain. It throbs in pain, strength leaving you as you try to fight back the tears that threaten to fall.
Your other wrist is pressed against the wall as well, and then something glints in your gaze.
"Now, stop fighting us or we'll really hurt you."
Eyeing the knife, the first tear slips past your defences, your vision blurring as your eyes water. It occurs to you then you really won't be able to fight your way out of this. Your only weapon had been taken from you and now you were the one with a weapon held against you.
"That clear?"
Swallowing thickly, you nod, inhaling sharply.
"Good," the man holding the knife grins. "Let's get started then."
A whimper leaves your lips as he steps towards you. His two henchman, one of them being the one you'd stabbed, hold you against the wall, grips never relenting as the main one stops in front of you. He drags the tip of the knife across your cheek, your body trembling as he continues down across the length of your neck until he reaches the collar of your blouse.
It occurs to you then that in your scuffle, you'd lost your coat.
"Please," you find yourself begging, bravo gone in face of your vulnerability. "Please don't."
"Too late, pretty lady," the one you'd stabbed leers at you. "We're going to make sure it hurts."
Letting out a sob, you weakly try to break free. It's useless.
The sound of buttons popping is all you hear as you squeeze your eyes shut, feeling the cold air hit your bare skin. The main man cuts away at your blouse like it's nothing, until you find your entire upper half bare, with nothing but your bra covering your modesty.
Sniffling, you feel your muscles freeze the second you feel lips press against your skin. The men lean into you, as if breathing you in, as you feel like you might throw up.
"Let's get this bra off," one of the men breathes against your neck.
You feel fingers slip underneath the strap of your bra and your breath hitches.
And then, you hear a cry of pain.
It startles you, eyes snapping open in confusion. For a second, you're not sure if you're the one who cried out in pain. But then, you realize that the man with the knife is no longer in front of you.
The men holding you seem just as confused, but before either of them can do anything, the one you'd stabbed is swept up in a mist of red and black and knocked back. He goes flying, your eyes widening as he lands againts the ground a few feet away from you, landing right on the shoulder you'd stabbed.
In the next second, the same mist takes the one to your right and sends him flying similarly.
You fall to your knees in an instant, legs giving out beneath you as you hold your throbbing wrist to your chest. You're terrified and baffled, not understanding what's happened.
And then, your answer steps in front of you.
Sylus steps in front of you, his gaze soft as he stares down at you. As he crouches in front of you, he's taking his jacket off of his shoulders and moving to wrap it around you. He's careful, making sure you know he means no harm as he covers you.
"S-Sylus?"
Your voice comes out small, broken. Sylus just shakes his head.
"Give me one second, Y/N. Then I'll get you out of here."
He stands back up, turning towards the scattered men on the ground before you. He instantly makes his way towards the main guy, towering over his cowering figure.
It seems Sylus' power really is something that precedes him.
As you sit there, pressed against the wall and cradling Sylus' jacket, it doesn't escape your attention that Sylus does more than just hurt the guy who'd held a knife to you. His other two henchman are hurt more by Sylus, but left for the two men who'd been standing back quietly waiting for Sylus' que. As Sylus turns back to you, he sends a nod at them.
It's clear what that means.
"Can I touch you?"
Blinking, you meet Sylus' gaze. He stares down at you, gaze soft and reassuring, making sure to keep his distance so as not to scare you.
Slowly, you nod.
-
Sylus doesn't take you back home.
Cradled in his arms, Sylus carries you all the way back to his place. When you quietly ask him about your father, he assures you that his men will inform your father of your whereabouts. You don't argue more than that.
Now, in Sylus' living room, you're wearing one of his shirts and sat on his couch while he bandages your wrist.
You've been otherwise silent until that moment, still startled and not really sure what to say. Sylus doesn't pressure you either.
But as you watch him finish bandaging your wrist, you find yourself speaking up.
"How did you know?"
Sylus glances up at your question, raising a brow as he meets your gaze. "Mephisto," he expains, using his head to gesture to his right. You follow his direction, eyes falling on the crow perched on a table across from you. "I can see through him."
You nod, even though you don't fully understand.
"I'm sorry it took me so long to get there," Sylus breathes. "They shouldn't have even been able to touch you."
Blinking, you stare down at him. "Why do you care?"
Sylus, to your surprise, seems shocked by your question. His eyes widen briefly, lips parting and it's the first time you've seen him unsure.
"Why wouldn't I care?"
"I'm just the daughter of one of your employees," you remind, shaking your head. "I'm nobody."
Leaning forward, Sylus shakes his head. "You could never be nothing." Then, pausing, he sighs. "I've... tried to make my affections for you obvious, but clearly I wasn't obvious enough."
Eyes widening, you blink back at him.
"You're not just some daughter, Y/N." Reaching forward, he slips his hand into your not sprained one, threading his fingers through yours and squeezing. "And no one will ever hurt you again."
The tears that well in your eyes are out of your control. As your lips begins to tremble, you stare down at Sylus.
"I was so scared."
You're pulled into his arms, head pressed against his chest as he envelopes you completely. Despite everything, the touch doesn't scare you. Instead, it fills you with an overwhelming sense of safety and assurance.
You let yourself fall into Sylus' embrace, clutching onto him.
✰ when wheezie drags her older brother as her chaperone to the famous ‘short n sweet’ tour to see y/n, her favorite popstar.
rating: sfw — cw: suggestive, mentions drug usage
“rafe!” wheezie called out as her fist repeatedly rapped against his door — no answer. “raaafe!” she called out again before letting out an impatient huff, crossing her arms across her chest as she impatiently waited. suddenly, the large door swung open to reveal her stoic-faced brother, a highly annoyed expression adorning his face. “what d’you want?” he mumbled, staring down at her expectantly with dull blue eyes.
“dad said you have to take me to a concert tonight,” she replied simply, a smug tone in her voice as she brushed past him into his room, dropping herself down onto his unmade bed. rafe spun on his heels in mild bewilderment at her action while mulling over her statement.
“what’re you talkin’ about, wheezie?” he sighed, simply wanting the conversation to be over with already. “got tickets for a concert tonight and you’re takin’ me,” she shrugged as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “and what makes you think that?” rafe laughed sarcastically, his long bangs shifting as he tilted his head condescendingly.
“well, i asked dad a couple weeks ago ‘n he said he can’t take me ‘cause he’s got plans with rose tonight or whatever — said he’d only get me tickets if you went with me so i told him you would,” she explained, a small smile pulling at the corners of her lips. “why—why would you do that?” rafe scoffed, “s’not happening.”
“figured you’d say that,” wheezie informed, pushing herself off his mattress and standing to her feet, “which is why i’ll just have to tell dad about your little… transaction.” she almost giggled to herself as she watch his eyebrows furrow together, knowing she was about to back him into a tight corner.
“what ‘transaction’ are you talkin’ about? can you make sense for, like, two seconds?” rafe insisted, leaning against the wall before letting out an annoyed sigh. “the one you made down at the pawn shop with dad’s rolex explorer — y’know, the one you said you’ve never seen a day in your life,” the girl countered.
rafe visibly tensed, unsure as to how his little sister knew anything about what he had done. “how d’you know ‘bout that?” he murmured, tongue poking at the inside cheek as he awaited an answer. “maybe don’t leave the receipt on the counter next time,” she sarcastically advised with a shrug before heading for the door and rafe silently cursed himself for such an obvious mistake.
“so, you’ll be ready by five?” she asked sweetly, smiling up at her brother as he pursed his lips, quirking his head to the side as he tightly shut his eyes for a moment, knowing he was between a rock and an extremely hard place.
“yeah, whatever… okay.”
an instant headache — rafe felt it as soon as they pulled into the parking lot of the overly-packed arena; hundreds of cars resulting in them walking nearly ten straight minutes to reach the entrance, and thousands of people to weave through in the process of security screenings, ticket scannings and merchandise purchasing for a crazily expensive t-shirt wheezie just had to have.
the trip alone was hell within itself; the concert was at a venue two-hundred miles away from home, so they had no other choice but to take the jet to avoid a three hour drive — courtesy of their father. though the trip was narrowed down to less than an hour, wheezie still spent the entire time blaring the exact songs she was about to hear in person, while simultaneously gushing to all her friends over the phone about how excited she was for that night. it was fair to say, rafe was already beyond over it.
finding their spot was fairly simple, seeing as their father purchased the best ones available — front row baracade, merely feet away from the main stage. simply leaving his sister to go wait in the car until the migraine of an event was over crossed his mind once or twice, but even he knew that was far from a sound idea. so, there he was, pressed between his sister and a plethora of random fangirls, all screaming at the top of their lungs as the lights began to dim.
he’d be lying if he said he’d never heard of y/n before — her name was everywhere online and her music played on the radio all too often, to which rafe would (almost) always turn off. despite the mild familiarity, he’d never truly seen what she looked like until that very night.
her voluminous, long locks bounced as she emerged from a stage door and skipped to the edge of the stage, sparkly microphone in hand as she greeted the massive crowd.
"welcome to the 'short 'n sweet tour', everybody!" she beamed, rosy cheeks complimenting her bright, white smile as her glossy eyes grazed over the thousands of faces staring back at her. she was stunning, rafe couldn't deny that, though her attire definitely confused him.
"why's she wearin' pajamas?" he yelled over the music as he leaned down towards his sisters ear, genuinely confused while also acknowledging just how well the corset hugged her figure underneath the sheer top. wheeze only rolled her eyes at her painfully clueless brother before averting her attention back to the stage where the show was finally beginning.
rafe felt as though hours had passed before he mentally checked back in to reality. though, here and there, he found himself ogling at her smooth legs as she pranced across the large stage, frequently widening his blue eyes in mild surprise whenever she’d pose suggestively or make a comment that almost had him wanting to cover his sister’s ears.
maybe it was the mind numbing commotion of the concert or simply the bump he took before boarding the jet that caused rafe not to notice the woman on stage staring down directly at him until his sister violently elbowed his ribcage. he let out a groan, holding a hand to his side before his blue eyes landed up on y/n gazing at him with a flirtatious grin on her face.
"guys, there's someone in the audience and i just— god, i'm getting flustered and super hot, right now," y/n gawked, fanning herself with her free hand while two of her equally sparkly dancers stood at either of her sides, one holding a fuzzy set of pink handcuffs that dangled from the tip of her finger.
the large screen behind her lit up with rafe's wide-eyed face and the crowd erupted into cheers and rather intense screams, undoubtably just as aware as y/n at just how attractive the man was. his crystal blue eyes were heavily dilated, jawline prominent from his clenched teeth, and curtain bangs messily splayed over his forehead — nothing short of perfection.
all the while, rafe felt as though his heart had suddenly fallen into the pit of his stomach, his blown out pupils darting from the screen, to her face, down to his sister who was jittering with sheer excitement, back to y/n who was now standing at the very edge of the stage.
"oh my god, i think i just found the love of my life," she fawned, eyes twinkling from the spotlight as she smiled, "what's your name?" rafe was completely frozen; the mixture of drugs in his system and bewilderment from the interaction as a whole causing him not to process the question fast enough to even try to respond.
"rafe!" wheezie yelled on his behalf, averting y/n's attention down to her. "ray?" y/n questioned, lightly furrowing her brows as she extended her microphone in the siblings' direction. "rafe!" wheezie shouted again, enunciating each syllable with her hands cupped around her mouth.
"rafe?" the pop-star asked, causing wheezie to nod enthusiastically, beyond ecstatic that her idol was actually speaking to her. "rafe," she repeated, a smile stretching across her glossy lips, "is he your brother?" wheezie nodded again, finding herself almost happy to be related to him for the first time in her life.
"well, rafe," y/n purred, a fluorescent stream of blue and red lights suddenly encasing the stadium, a loud siren sounding that quickly jolted him back into reality, the sound being all-too familiar, "i just love a family man, but unfortunately, you're under arrest for being too hot." rafe felt his cheeks heat up slightly at the comment and silently prayed wasn't visible on the big screen while a small smile pulled at his pink lips.
"you're so hot it's making me hot! and when i get too hot sometimes my clothes just—," y/n continued before the bottom half of her pink rhinestoned skirt fell down her legs, pooling around her matching boots, "oh, god, that's so embarrassing — you made my clothes come off, rafe."
rafe slowly nodded to himself, licking his pursed lips to keep from grinning like an idiot which only cause the packed stadium to roar even louder than before. rafe was never one to seek much validation from women, as he knows who he is and what he has to offer, but there was no denying that catching the attention of the pop icon had already boosted his ego (at least just a little).
a chime like tune of yet another song began to play as y/n grabbed the infamous fluffy cuffs before crouching down, handing them off to a security guard who passed them off to rafe himself. of course, wheezie snatched them from his hands just as soon as they graced his fingers and screamed about how y/n had just touched them.
for the remainder of the event, rafe found himself paying much more attention than before. maybe it was the way she said his name or the fact that she chose him out of everyone there, but his focus fully remained on her; the way her bottoms were way too small to cover much of anything, the way she looked so short even with 5-inch boots on, the way that every so often she would shoot a quick glance his way as if she didn't want him to catch her — maybe that part was all in his head, though he wasn't fully convinced that it was.
eventually, the end of the show came around and although rafe enjoyed watching the star prance around in a mini-skirt, he was also ready to get the hell home. y/n waved lovingly at the crowd, gratitude glistening in her doe eyes as she smiled before thanking them all for coming, wishing them a good night and disappearing behind the same door she emerged from hours before, leaving her fans to all buzz in the midst of the aftermath.
merely minutes passed as the arena slowly began to empty before a burly man dressed similarly to the security guards suddenly appeared in front of the siblings. "miss y/l/n requested i bring this to you. have a good one," he yelled over the commotion, placing a small envelope in rafe's hand before disappearing just as quickly as he had arrived.
"oh my god, open it," wheezie gushed, watching as her brother fumbled the paper between his long fingers with furrowed brows. his heart began to thump a little faster at the realization that she'd sent something for him — specifically for him. he slid out a small white card decorated with fresh, black ink and squinted as he read the calligraphy;
thank you for coming! your sister is the absolute cutest. i have a show coming up in charlotte, dm me on ig @ yourinstahandle if you'd both like to come!
xox — y/n
“no fucking way,” wheezie gawked, before jumping up and down as she squealed, “no way, she said i’m cute, oh my god, oh my god — rafe, text her right now, oh my god, i’m gonna pass out, like, actually.”
“wheeze, chill out,” rafe urged, slightly grimacing at her strong language, though he, too, was a bit overwhelmed with all that had happened; the entire night was beginning to feel like a fever dream, for both rafe and his little sister. “are we going? we’re going,” she rushed out, causing rafe to quickly slide the note into his pocket. “look, let’s just get home, alright?” he mumbled.
“are you gonna message her? you have to, i’m not kidding,” wheezie questioned as the pair weaved their way through hundreds of bodies, slowly but assuredly making their way towards the flooded exit. “dunno, wheezie,” he muttered dismissively, “c’mon, hurry up.”
the walk to the car, as well as the drive to the jet, consisted of wheezie’s persistent nagging and begging for her brother to do what she called a ‘once in a lifetime thing that will literally never happen again… like, ever’. rafe didn’t want to come off as some ‘fanboy’ by actually messaging the popstar just for the sake of some tickets to her concert, though he’d be lying if he said he wouldn’t like to see her again.
it was all confusing for him, to say the least. he wasn't big on celebrities or fame, but was well aware of how insane what had happened was. after nearly half an hour of sitting slouched in his seat on the plane, head thrown back with his eyes squeezed shut as wheezie gave him (almost literally) a hundred-and-one different reasons as to why he needed to message y/n and take her up on her offer — some of which being subtle threats of what exactly she would do if rafe 'messed this up' for her.
"alright, wheeze, please," he begged, desperate for just a moment of silence, "if i do it you gotta shut up already — m'brains gonna fuckin' explode." with that, wheezie was mute as rafe pulled the device from his pocket, searching up the username that honestly didn't need to be given, before tapping on her profile and shooting her a quick, yet definitely overthought, message.
"done," rafe murmured, lightly shaking his phone in wheezie's direction before tossing it onto the table in front of him, leaning his head against the window with closed eyes. his sister smiled wordlessly to herself, covering her mouth to keep from squealing before rapidly typing on her phone to everyone she knew to tell them all about the best night of her life.
a day passed before y/n finally found her way to rafe's message. thousands upon thousands of dm's awaited unopened in her inbox, so much so that she knew it'd be nearly impossible to find him, assuming he decided to message her at all. luckily, his name was rather uncommon and had stuck in her brain all night, so with a quick search and a few seconds of scrolling, she came across a profile that sparked her interest.
"wait, is this him?" y/n gasped, a small smile making it's way to her face as she quickly padded across the hotel room with bare feet before shoving her phone into her manager's face, "i mean, that looks like him, right?"
"oh, for sure," the other girl confirmed, grabbing the device and zooming in on his profile picture. “stop, i’m gonna throw up,” y/n halfheartedly joked while leaning over her managers shoulder, “ahh, can you check if he dm’d me? i’m nervous.”
“you’re nervous?” the older woman questioned, genuinely curious as to how it was even possible that the same woman who performed in front of tens of thousands every night could be so worked up over some random guy.
“yes, just look, please,” y/n whined, dropping herself flat onto the large bed before burying her face into the pristine pillows with a huff. “he’s so hot,” she cried out into the cotton, her voice muffled against it.
“okay,” her manager laughed, tapping the screen a couple of times with manicured nails before letting out a soft gasp. “stop,” y/n gasped as well, lifting her head from the pillow with disheveled hair before bouncing off the bed and sprinting back to the other girl’s side, “what’d he say?!”
“he said, and i quote, ‘yo, it’s rafe’,” the woman recited in a monotone voice before looking up at y/n with a less than enthused expression, “wow… a modern day romeo.”
“okay, he’s not trynna woo me,” y/n laughed softly, gently taking her phone back and reading over the message. “clearly,” her manager muttered, “is he coming tomorrow?”
“i don’t know, maybe,” y/n mumbled as her thumbs hovered over the screen, unsure of what to do next. “well,” the other woman concluded, standing to her feet and straightening out her blouse, “let me know as soon as you do so i can get them their backstage tickets. and remember, we’ve got to leave here by five for the premiere — not a second later.”
with that, she exited the room in silence, leaving y/n to stare down at her phone as she chewed anxiously at the inside of her lip. why was she struggling so much? she’s talked to guys before and never was it ever that hard. she didn’t even know the guy, yet he somehow already had her stomach fluttering at the thought of him.
time was wasting with each passing second, and with a long night full of interviews and appearances, she decided she was simply giving it way too much thought and decided to finally pull the trigger.
she grimaced as soon as she hit send — definitely not her best work but it was something. she locked her phone and tossed it onto the duvet, letting out a groan before deciding it was time to do something other than stress over a man.
instead, she turned on some music and began the lengthy process of getting ready for a huge event such as the one she had that night. she showered, blow dried her infamous locks and even ironed her sleek, black dress in preparation — something she never does. the morning was casual, productive, and slow; all until she heard her phone chime from across the room. she bolted over to it, almost tripping over her own feet, before scooping it up to find rafe had responded.
as soon as their conversation ended, y/n called her manager and squealed out the information as she bounced giddily on her feet, even more excited for the following day's show than she thought possible. her manager assured her that everything would be situated before the next day, and to focus on the night ahead first, but y/n felt as though it would be virtually impossible — how could she? she was going to see rafe again.
extras:
personapeters 2025 — all rights reserved • masterlist
Warnings: mentions of injuries, mentions of a hospital/ medbay, being soaked, I'm probably switching between tenses, probably more mistakes
A/M: this is a little birthday gift for the lovely @anika-ann 🩷 idk if you remember but we did have a little conversation about Steve using flower codes like this 🥰 I hope you enjoy!
Divider by @saradika-graphics
Dating Steve Rogers had it's perks. Like falling asleep in a warm embrace, endless treats because he felt like it, fresh flowers every Monday, surprise visits for lunch, the list goes on. But it certainly also had it's downsides. Waking up to an empty bed because he went on his morning run, waking up at 3am to an emergency callout, being alone and worrying while he's on a mission. Overall it was great though. You've never felt as loved before.
With Steve came his little disfunctionsl family that never failed to show up for you when Steve was out of town. May it be Tony bringing you a treat or Natasha inviting you for movie night or just going on a walk with Clint and Lucky. It was like you were part of their family and you're pretty sure you are.
The day started off like any other when Steve was out on a mission. You woke up to an empty bed, missing the heat Steve usually brought along throughout the night. By the time you finally convinced yourself to get up and ready for the day you usually already have a morning text from him. Every single one no matter how small or articulate brought a smile to your face. It meant he was safe and that was the most important thing. It also made you miss him more and often led to worry that it might have been the last morning text you'd ever receive from him.
Deciding you need to get ready to head to work you made your way to the bathroom and from there your day just turns south. The toothpaste you could swear was full last night was suddenly empty, the new fancy hair tool blowed out a fuse and your makeup just doesn't wanted to turn out the way you need it to. Cutting your losses you grabbed your lunch, shoved it in your work bag and headed out.
The way to work was not better. It was raining cats and dogs and on top of that storming so bad your umbrella didn't held a chance. You arrived at the office wet, cold and with a deep regret of not listening to Steve who told you to keep a change of clothes at work. Settled in at your desk you just had to vent about the morning you had. Steve always encouraged you to text him about everything, even if he couldn't answer right away. So you did just that before starting up your computer and trying to find the best position to stay out of the ac blasting air your way. You managed to get some tasks done despite your manager scrambling all the plans once again and soon found yourself taking out your lunch. The red container lid made you stop. Red was pre cut onions and garlic... Purple was your lunch. Your shoulders sacked as you opened the container and did indeed find onions and garlic chopped into cubes. Well this wouldn't suffice as lunch and it was still storming outside. What were you supposed to do? Maybe the break room had some leftovers you could grab if no one claimed them before you. Just as you were about to head there you spotted a familiar brunette at the reception. Her green eyes met yours as the receptionist points your way and her face lit up with a smile. Oh you were never happier to see Wanda strolling in for a lunch date than today!
The bag from your favourite sandwich place made your mouth water as you meet her halfway only to usher her back to your cubicle.
"You're wet!" Her concern made you remember that you where still in your now only a bit dryer clothes from this morning. As you explain the situation to her she frowns. "Well I've been shopping before this. You can change into the clothes I got so you won't get sick." Wanda's eyes are full of concern as she pulls some pieces out of a brown paper back. A pair of dark blue jeans, white sneakers and a nice blue sweater land in your hands before she ushers you off to the bathroom to change. You're so glad you share the same shoe size, the wet shoes bothered you the most. As you return she already has the sandwich, a softdrink and your favourite side set out for you, alongside her sandwich and a soup. The soup is quickly shared between you and your break is filled with laughter, reassurance that Steve will return in one piece and a warm hug goodbye. Wanda takes along your wet clothes, promising to dry them and leaves you with a new rain jacket she bought today because she thought it was pretty. As you go back to work, refueled and with your mind refreshed you never even think about the fact that you and Wanda don't share the same size.
During the second half of your shift you get a text informing you that the sent out team, alongside your beloved captain, is on their way back but that Steve is injured and probably needs surgery. They asked you to come in after you're done for the day so you're there when he wakes up. You spent the time left from your shift worrying about him and as soon as the clock strikes 4pm you're on your way out.
The rainjacket Wanda suplied you with comes in handy with the awful weather. Luckily you make it to the subway before the 5pm rush and board the line that stops closest to the tower. It takes you half an hour till you finally step into the lobby of the tower and rush to the elevator where your second favourite blonde is already waiting for you. Clint gives you a wave and an encouraging smile before he ushers you into the elevator. "He's fine. Already awake from surgery but still a bit loopy from whatever they pumped into him to make him sleep. Loverboy got shot when he went back in for hostages, you know how he is." Clint explains and hands you the cup he was holding. You know it's your favourite tea without even trying and thank you with a small smile. "He's stupid sometimes..." You attempt to joke and Clint gives you a smile and a nod.
"That he is. But he'll be fine. So throw those worries out and please enjoy him drugged up on anesthetic while it lasts. It's a rare opportunity." That is true. Normally his system burns through anything in minutes if not even seconds. The medbay team had been struggling for years till they finally figured something out that worked. And even that didn't stay long in Steve's body. You follow Clint to the room that your boyfriend is in and already hear the laughter of his best friends. Clint throws you an I-told-you-so smile before he leads you inside. Your eyes immediately fall on your boyfriend, bandaged up, with his hips awkwardly lifted as Bucky seemingly helps him get his underwear on, with the blanket hiding his modesty. Both Sam and Bucky are laughing but stop as soon as they see you. Bucky finishes what he's been doing and keeps his hand on Steve's chest to keep him from sitting up.
Your boyfriend immediately perks up when he sees you. "Sweetheart!" His goofy smile immediately falls into a deep frown when he takes you in. You step closer and cup his face softly. "Hey..." You say quietly but his frown is still in place. "You're sad..." He says it with such disappointment that you almost think he's gonna fight the entire world for you. "A bit yeah... I'm worried." You say and try to smooth out the frown on his forehead. He throws the arm that's not in a sling out to Bucky. "Buck! Give me my phone!" The order is barked a bit too loud. Everyone is confused for a moment. At the silence and lack of phone his eyes snap to Bucky with a venom you have never seen on your boyfriends face before. "Phone. Now." He barks so serious you almost ask yourself if the anesthetic already wore off. "Why?" Bucky asks, the confusion still on his face.
"She's sad! I need to send a code to Clint so he asks her to join him on a walk with Lucky!" He explains as if it's super obvious. You're confused... a code? To Clint? Your eyes wander from Steve, to Bucky over Sam and then to Clint. Bucky looks like he's mentally facepalming himself, Sam stands there as if his mother caught him doing something that's definitely forbidden and Clint hides his amusement behind his cup of coffee. "Steve. Clint is in the room with us." Bucky deadpans and Steve looks to Clint. He lights up a bit. "Oh good! Clint! Code hyacint!"
Clint chuckles and shakes his head, looking at you. He's enjoying the free show way too much after an exhausting mission. Steve's face grows angry but before he can snap at Clint you pull his attention to you. "Code hyacint? Steve what's that supposed to mean?" You ask and he just blinks at you.
"It means... That... I text that to Clint when you're sad. You like dogs and nature so I ask him to take you for a walk with Lucky." Your confusion melts away to adoration. That's so cute and considerate. You smile at him and press a kiss to his forehead.
"That's very kind of you Stevie. But I'd rather stay here and be with you at the moment. Is that okay?" You asks sweetly and he beams at you. "Yes! Do you need anything? I can text a code to someone else!" He offers with childlike excitement.
"There's... more than one?" You ask, your unsure gaze snaps at Bucky's stifled chuckle. "There's an entire bouquet." Sam grins, seemingly more comfortable with the situation now. You're confused once again. An entire bouquet? How many exactly where there?
"Don't be mad. I just don't want to lose you." Steve pouts at you. "Lose me? Steve that's insane you wouldn't lose me..." You're interrupted by a sob from your boyfriend.
"You're the best thing that ever happened to me! You're my one shot at love! I'm sorry for going behind your back but when I'm not home I need all the help I can get!" Tears stream down his face as he grabs your hand a bit tighter as if you'd run away if he didn't.
"S...so I asked them to help me! I thought of scenarios and what could help you. And then I made up a flower code for it. Like when you told me about your morning and how your clothes were wet I texted Wanda code rain lily so she would bring you new clothes. Or last week when you were sad about that friend canceling your dinner I sent Nat code sunflower for a movie night and Tony code dandelion so he'd bring your favourite snacks." You try to wipe away the tears streaming down his face. "I'm so sorry! Will you forgive me?" His sobs break your heart.
"Stevie... There's nothing to forgive... Am I a bit disappointed your friends played along without telling me? Yeah. But you just did it out of the goodness of your heart." You coo and his tears slowly stop.
"We were forced!" Sam exclaims while Bucky chuckles. You look at them with an eyebrow raised before Clint gets your attention with his confession that he just did it so he could spend more time with you. Your heart melts a little at that.
After explaining everything a bit more, Sam and Bucky being banned from the room by Clint and Steve falling asleep again you sit nest to his bed and hold his hand. Clint sits on the opposite side of the bed and reads a report on his phone while sipping coffee. Steve's act of love and service still tumbles around your mind and you can't hold yourself back any longer.
"How many codes are there?" You ask. Clint looks over his phone to you. He seems to think if he should reveal even more about their system. "Several." He answers and lowers the phone. "It started with a few but as your relationship grew so did the codes. Some were brought up by Steve and others... we're brought up by us." You lift your eyebrows in surprise at that. You don't even need to ask before Clint continues. "Yes by us. We all really like you and when he's home Steve really hogs all of your time. So it became a little competition who would get to spend time with you when he wasn't around. Wanda started it. She came up with the code to bring you new clothes... Which she did today. Tony quickly caught on what she was doing and showed Steve ten more scenarios that could happen." You chuckle at that.
"How did you keep up with all that? A list?" Your eyes wander to Steve's sleeping form. He truly is the perfect partner. How could anyone be as considerate as him? Get all his friends to go along with it so he wouldn't lose you? He would never have even without them. And his friends loving you so much they'd want to spend time with you? Your heart fills with warmth and happiness at the thought alone. And to think you'd been nervous that they wouldn't like you.
"Yeah. We have a list and we had a whole briefing." You laugh at that and Clint smiles. "He was all captain mode. He's very serious about you... Even our reassurance that you wouldn't leave him didn't calm him down." You softly start to brush your thumb over the back of Steve's hand that you're holding. "Well don't tell him or anyone else that you were right... I would never leave him. Especially not when he has such a big heart." Clint laughs and shakes his head. He pulls out his phone again and smirks at you. You know there's no promise that he'll keep that a secret but at least he won't tease Steve with it.
