Hello friends, new and old alike! Welcome to my Masterlist!
The majority of my content is stories, whether that be one shots or books or anything in between. Below is a growing list of all of my works so far. Some characters may not yet have works, those are in progress. I am always open to requests of any characters, even if they are not mentioned below. Love you all and keep on dreaming 🤍
Marvel
Bucky Barnes
Prey - One Shot
In the Blink of an Eye (mafia au) - One Shot
More (mob au) - One Shot
Runaway Bride - One Shot
Rain Therapy - One Shot
The Thin Line - One Shot
Logan Howlett
The Breaking Point - One Shot
Stranger Things
Eddie Munson
What Makes a Hero - One Shot
Star Wars
Din Djarin
The Past that Haunts - One Shot
Reluctant Protector - One Shot
Part 1
Part 2
Misc.
Sierra Six
Bullet for You - One Shot
Taking Requests for:
All characters above
Marvel
Star Wars
Stranger Things
Divergent
Peaky Blinders
Actors
Books
Narnia
Anything else you can think up! How to set up a request for me is right here.
Summary: Of one thing you were certain—Bucky Barnes hated you, and you hated him. How could you not, considering the super soldier had made it his personal mission to make your life a living hell after you had been assigned to protect him? But there was someone after Bucky from his past, and now he was forced to work alongside you to stop them. And in the process, you would find out just how thin that line was between love and hate.
A/N: This one comes from this request that I received a while back! I have been criminally slow in responding and I sincerely apologize. Hopefully this makes up for it a little bit 🤍
Warnings: blood and violence (all canon for the MCU), someone takes a severe beating (may or may not be reader), ANGST, fluff scattered here and there, fatws!Bucky, banter, mature themes and allusions, grumpy!Bucky
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Hate. There was perhaps no other word as final and lasting as hate.
People had always said that there was a thin line between love and hate, that the two emotions were so similar it was often hard to tell them apart. But not to you. You knew the line between them distinctly.
You had seen people fall out of love as easily as the winking out of a candle, and in the same manner you’d watched a person’s hate burn on even past the grave. You couldn’t understand how someone could mix up the two emotions, not when love had always seemed so fleeting and hate so persistent.
What you didn’t know just yet was that the passion involved in both love and hate often danced upon that line you were so sure was distinct to you. You didn’t know that love, real love was barely an emotion at all. And you certainly didn’t know that when one person truly loved another, it was anything but fleeting.
It was the one thing that lasted longer than hate.
But it wasn’t your fault that you didn’t know. After all, how could you? You’d never known real love.
At least, not yet.
|||
The sky seemed to sparkle as the rare sunshine blasted through the clouds and beamed down upon the city of Brooklyn.
But in this moment, you couldn’t fully appreciate its glory. No, not when this happened to be the day you were moving box after box of your belongings into your new apartment. The dazzling sun dared to make you collapse under its rays as you hauled out the last box of your stuff from your car. Sweat slipped down your spine as you managed to slam the trunk shut while balancing the box precariously on one hand. With a huff, you gripped the last box tightly and swiveled towards your apartment complex for the last time.
By the time you’d managed to get into the lobby and over to the elevator, you were practically dreaming of being able to drop down this last box into your new apartment and drop dead on your new couch. You could almost taste the beer you’d picked up on your way into the city and-
“You have got to be kidding me!” You exclaimed, dread coursing through your frame as you read the sign taped onto the elevator doors.
Out of Service.
“Sorry ‘bout that,” The concierge called, leaning on his desk and offering you an uncaring smile, “Stupid thing’s been breaking down all month.”
And you haven’t fixed it yet?
The angry words stayed in your head as you decided with a long sigh that the argument wasn’t worth it.
“That’s fine,” You gritted out, adjusting your hold on the box, “I’ll just take the stairs.”
“Good luck,” The concierge wished, his tone bored.
Not even an offer to help you? The urge to yell at the worker was growing by the second, but you were determined to start this mission out right. Gritting your teeth, you walked over to the stairs and started climbing them without giving yourself time to hesitate. This was going to be a long journey up, and you’d rather get it over with as fast as possible.
By the time you reached your floor, your arms were trembling with effort and your legs were moments from giving out. You took the last step up the stairs onto your floor, letting out a sigh of relief as you paused only for a moment. Just a few more steps and you’d be at your door.
You took half of a step when someone slammed right into you. With the box obstructing your view, you couldn’t see the person coming and they clearly hadn’t seen you. You let out a yelp as you stumbled back towards the stairs behind you. In sudden panic to not tumble down them, you released the box you were holding to free your hands. Just as you were grappling for a railing or something to keep you from falling, a gloved hand gripped your arm and yanked you forward, away from the stairs.
You stumbled right back into the person who had just collided with you seconds prior. As you fell into their hard chest, you were bewildered since you were sure you had dropped the box right…
As you glanced up, you saw the box you had released resting easily on one of the stranger’s hands. His other was still holding your arm, and it was then that you realized that his hand was ice cold. Even with the glove on. With furrowed brows, you glanced up towards the stranger.
“Thank-” Your words died abruptly as your eyes met steel blue ones burning down at you. His hair was shorter and his face was drawn into a look of slight annoyance, but it was him. Your mission had run into you before you could even move into your apartment, “You.”
James Buchanan Barnes released your arm, his stubbled jaw clenched in the way you figured it often was. You would be lying if you said it was only your mission that made your thinking halt so swiftly, because none of his pictures did Bucky’s roguish beauty justice. He was ruggedly, painfully, hopelessly handsome, and you scrambled to collect your mind.
“Don’t mention it,” Came Bucky’s low reply. His voice shot straight through you, setting your hairs on end and stirring something in your chest. With easy strength that now made sense, Bucky held onto your box with one hand, “Moving in today?”
It took every ounce of your strength not to giggle. His words were strained and almost…awkward. You knew he didn’t talk much anymore, but it was hopelessly adorable how he was trying to make small talk. With a smile you kept restrained, you nodded.
“In that unit right there, actually,” You replied, walking over to your door and turning back towards the super soldier, “Thanks for saving my box.”
“I think I saved more than that,” Bucky quipped, his tone smooth and rough all at once. You raised an eyebrow at the man.
His arrogant charm was still intact, that’s for sure.
“Well thanks for that too,” You responded, pulling your keys from your pocket and unlocking your door. As you shouldered it open, you held out your hands to take the box back.
You could tell he wanted to carry the box in for you, a remnant of the 40’s manners that were ingrained deep within him. You kept your hands out for the box, to which Bucky gave in swiftly. You breathed a quiet sigh of relief as he did. Had he brought it in for you, he would have seen the surveillance equipment and weapons scattered about the unpacked apartment.
“Well, I’m next door if you need anything.” Bucky stepped back once you had the box in your hands, half of your body inside your open door. You smiled at him, internally cheering that this mission had already begun on such a great foot.
“Nice to meet you, neighbor,” You announced, your trained eyes taking in the bags underneath his eyes and the tense hold of his frame, “I’m Y/N.”
He hesitated only for a moment, “Bucky.”
And just like that, he had turned on his heel and walked away towards the stairs. You watched him go for a second, intrigue filtering into your gaze. He was distant and detached like you had expected, and the air of grumpiness he bore was unmistakable. But there was a softness to him that you couldn’t deny. Only a touch, but it was there.
Before he could see you watching him, you fully entered your apartment and made sure the door shut behind you. Setting the box down with a huff, you settled your hands onto your hips and surveyed the controlled chaos before you. A few handguns lay strewn around, and your secured technology was piled atop the couch you so desperately wanted to drop onto.
But you couldn’t sleep, not just yet. There was work to be done.
Out of your entire CIA division, you were the operative that Sam Wilson had tasked with keeping an eye on his lone wolf of a friend. Even though Sam knew he could take care of himself, he had asked you to keep tabs on Bucky to ensure he was safe, especially since the Winter Soldier had racked up a list of enemies just dying to exact revenge now that the world was back to semi-normal.
But this wasn’t the Winter Soldier. This was Bucky Barnes, and even though you knew he could handle his own, you were not going to take this mission lightly. You would look out for him, make sure he didn’t drop off the grid like he loved to do, make sure no rogue enemies took him down.
You would protect him, even though you knew Bucky would kill you and Sam if he found out.
So, you would just have to keep him from finding out.
|||
It had been almost two months since you moved in, and the most you had talked with Bucky since your first encounter was in passing on the stairs and the occasional elevator ride.
Of course, you had formatted your daily routine to oppose his perfectly, ensuring you would run into him as many times as passable for coincidence in a day. Even with that, though, all you managed to get out of Barnes was a nod or the occasional hello. He truly was a lone wolf—quiet, grumpy as hell, and, well, alone.
Even with his avoidance of you and all other humans in general, you managed to survey him nearly every day. It had been quiet. No intruders, no threats, no disappearances. Physically, he was perfectly safe. Mentally?
You shook your head at the thought. Bucky needed a life. And social interaction. Sam called you often, wondering if he was still alive considering how much Bucky dodged his texts. It was almost like he wanted to be separated. Like he was punishing himself for something.
That last thought rang through your mind as you started cleaning the dishes you had acquired from your dinner. As the warm, sudsy water ran across your fingers and over the pot you were washing, your brows were furrowed in concentration. If Bucky really was keeping his distance on purpose, maybe protecting him physically wouldn’t be the object of this mission.
But you weren’t trained for that. You were trained for gun fights and strategy and high-level, covert operations. You were trained to infiltrate criminal holdings and take down dangerous individuals. You were trained to attack, protect, defend, strategize.
That’s why you noticed that Bucky Barnes’ door didn’t open precisely at the same time that it had every night for two months.
You paused in your dish-washing, setting down the pot into the sink and turning off the faucet. Letting silence cloak your apartment, you listened closely for the sound of his footsteps or the shutting of his door.
Nothing.
He could be running late, but Bucky never ran late. He never-
There was the smallest shuffle of a foot against your wooden floor.
You shot your hand out and grabbed the knife you had just washed, but you were a moment too slow. Just as your hand closed around the handle and you began to turn around, your back was shoved into your fridge and the knife ripped out of your hand.
Before you could even blink, Bucky Barnes had you pinned against the fridge with his metal hand around your throat.
Your pulse ratcheted up painfully, your eyes wide as you gripped onto his metal wrist. His grip wasn’t constricting your airway, but was applying enough pressure to remind you that your life was currently in his grasp. Bucky was close to you, so close that you could see the flecks of gray in his blue eyes as well as the fury that crossed through them.
“Who the hell are you?” His voice sent a shiver down your spine. It was dark and rough and even, and it should not have had the effect on you that it did.
His body heat poured into you with how close he was to you, and the cold metal of his hand was a sharp contrast. Breathing was difficult, and not entirely because of his hand on your throat. There was something in the air between you, something thick and palpable. You swallowed, keeping your breathing as even as you could.
“Your neighbor,” You responded, not entirely having to fake the tremble in your tone.
“Bullshit,” Bucky growled, his grip on your throat tightening the slightest bit, “You’ve been tailing me for weeks. Who do you work for?”
“Just because our schedules clash doesn’t mean-”
“If one more lie comes out of your pretty little mouth, I’ll make sure whoever hired you is the only one who knows your death wasn’t an accident.” Bucky was unflinching, cold hard rage burning across his features. Beneath it, though, you could see fear. So much fear. It made your heart nearly crumble.
He was scared you were here to hurt him.
“I’m with the CIA,” you finally whispered, your tone no longer shaking despite his outright threat. For some reason, you knew he would not hurt you, “I’m here to watch out for you, make sure you’re safe.”
Bucky’s grip on your throat lessened the slightest bit, and his brows furrowed as he tried to make sense of why the CIA would surveil him. Not giving him a chance to speak, you continued, “And I’m pretty sure the person who hired me would come here and beat your ass himself if you killed me.”
You paused, nodded your head to the side slightly and said more to yourself than him, “Well, he’d try.”
“Who hired you?” Bucky repeated, his tone less harsh than before, but just as dark.
You took a beat to consider your options, but conceded defeat with a sigh, “Sam Wilson.”
Being so close to him, you could see every emotion that flashed through his face. As you watched him work through anger to frustration to annoyance, his grip on your throat loosened until his hand was just resting against your neck.
“Unbelievable,” Bucky grumbled, pulling his hand off of your neck and stepping back in one swift motion.
You let out a full breath, bringing a hand up to touch your throat where his metal hand had just been. You felt suddenly cold without his body heat by you, but it was a cold that you welcomed. If this was how he was going to thank you for trying to help him then you couldn’t wait to be away from him.
You looked over to see Bucky a few strides away, his phone pressed to his ear and his hand on his hip. Before you could speak to him, whoever he was calling must have picked up, but you didn’t have to guess at who it was.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Bucky suddenly exploded, his jaw tight. Whatever Sam said didn’t appease him because his exasperation only intensified.
“You Sharon Carter’ed me!” Bucky gritted out, “Steve was clueless so he didn’t notice until she was on his doorstep with a gun, but did you really think I wouldn’t?”
“Sharon Carter’ed?” You mumbled, confused. Shaking your head, you took a step closer to Bucky, “Listen, if you’ll just give me a minute to explain,”
Bucky stopped you, pointing in your direction, “No, you don’t get to talk here.”
Shock crashed over you as he continued to argue with Sam over the phone. Indignation flared within your chest and you sputtered for a moment, trying to comprehend the fact that he had just shushed you in your own apartment.
“Nuh uh,” You interrupted, anger flaring hot in your veins as you stormed over to Bucky, “This is my apartment and you do not get to waltz in here, choke me out, then tell me I can’t speak.”
“You choked her out?” Sam shouted on the other side of the phone, so loud even you could hear it. Bucky’s eyes were hard as he dropped the phone to his side and took a step closer to you. He was menacing when he wanted to be, and right now, towering over you with a quiet sort of anger, he was. If only you scared easily.
“Oh really?” He nearly whispered, his anger flooding down at you. You could see him getting more frustrated the longer you stared him down right back, your chin tilted up and your gaze as leveled with his as it could be considering his height and stature, “You’ve been spying on me for weeks and now I’m the one invading your space?”
“I wasn’t spying on you, I was looking out for you. If you haven’t noticed, your friend is a little more than worried about you!” You fired back. You heard Sam saying something on the phone, but it was still down by Bucky’s side.
The two of you were staring each other down, that same thick tension in the air. Not thinking about the consequences, you reached down and snatched the phone from Bucky’s grasp and turned it on speaker.
Bucky looked at you in pure shock, as if he couldn’t believe you’d actually just taken the phone from him.
“You’re on speaker now, Sam,” You informed.
“Finally,” Sam sighed over the phone, his tone surprisingly even and patient, “Buck, you gotta understand where I’m coming from. You don’t answer anyone’s texts, you don’t check in, and I know for a fact you’ve had one or two unwelcome visitors at your door.”
“I can handle myself, Sam,” Bucky gritted out.
“I know you can, but you shouldn’t have to! I know that it’s hard with Steve gone, so-”
“No, you don’t know.” Bucky’s voice was final, and Sam paused, not seeming to fight with his statement. Bucky stared down at the floor, his arms crossed over his chest.
You couldn’t help but stare at him. There was a sadness in those words, one that nearly shattered your heart. Your anger towards the super soldier softened the slightest bit.
“You’re right, I don’t,” Sam conceded, “But I’m trying to reach out here. We don’t have many people left, man. I don’t want to lose another friend.”
That seemed to soften the edge of Bucky’s frustration so deeply that even the frown set into his face disappeared. In its place was resignation.
“I’m not here to intrude on your life,” You chimed in, making Bucky glance up to you, “I’m just here to make sure you’re safe.”
“I don’t need a babysitter,” Bucky grumbled.
“I’m not your babysitter,” You assured, “And trust me, after tonight I want to spend as little time around you as you do around me. So, let’s make a deal. I keep to myself and you don’t break into my place and try to kill me in my sleep.”
Bucky hesitated, his eyes surveying you closely. On the phone between you, Sam piped up, “And you have to answer my texts.”
Bucky groaned, running a hand through his short, dark hair before shaking his head. After what seemed like an eternity, he sighed in defeat, and you couldn’t stop the small smile of victory that tugged on your lips.
“Fine,” He gave in, his eyes turning up to lock with yours, “But if I see you tailing me one more time, deal’s off.”
“No promises,” You responded boldly, your heart pounding strangely as Bucky took a menacing step closer to you.
“Then no promises about breaking in,” He shot back. The two of you glared intensely at each other until a voice called out from the phone.
“Alright you two, knock it off,” Sam ordered, sounding so incredibly tired, “Now can I please go? You caught me right in the middle of my beauty sleep.”
You chuckled softly, a smile ghosting your lips again, “Bye Sam,”
You ended the call and handed the phone back to Bucky, who you found already staring at you. You couldn’t place the look in his gaze, but it seemed akin to disdain, so your smile dropped.
“How did you even get into my apartment?” You asked. Bucky kept his arms crossed over his chest, making his biceps bulge against his long-sleeve Henley.
“You tell me, you’re CIA,” He shrugged, looking too smug, “Or should I call Sam back and tell him he sent a novice to babysit me?”
“Stay out of trouble, Barnes,” Was all you said back, your jaw held tight.
“Have fun with your dishes,” Bucky dryly responded, brushing past you without another word towards your door. Frustration bubbled up within your gut, and it took every ounce of your patience to not turn and yell right back at him. So, taking a deep breath, you turned and watched him open your apartment door.
He paused and glanced back over at you before he was fully out, “And stay out of my way. I’m doing this for Sam, not because I need your help.”
Then he slammed your door and left.
Taking all of your energy not to scream, you let out another sigh and put a hand to your forehead. Gone was the distant, polite neighbor. You had failed epically, but you couldn't from here on out.
Bucky Barnes was going to make your life hell, and you already dreaded every second to come.
|||
Over the next month, your nods and hello’s in passing turned into grunts and, if you were lucky enough, the occasional insult you could fire back at.
In short, you loathed Barnes.
Looking back, you couldn’t fathom how his handsome features had drawn you in when you first met. Sure, he was still stupidly attractive, but now it was more frustrating than it was something to fawn over.
You still did your job as best you could, but you counted the days until Sam could come up to New York and take over the mission for you.
Currently, you were mulling over ways to subtly infuriate Barnes more than you already did as you walked back to your apartment complex from your run. You tried to get out and run at a park nearby a few times a week, but considering how much you hated running, you’d missed a few weeks in the process.
Today, though, you just had to go. You needed to clear your head after you bumped into Barnes this morning and he informed you that somehow, the potted plant hanging on your balcony “accidentally” ended up on the ground five stories down.
As you walked back into the cool lobby of your apartment building, you glanced up at the stairs that sat right beside the elevator. You paused for just a moment, considering if you should be healthy and take the stairs. That moment was swifter than you’d like to admit as you turned towards the elevator only to find the doors closing.
Against the protest of your legs sore from your run, you jogged over to the elevator, “Hey, hold the doors!”
As you approached, you saw a hand shoot through and stop the doors from closing just in time. As they opened back up, you sighed in relief, an easy smile on your features, “Thanks. I-”
As you stepped into the elevator, your words died. As you and the person who had held the elevator for you locked eyes, the both of you groaned.
“You have got to be kidding me,” You grumbled at the same time as Bucky Barnes.
The elevator doors shut, closing you into one of your worst nightmares—the two of you stuck together in a confined space. The air was heavy and the tension high, an uneasy silence settling in the air. Your chest tightened slightly and your body tensed up, almost as if you were waiting for something to happen. Deciding to be civil, you looked over at Bucky and offered him a cordial smile.
“Had a good day so far?” You asked, your voice strained.
Bucky just shook his head, “If you try to make small talk right now, I will throw you into the elevator shaft.”
Your smile dropped instantly, replaced by a grimace, “You are so violent, you should really talk to your therapist about all that pent up anger.”
“I hate you,” Bucky grumbled.
“Well that makes two of us.”
Almost as if on cue, the elevator comes to a grinding halt. The stop is so sudden that it jolts the box, making you gasp and grab onto the railing along the wall opposite Bucky.
“What the hell?” Bucky grits out, walking up and pushing the button to your floor repeatedly. When that doesn’t work, he pushes the emergency button only to have no response. That button must have been broken too.
Realizing suddenly your predicament, you brought a hand to the bridge of your nose, “This is not happening.”
Of all the times for the stupid elevator to break down, it chose now? When you were stuck inside with the one person in the world who hated you the most?
“Hello?” Bucky called out, banging on the side of the elevator.
“Yeah, ‘cause that’s gonna fix it,” You criticized, shaking your head at Bucky.
“Well what else are we supposed to do? The damn help button won’t work,” He fired back.
“I know you were born almost a century ago, but we have these things called cell phones and they do this magical thing where we can call for help.” You pulled out your phone and showed him the emergency call screen for show. Shaking his head, Bucky grumbled something about “insufferable” under his breath as you called for help.
While you were on the phone with emergency services, you explained your situation only to be told the fire department was caught up and wouldn’t be able to help for another hour.
“An hour?!” You exclaimed, already planning how you were going to beat the hell out of the management team for not fixing the stupid elevator.
“I’m sorry, that’s the best we can do,” The emergency operator apologized. Suddenly feeling guilty for you outburst on the poor worker just doing their job, you sighed.
“No, don’t be. It’s not your fault. Thanks for the help,” You amended, your tone softer this time. After hanging up, you slipped the phone into your pocket.
“Well, looks like we’re stuck here for a while so get-,” Your words halted abruptly when you looked up and saw Bucky opening the doors of the elevator by force, “What the hell are you doing?”
“Getting out of here,” He gritted back, shoving open the doors easily. You almost laughed when he was met with a solid brick wall. With a smug smile, you tilted your head at the soldier.
“You were saying?” You sweetly taunted. He shot you a death glare as he let go of the elevator doors, allowing them to shut back.
“It’s gotta be an easy fix,” Bucky mumbled to himself, walking back to the wall opposite you and beginning to bang on the side of the elevator.
You gasped as the elevator box began to tremble under his hits and you lurched forward, grabbing his bicep to stop his assault, “Stop! You’re gonna send us plummeting straight to the basement.”
“Well then maybe I’ll get lucky,” He grunted, shaking off your hold and going to hit it again. This time, real fear hit you.
“If we drop, you’d make it unscathed,” You began, and Bucky didn’t even look at you.
“Exactly, so what’s the-”
“I wouldn’t.” Your words are softer than even you’d expected, but it managed to halt Bucky’s assault on the side of the elevator. He glanced back at you, and in that moment you understood exactly what hung in the air unspoken. He was a super soldier, you were a normal human.
He couldn’t respond before the elevator gave a sick jolt.
You gasped, your knees nearly buckling from the fall. Before either of you could react, the elevator was careening down in a free-fall. You barely had time to scream when Bucky’s strong arm was around your waist and tugging you close, pressing you between the elevator wall and his body. He held you in a death grip, locking you against him and effectively saving your life.
Luckily, just as quickly as the fall had started, it stopped with a brain-shaking halt.
The silence that followed was thick, and you didn’t realize you were gripping Bucky’s shoulders until your mind finally was convinced you weren’t going to fall to your death. Coming to your senses, you felt your body pressed tightly up against Bucky’s and looked up to see him staring down at you, his brows drawn together and the hate in his eyes missing.
It was then that you realized you could no longer ignore the tension that was present whenever he was near you, because in this position it was overwhelming.
The moment was over as soon as it had begun. You were shoving him off almost as soon as he was letting you go. Breathless, you shoved Bucky’s shoulder, “What the hell, Barnes? You could have gotten us killed!”
“Then you would have failed your stupid mission,” Bucky pointed out, only making you angrier.
“You are infuriating,” You seethed, holding your hands out in exasperation, “Are you trying to get me to quit? Are you that insistent on shoving everyone else away?”
Bucky shook his head, his jaw held tight and his blue eyes on fire. He was staying silent, shutting down again like he often did. That only made you angrier, but a part of you yearned to get closer, to prove to him that you weren’t going to leave him.
Once again, as if on cue, the elevator began to move again with a jolt. You let out a breath of relief, your anger turning into exhaustion. Just as the elevator stopped, this time at your floor, you got off first, Bucky close behind.
“Fine, give me the cold shoulder,” You called out to him as you approached your door beside his. You fished out your keys and stopped, looking over at him as he ignored you and worked to open his door, “Do what you have to, but I’m not leaving you.”
Bucky froze, turning to look at you. Something in his gaze stirred your heart, but you kept your gaze strong and unflinching, “I’m seeing this mission through, whether you like it or not.”
Then you opened your door and went inside, leaving Barnes out in the hallway, still frozen with his keys in his door.
|||
That night, you couldn’t get to sleep.
You tried everything—sleeping supplements, reading, counting sheep. Nothing worked. Your mind refused to settle down, running over your elevator encounter with Bucky over and over again. The way he seemed to stall when you said you weren’t leaving him, the way he had grabbed you the instant the elevator dropped, the way you could still feel the burn of his arm around your waist.
The way being held by him had felt so infuriatingly right.
You covered your face with your pillow, willing yourself to forget what you just couldn’t seem to. You didn’t have to try long when the sound of something scraping on glass caught your attention. Slowly, you pulled the pillow off of your face and listened closely, the silence of your apartment settling over you like a blanket.
Maybe you had dreamt the noise. Maybe Bucky really was getting to you head and it was making you cr-
There it was again.
You sat up this time, your brows furrowed as you swiftly got out of bed. With silent feet, you crept to your window and pulled down one blind just enough for you to peer out into the dark night illuminated only by the haze of streetlights below.
Nothing. Nothing, nothing…there.
In the murky night, your strained eyes caught a glimpse of a rope hanging down off to the left of your window. Towards Bucky’s apartment. Looking a bit harder, you saw another, and then another. Then, now that you were listening, you began to hear the soft thuds of shoes against brick and iron and glass.
Someone was going to break through his window.
Suddenly vaulted into action, you jogged out of your room, grabbing the gun you kept on your nightstand as you did. You didn’t stop to consider the fact that you were only in a large t-shirt with no pants on. The only thing you could think about was Bucky sleeping next door while those intruders busted into his windows. In a matter of seconds, you were out into the hallway and pounding on Bucky’s door.
“Barnes, let me in,” You hissed, your voice low so as not to wake the neighbors. When there was no response, you pounded your fist against the door again. The sound mocked the repetitive thumping of your heart within your chest, its beats not only for the fight to come or the sudden burst of energy.
“Come on!” You pressed, in the middle of another round of knocking when the door flew open. On the other side, a very pissed and very shirtless Bucky stood, his muscular arm barring the doorway.
“This better be good,” Bucky grumbled, his voice closer to a low growl.
If this were any other time, you would have taken a moment to appreciate the sculpted plane of his body or even to notice the blanket strewn on the hardfloor indicating he didn’t sleep in a bed. You didn’t worry about any of that, though. Instead, you shoved past Bucky as soon as that door was opened, your gun raised.
“What the hell are you-”
Bucky was cut off by the shattering of his window.
You had four rounds fired off before the first two intruders could set their feet in the apartment. The blasts were muffled by the sound suppressor on your gun, but they found their targets with no less force or deadly precision.
“Shit,” Bucky cursed, the sound of his dog tags clinking as he sprinted over to the window just as the third and fourth intruders touched down. This time, these two made it down, the bullets lodging in the wall or their vests.
Then Bucky was on them, his metal arm catching one by the throat while he kicked the absolute shit out of the other, sending the intruder flying into the wall. The plaster cracked behind him and you shoved your gun into your waistband, no longer able to fire without risking hitting Bucky.
As Bucky incapacitated the intruder he had by the throat, you made sure the one he kicked stayed down. As the attacker staggered to his feet and rushed you, you dodged his clumsy hits easily and landed a crushing uppercut to the underside of his jaw. The sound of his teeth snapping together was sickening, but you were unfazed.
As the large attacker stumbled back, you rushed him and slid to the ground. You wrapped your legs around one of his and tugged, bringing the large invader crashing to the ground with a force that made the floor shudder. Moving quickly, you maneuvered yourself on top of the downed intruder and whipped out your gun, holding it directly at his head.
Suddenly, the apartment was silent except for the panting of both you and Bucky. You glanced up to see Bucky standing over the invader he was fighting, his bare chest heaving with breath. Probably more out of shock than exertion, you figured.
Turning your gaze down to the one pinned beneath you, you held the gun steady, “Who do you work for?”
The man smiled up at you, his teeth full of blood, “You’ll have to kill me,”
“Okay,” You said simply, moving the barrel of your gun to his shoulder and pulling the trigger.
The invader let out a strangled cry of pain at the nonfatal injury, his body writhing beneath you.
“Let’s try this again,” You gritted out, pushing the gun closer to his chin, “You tell me who you work for, or the next shot goes into your brain.”
“He’ll kill me for telling you,” The man nearly sobbed.
“Who’s he?” Bucky growled, staring down at the attacker mercilessly. When he didn’t respond, you clenched your jaw.
“Either die now for not telling us, or die later with a chance of making it away. Your choice.” Your words rang through the room as both you and Bucky stared down this terrified intruder. A pang of sympathy ran through you that was quickly smothered because in the end, he had come after Bucky.
And for some reason, that made your vision bleed red.
“Kingpin,” He finally cried, his eyes shut as his blood seeped into Bucky’s floor, “Kingpin sent us to silence the Winter Soldier.”
You had to fight to keep the shock from your features long enough to whip the butt of your gun across the blubbering man’s face and knock him out. Once he was silent beneath you, you stood slowly and looked over to Bucky. His jaw was clenched and his eyes holding that same haunted look they often did.
“I had a run-in with Kingpin as the Winter Soldier,” Bucky muttered, his eyes trained down on the floor where the four intruders were, “I managed to get past his defenses, tore through them like paper. What I found nearly sent him to prison for good if Hydra hadn't cut him a deal.”
The words broke over you, making your mind whir, “So if he’s coming after you now, after all this time,”
Bucky looks up at you, his blue eyes nearly knocking your bravado out, “Then that means he’s got something going on he wants to make sure no one finds out about.”
You took a moment to process the implications. Kingpin had something big going down, not that he didn’t always, but now it was more personal. Now, it involved Bucky, which meant it involved you.
“I’ll get this mess cleaned up,” Bucky sighed, running a hand through his short, dark hair, “Go back to your apartment.”
That was it? Not so much as a thank you?
You scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest, “That’s one way to thank someone who just saved your ass.”
“You didn’t save anything,” Bucky gritted out, taking a step closer to you in that intimidating way you found he often liked to, “If you hadn’t come by, I still would have woken up and taken those guys easily.”
“Are you kidding me?” You exclaimed, gesturing around to the mess, “I had two of those guys out before you were even fully awake, Barnes! Just admit I helped you,”
He was so close to you that you could barely reach out and you would be touching his bare skin. The temptation was strong, stronger than you’d like to admit. It was like he was a magnet and you a compass, and for the life of you, even when you wanted nothing more than to run away from him, you couldn’t stop yourself from being led right back into him.
“I said it before, and I’ll say it again,” Bucky muttered, his voice low and making your stomach take a sudden swirl. “I don’t need your help.”
His eyes darted down to your lips, and then lower before returning to your gaze. It was then that you became fully aware of your lack of pants. Your cheeks heated slightly and you felt your stomach go taut from his attention, but you clenched your jaw and held your place.
“Clearly, you do,” You echoed back to him, refusing to back down. After staring off at him for a few more moments, you let out a frustrated groan and stepped back, snapping the tension in the room as you shoved your way to the door.
“Why do I even bother with you?” You gritted, stepping over a body, “I got up in the middle of the night and risked my life to help you and I don’t get so much as a-”
“Thanks,”
Bucky’s voice was so quiet that you almost missed it, but you had heard it. You froze in your tracks, your body going still except for your speeding heart as you slowly turned back around.
“What?” You whispered, unbelieving what he had just said. Bucky shot you a pointed glare, but let out a long sigh, some of the anger draining from his face. He looked tired, so incredibly tired.
“Thank you,” He repeated, the words cutting straight through your anger, “I know I can be difficult, it’s just…I’m not…”
He struggled with the words, his voice no longer flooded with frustration or annoyance. You spent a moment peering at the soldier, taking in the fact that he indeed had slept on the floor and noting the dog tags that hung around his throat.
Bucky Barnes was haunted by his past. So haunted, you guessed, that he was shoving away everyone in his life to make sure nothing bad could happen again. You still were infuriated by him, but you couldn’t say that you hated him.
In fact, you couldn’t begin to think if you ever really did. Or if maybe that hate was just a cover for the growing attraction you felt towards him, for the…
Ridiculous, you scolded yourself.
“It’s okay,” You finally announced, your words softer than you intended them to be, “I get it.”
Somehow, you found yourself offering him a sad, soft smile that made the hard edges of his face soften.
“You’re a lone wolf, I get that.” Your words made his jaw twitch, “And I’m not gonna tell you how to heal. You already know that answer. So, when the time comes that you’re ready to not do all this alone anymore, I’ll be right next door.”
Something changed deep within Bucky’s gaze, something that would have made you stay if you didn’t turn and walk towards the door. As you did, you felt the thumping of your heart. Your words had not just been an offer of help for this Kingpin situation. No, they had been more. An offer of help for anything, and you hadn’t realized you had meant them until they had come out.
Now you were left wondering for the rest of the night when exactly you had stopped hating Bucky Barnes.
And why you had the suspicion that you never hated him at all.
|||
As the dawn broke the next morning, so did your common sense.
No matter how magnetizing Barnes was, you had to keep your distance unless your mission directly required you to get close. You didn’t know how deep your…not hatred…ran, but you weren’t willing to find out. It could compromise this mission, and most dangerous of all, it could compromise Bucky.
You had to keep your head in the game. So, the next week or so was packed with you spending the day actively avoiding Barnes in the same way you had purposely collided with him at first. During the nights, you poured over documents and case files concerning Kingpin. You tracked his movements, hunted down where his men crawled back to after their missions, watched his cover businesses with a close, keen eye.
Kingpin was an intimidating mobster and could rule his forces with an iron fist of fear, but he wasn’t necessarily the brightest businessman. He was good at covering his illegal tracks, but not great. That was why you were able to catch the whispers around the upcoming charity gala a local socialite was hosting.
Word was, Kingpin and his men would be at the gala to finish working out a business deal with an associate. The same business deal, you suspected, that had him lashing out at not just Bucky, but several other known adversaries to his empire across the whole of New York.
So if Kingpin would be there, so would you.
As you finished getting ready for the gala and stood in front of your mirror to make sure everything was perfect, your mind strayed to the super soldier next door. You hadn’t seen him in over a week, not since that night where you saved his life. Even now, his apartment was silent.
You let out a long sigh and adjusted the contours of your dress and felt for the weapons beneath it. The floor-length number was deceiving to anyone with a keen eye, exposing parts of you that would normally hide weapons. Your thigh on your dominant side was almost fully exposed with a slit, and your bodice provided no way to get to a weapon if it was stored there.
You were a professional, though. Where you hid your weapons, no one would see until it was too late.
As you made your way out of your apartment, being sure to take the stairs this time, and then climbed into the ride you had waiting for you outside, your mind played through a million different ways this night could go.
Best case would be you catching wind of whatever business had Kingpin so wound up with no altercations in the meantime. Worst case…well, let’s hope you didn’t have to use those weapons you so painstakingly hid.
After a drive that wasn’t long enough, you clambered out into the star-lit, diamond-encrusted evening. The event hall was elegant as you walked in, decked in lavender and silver and crawling with New York’s most elite. In a crowd like this, you knew it would not be hard to find a man as large as Kingpin.
The longer you spent canvasing the gala, the more your worst case scenario started to play out in your head. As you had feared, Kingpin wasn’t here, not that you could see. Odds were, he sent someone in his place to do the negotiating. Now you had to find some way of finding that-
You gasped as your shoulder bumped right into a firm chest. You had been so busy scanning the room that you hadn’t been looking where you were walking. A warm, calloused hand gripped onto your elbow to keep you stable, and the way the touch made your brain fog should have been an indicator of who this man was.
But you did not think of it until you glanced up, “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t…what are you doing here?”
As your gaze connected with Bucky Barnes, you saw the same flash of disbelief and then annoyance run through his crystal blue eyes.
“Are you serious, doll? You can’t even give me one night out without following me?” Bucky muttered lowly, his hand still around your elbow, holding you close.
Your chest skipped at that word, that nickname he had called you, but you ignored it and glared right back up at the man, “You know, and this may come as a shock to you, but not everything in my life revolves around following you,”
Bucky scoffed, tilting his head at you. Suddenly, you were fighting to overcome how stunning he was in the all black suit that he wore. His alluring gaze seemed to draw you in again, and you knew you had to get away from him.
“I wasn’t born yesterday, sweetheart.” Bucky assured, his tone like pure narcotics to your soul.
You let out a short laugh, “Trust me, I know.”
He shook his head, licking his bottom lip as he held your arm and started pulling you towards the exit, “It’s time for you to go.”
“Hey, you cannot just tell me what to do!” You muttered, pulling your arm from his grasp and coming to an abrupt halt. He gritted his jaw as he turned and looked down to you, but you beat him to the punch.
“If you’re here for the same reason as me, then Kingpin’s men are out here somewhere carrying out a business deal that could be huge. This could be our only chance to stop it.”
“Our?” Bucky repeated, and you stared at him indignantly.
“That’s what you caught from all of that?” You exclaimed, huffing out a breath, “Look, whatever is happening is big. If we don’t stop him, who will?”
“I said before, stay out of this. Go back to Langley and report your mission as a success, and leave me alone. These men are dangerous, don’t make this your fight.” Bucky’s words weren’t as angry as before, there was something in them, something almost desperate.
You held his gaze, taking a step closer, “Trust me, sweetheart, I’ve dealt with plenty of dangerous men.”
“Oh yeah?” Bucky asked, almost taunting you as he cocked his head at you.
Your heart was racing, your skin was on fire and he wasn’t even touching you. Maybe leaving was the best idea.
You caught something out of the side of your vision, and looked over towards the dance floor. There you saw one of Kingpin’s associates you’d been tracking all week step out onto the dance floor with a woman you’d never seen before. As he pulled her into a waltz, you knew immediately that this was a business dance, not pleasure.
“There, 11 o’clock,” You whispered, turning your gaze back to Bucky as his gaze flitted towards the direction you gaze. He nodded once.
“That’s them,” He agreed.
“Come on,” You urged, grabbing his hand and tugging him towards the dance floor.
“Woah, woah, I don’t dance,” Bucky protested, but let you pull him nonetheless. You cracked a half-smile as you looked back at Bucky, and you noticed the way something in his gaze shifted at the sight of your smile.
“Well tonight you do.”
As you pulled Bucky out into the slow dance alongside a few dozen other couples, you noticed the way his lips tipped up ever so slightly. The sight of that smile…it made your heart miss more than a few beats.
As the two of you joined the fray, Bucky tugged you into him so swiftly that you let out a gasp. Expertly, he guided one hand to the small of your back and grabbed your hand with the other. In a matter of moments, the two of you were dancing, and you looked back up at the soldier in wonder.
“I thought you said you don’t dance,” You mused. Bucky smiled, then turned his gaze to you.
“I don’t, doesn’t mean I can’t,” He informed.
In that moment, with your hand in his gloved metal one and him smiling down at you like that…it was enough to make you forget anything before this, before now, before him. The two of you danced, and for a moment both of you forgot why you’d joined the dance floor in the first place. Forgotten was business and missions and danger, the only thing left in the world was his hands on you as you danced.
You could hardly breathe as he led you around the dance floor, and you certainly couldn’t take your eyes off of his. You weren’t smiling anymore, but neither was he. You didn’t smile because you knew. In that moment, held in his arms and dancing like the two of you had been practicing this step your entire life, like you had been made to dance together, you knew.
You knew that no matter what unfolded in the days and weeks to come, whatever became of this mission, Bucky Barnes had ruined you. For no longer could you dance with anyone else. Not when you knew this, knew him.
He had ruined you in this moment, and for the first time in your life you understood why the Moon never left its orbit. The Moon was so enthralled with catching even a glimpse of the Sun that it was willing to bear the black of night if that’s what it took to bear the Sun’s rays.
Bucky Barnes had ruined you, and now you could never leave your orbit either.
“Doll, I-”
Whatever Bucky was going to say died as the two of you suddenly found yourselves dancing right beside Kingpin’s associate. That was the snap to reality that you needed, and you forced out1 the outrageous thoughts that had been plaguing you.
Thinking quickly, you pulled out of Bucky’s hold and stepped closer to him, wrapping your arms around his neck and resting your head on his shoulder. This position let you inconspicuously listen in to what it was that the associate was saying to his business partner, and Bucky quickly caught on as he brought his hands to your waist and held you close.
You’d like to say that eavesdropping was the only reason you did this, but you’d be lying. Being held by him set your skin on fire, as if you’d been touched by lightning and survived. You needed this, you craved this, with his hands on your waist and his breath on your neck. But you had to focus right now, you had to hear what the associate was saying.
You forced your brain to switch into operative mode, forcing yourself to focus only on the conversation beside you.
“-depending on how much your boss is willing to pay. Timeliness like that is going to be extra,” The woman spoke.
“Money is not an issue, trust me,” The associate assured.
“Well then,” The woman responded, sounding pleased, “1.5 for the weapons and an extra 1 for the time bump. Do we have a deal?”
There was a pause, a consideration. Your heart sped up more than it was already racing. Weapons. An arms deal that Kingpin would no doubt use to spread onto the streets, to put a tighter noose around the neighborhoods he already kept under his thumb. And over two million dollars just for weapons? This was the biggest deal you’d seen up close. This could plunge New York into a deeper chaos than it already was.
“An even 2 and we have a deal,” The associate managed out, his tone taut.
“Then I will see you next week. And your boss had better be there, or the deal’s off,” The woman spoke with finality. And then there was silence, nothing but the waltz and the normal clamor of the gala.
Pulling back, you turned your gaze up to Bucky, whose gaze burned down on you with a certain clarity to his blue eyes.
“Got it?” He mumbled. You nodded, your eyes wide with excitement.
Smoothly, Bucky led you right off of the dance floor, offering his arm to you. You took it, making sure the two of you were walking in the direction opposite the associate. When you were mixed enough in the crowd, you spoke quietly, your tone flooded with vigor.
“Sometime next week, two million for an arms deal,” You informed. Bucky let out a sharp breath, his gaze forward just like yours as the two of you walked.
“A trade that big…”
“I know,” You whispered in response, your heart thundering. You stopped walking, pulling Bucky to look at you, “I could figure out a day, time, and place. Then, together we could crash their party with an army of SWAT and CIA hiding out nearby. We could keep two mill worth of weapons off the streets and put away Kingpin for a while.”
Bucky turned his gaze from you, his jaw clenched. You furrowed your brows up at the man, you were so sure he would be all over this mission. So why did he have that look in his eye?
Without looking down at you, Bucky finally spoke, “Like I said, there’s no we. I’m taking you back to the apartment and that’s where you’re gonna stay until this is over.”
You flinched back, so struck by his sudden change in demeanor that a shot of pain went through your chest. How could he be so cold after what happened on that dance floor? You couldn’t have been the only one to feel that…
“I don’t understand,” You breathed, indignation rising in your chest, “Don’t you want to take out Kingpin?”
“I do,” Bucky responded, finally looking down to you with that cold, shut-off look in his gaze that you knew all too well, “But not with you. You’re going home.”
He let go of you and turned, walking towards the exit of the gala. Sputtering, you followed after him, storming behind him into the brisk night.
“Are you kidding me?” You exclaimed as he gave the valet his ticket and they ran off to grab his car, “What happened to working together? This is my mission, Bucky and I’m not just going to give up on it.”
Bucky turned on you, his gaze boiling with something that wasn’t quiet anger, but felt a lot like it, “I don’t want your help. I don’t need your help. Stay out of this one.”
You could see the valet bringing up the car and you knew that once we were inside, he would shut down. This was your last chance.
“Whether you want my help or not, you are getting it! It is my mission to keep you safe, Bucky and I’m not letting you do this alone.”
Bucky shook his head at you, muttering something about you being impossible as he caught his keys as the valet threw them to him. He sauntered up to the car, opening the door and gesturing for you to get in. Cheeks hot with anger, you stormed up and got in the car, adjusting your dress as he shut the door and walked around to the driver’s seat.
Just as you predicted, the ride back to the apartments was silent.
You knew what he was doing. He thought this was too dangerous, and he didn’t want you involved. That night in his apartment, you had seen how guarded he was to keep people from getting close. That dance, that had pushed the line and now he was not going to let you get into this mission. Frustration boiled up within you, and halfway through the drive, you finally exploded.
“This is bullshit!” You suddenly exclaimed, and you caught the way Bucky’s hands tightened on the steering wheel.
“We’re not doing this,” He muttered.
“Like hell we aren’t,” You fired back, turning to look at him even if he kept his eyes on the road, “I know why you’re banning me from this mission and I get it, I do. But-”
“You don’t know anything,” Bucky cut in, his voice low and almost menacing.
You laughed without humor, slowly losing your control, “You are impossible, impossible!”
Turning forward again, you raked your hands through your hair, “You are so difficult. One day you’re gonna need someone, and if you keep shoving people that care for you away, you’re gonna have no one!”
The car screeched to a sudden halt.
Your stomach dropped as you looked around the surprisingly quiet street, your heart thudding.
“What are you-”
“Get out.” Bucky gritted.
Your heart sank instantly. You looked over at him in astonishment, your eyes wide, “What?”
“Get. Out.” Bucky repeated, not even looking at you, “Walk home.”
“That’s like four miles from here, and I’m in heels!” You exclaimed. Bucky’s jaw tightened.
“You’re CIA, you’ll figure it out.”
Your heart slammed in your chest, and the words you had spit at him moments prior burned in your chest. You had crossed a line, and you knew it. You felt it, “Bucky, I’m sorry. I–”
“Get out of this car before I pull you out myself.” There was hurt in his eyes, and it made you want to die.
You had both said things to hurt the other, had both wounded each other.
As you stepped out of the car and into the night air, you realized that people could only be hurt by someone who held at least a part of them. And as you shut your door and Bucky peeled away into the night, you felt a piece of you go with him.
Swallowing thickly, you shook your head and pulled out your phone. You were already searching up a ride to take you to your apartment, but you walked as you did it. The cool night air was refreshing in a way, and you let out a long sigh, putting your phone down and looking around at the near-empty streets.
What had gone so wrong?
And so, you decided against calling a ride. Instead, you turned into a nearby, warm-looking bar and sat, drinking away your sorrows and working up the courage to make the long, lonely walk home.
|||
You were within a half-mile of your apartment, and you still hadn’t sorted through the storm in your mind.
All you knew was that this was more than a mission, and it had been for a long while.
“I gave you one job, and you couldn’t even accomplish it. One simple job.”
Your feet stalled, your head suddenly going quiet. You knew that voice. And, as you took one step closer to the alley that it poured out of and peered inside, what you saw confirmed it.
Kingpin.
In your muddled haze of a walk, you’d forgotten that one of Kingpin’s cover businesses was on the way back to your apartment. Now here you were, just around the corner of the mobster himself. Your eyes took in his massive frame hovering over a quivering man. A man that looked awfully familiar…
You managed to stifle your gasp as you recognized it as the man that gave Kingpin up to you and Bucky when he’d broken into Bucky’s apartment.
“I’m s-sorry boss, there was two of ‘em. I was lucky to make it out alive,” The man stammered. Kingpin hummed.
“You’re right, that is lucky,” He grabbed the man by his collar and hoisted him off of his feet, easily holding him in mid-air, “So tell me, what exactly did you give up to them to save yourself?”
“N-nothing boss! I would never give you or the operation up, never! I’m loyal,” The man pleaded.
You should go. You should hurry past and keep walking. But you just couldn’t, not when the man himself was standing right there and he might give up information on the arms deal you’d caught wind of.
Kingpin set the man back onto his feet and smoothed out the man’s collar, “I believe you.”
The man nearly sobbed, “Thank you boss, thank you.”
“But just an insurance policy,” Kingpin said, then motioned with one hand into the darkness of the alley. Two burly guards stepped forward, armed to the teeth.
“Kill him,” Kingpin spoke smoothly, then stepped back and held his hands together as the man begged and pleaded. Your heart thundered in your chest as the gunshot from one of the guards into the man rang through you, making you flinch slightly.
When the job was done, Kingpin walked up to his guards, “Filch reported back from the gala. Said he got the deal moved up to next Saturday. Make sure the streets stay quiet. We can’t let it get out.”
“Sure thing, boss,” The guard nodded.
Next Saturday, that gave you eight days. A smile tugged onto your lips and you were just about to move past the alley when a set of burly, vile hands closed around your shoulders.
“Well look what we’ve got here, a little birdie listening in.” The man purred, and your stomach sank to the floor.
You had to get away, and you had to do it now. You thrashed against the man’s hold, slipping your hand towards where you’d hidden a small but lethal knife. Kingpin couldn’t know that you’d heard. He couldn’t know. Your hand was inches from the knife when another one of Kingpin’s men came around the corner and grabbed your wrists in a bruising grip, yanking them in front of you.
“Hello there, pretty bird,” He greeted, and together the two men began to drag you into the alley. Sudden, blinding panic slammed into you and you knew instantly what you had to do.
If you pulled a weapon and beat the shit out of these guys like you knew you could, Kingpin would know you’d heard him and were someone to be worried about. Your best chance at making it out of this not only alive, but with the deal still set for next Saturday, you had to play dumb. You had to be a regular citizen, an innocent bystander scared of getting mugged.
And so you did.
You turned your anger into fear that wasn’t totally falsified, and you thrashed in the men’s grips.
“Please, let me go!” You begged, “You can take my money, my wallet, anything you want! Please!”
They’d gotten you into the alley by now, and darkness wrapped around you as Kingpin himself heard your cries. He paused, looking back at you and tilting his head curiously. Your pulse thundered so fast that you thought you’d faint.
“What’s going on here?” Kingpin asked, slowly walking up to you, towering over you even when he was a few feet away.
“Caught this pretty lady walking by, looking like she wanted to come say hello,” One of the men presented.
The smell of the alley nearly made you gag, the fabric of your dress already soiled at the bottom from the puddles of unknown liquid. Real fear was pulsing through you, and you let it. You shoved down the instincts drilled into you from your time in the CIA and let yourself be a citizen, a bystander in the wrong place at the wrong time.
“Please, you can have my jewelry, my money, anything you want,” You insisted, your eyes filling with tears that weren’t entirely fake.
“We’re not muggers,” Kingpin responded, his tone curious as he took you in, “What are you doing out here all alone, little bird?”
“My Uber canceled on me and I had to walk home from my party, please I don’t know what’s going on!” You trembled out.
Kingpin studied you closely, then tilted his head and said to the men holding you, “Search her,”
Panic was constricting your chest, and you shivered as the men began patting you down. You had to clench your firsts to keep from breaking one of their noses when one stayed a little longer than necessary on your breasts. There was a small breath of relief when they both stood back, having found none of your hidden weapons.
“She’s clean.”
Kingpin cracked a half smile and reached forward. You flinched back as much as the men holding you would allow, but that wasn’t enough. He grabbed ahold of one of your fists, raising it up to inspect. He looked back up at you, his gaze amused.
“You’re angry,” Kingpin mused, a smile ticking onto his lips, “You’ve got more fight in you then you’re letting on.”
“Well ladies with fight who are dragged into alleyways don’t usually last long, do they?” You managed out, your eyes daring to meet his. To your surprise, he laughed.
“Let her go, boys. We’ve terrified her enough.”
You almost sobbed in relief when the men holding you let go. It worked. He was letting you go, he didn’t know. He didn’t-
That’s when you made your first and only mistake. You let your eyes travel the alley for a moment. But that moment, no matter how short, was enough. You saw the dead body of the man who had just been shot.
And Kingpin knew it.
He glanced back towards the body, then slowly back to you.
“Oh little bird, why’d you have to go and do that? I was really starting to like you,” He sighed.
Terror like you’d never known gripped you suddenly. Dread, real and cold pierced into your belly. You began to shake your head.
“No, no please I won’t tell anyone. I didn’t see anything. I didn’t-”
His massive hand gripped your jaw, cutting you off. You trembled terribly as he held your jaw and just peered at you, seeming to test you.
Finally, finally, he said, “I believe you.”
You sighed, but barely had a moment to breathe when he repeated those damned words from before, “But just as an insurance policy,”
He stepped back, letting you go and then gesturing to his men.
“Rough her up. Don’t kill her, just show her what’s gonna happen if she does decide to tell,” Kingpin stepped back into the dark alley, a smile starting on his lips, “Which I don’t think she will. Good night, little bird.”
“Wait,” You shook, glanced around at his goons who now surrounded you, “Wait, please,”
You had taken beatings before, you could do this. You could do this.
“Boss’s orders,” One shrugged, then crashed his fist into your jaw.
Then the onslaught began, and you let it happen. You let them beat you, let them kick you so hard you thought ribs cracked, let them bust your lip and bruise your cheek. You could have them all dead in moments, but you let it happen. You’d made it this far without blowing the mission to hell, you couldn’t give yourself away now.
So you stayed there on the alley floor, and you took it.
|||
By the time you finally made it to your apartment and stumbled up the stairs, you could barely stand.
Your head was spinning as you struggled to get your keys into the door. By the time you finally did, you shouldered your way in and didn’t even bother closing the door. You could barely think, barely see, barely feel anything besides the pain.
You’d taken worse beatings, sure, but it didn’t make this one hurt any less. Your breathing was labored as each breath made shooting pain pierce through your rib cage. Your dress was ripped and bloody and covered in filth from the alley floor. All you could taste was blood from the lip one of the men had split, and you were sure that if anyone were to see you, you’d look more like a walking corpse than anything else.
You stumbled over to your kitchen bar, gripping onto the surface for stability as you dropped your phone and clutch onto it. Your legs trembled from the effort of standing, and you didn’t even bother to switch the light on considering that would require more walking. All you wanted was to gather your strength, make it to your bathroom, and get all of this blood off of you.
Then you’d sleep for as long as your body would let you.
At least, that was the plan until there was a knock on your slightly open door.
You didn’t even have the strength to speak as the person pushed open the door and walked a few steps into your dark, silent apartment.
“Y/N, I know I’m probably the last person you want to talk to right now, but…” Bucky paused, and the sound of his voice nearly made you sob. More than anything, more than even a bath or sleep, you wanted him to hold you. You were too tired to question the impulse.
Bucky sighed, and you could practically hear the indecision in his tone, “I turned around as soon as I forced you out, but I couldn’t find you. I’ve been pacing the entire night waiting for you to come back. I overreacted and…and I’m sorry.”
He’d gone back for you. He’d looked for you.
Your heart burned, and tears you didn’t fight worsened your already blurry vision.
You wanted to turn and run to him, you wanted to hold him and tell him that it was alright, that you were sorry too. But you couldn’t. If you let go of this counter, you’d collapse, and you knew that if you hit this floor, you weren’t getting back up tonight.
“You were just trying to help me, and I have such a hard time taking help and an even harder time letting people in and,” Bucky stopped with a sigh, cutting off his rant, “I’m stumbling through this, could you please just turn around and say something?”
If you weren’t on the brink of passing out, you’d laugh.
Bucky let out a frustrated huff, “I’m apologizing here, are you even listening?”
You opened your mouth to speak, but blood came out instead and you let out a short cough.
“Fine,” Bucky gritted, clearly trying to hold back his emotion, “I’ll just…leave you be.”
Panic disrupted your pain and you managed to brace your weight with one hand on the counter and turn towards where Bucky was already walking towards your door. He couldn’t leave. You needed him.
“Bucky,” You strangled out, your voice exhausted, “W-wait,”
Bucky froze, his gaze turning back to you with his brows furrowed. That’s when the light of the hallway broke upon you, and his eyes widened in horror as he saw the blood and dirt and bruises.
You heard him say your name like a vow, but then the world began to spin and you were collapsing.
You barely felt the thud of the floor as you slammed against it, your body bloody and broken and giving up for the night. You heard the pounding of footsteps, felt the floor tremble as Bucky slid to his knees beside you. His hands were so gentle, so heart-breakingly gentle, as he lightly touched your bruised cheek. You watched through a blurred gaze as he kneeled over you, his jaw tight and his eyes wild.
“You’re okay, doll, I got you. I got you,” Bucky promised, ever so tenderly pulling your broken body into his lap. He cradled your head with his hand, his eyes sweeping over you to take in the extent of your injuries.
“Shit,” He swore, shaking his head, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,”
“Not your fault,” You managed, a tear slipping down your cheek.
Bucky shook his head, his jaw clenched so tight that you saw his muscles ticking. His breaths were shallow as he caressed a finger down your cheek before gathering you in his arms as gently as he could. You groaned in pain as he stood, holding you close to himself with ease. But even despite the pain, he was holding you, and that was something you never thought you’d feel again.
“I know baby, I know,” He whispered, his words soothing you through the pain. He carried you out of your apartment, careful to close the door before carrying you into his place. You felt your consciousness slipping now that you were safe. You actually had never felt safer than when you were here, in his arms.
Bucky set you down on his counter, the cool material taking the edge off of the aching of your body. Before he could clean you up or bandage anything, Bucky stood close to you, his hand staying on your cheek. You leaned into it, knowing you wouldn’t have if you weren’t half-asleep right now.
“Doll, I need you to look at me,” Bucky urged, a cold, ferocious tone to his voice that you didn’t think was for you. You managed to pry your eyes open and clash your gaze with his. In it was a cold fury, “Who did this to you?”
“Kingpin’s men,” You mumbled, and Bucky stiffened, “I caught…word of the deal, but he…he saw me. Only way to…to not blow it was to…to-”
“Play the bystander,” Bucky finished for you, and you nodded. Bucky shook his head, “You stupid, brave girl.”
You managed a smile, but the movement pulled at the split in your lip and made you wince.
“You can sleep now, doll. I’ve got you,” Bucky whispered. You nodded, letting your eyes flutter closed. You felt his hand caress your cheek, his fingers lingering on your skin.
Then, in the near dark of sleep, Bucky let out a defeated sigh.
“Oh darling,” He sighed, then there was a press of a kiss to your brow and whispered words against your skin, “How the hell am I supposed to let you go when this is all over?”
|||
“Bucky?”
Your voice rang through Bucky’s apartment, amusement heavy in your tone. He hummed in response, his back to you as he slaved away at his small stove.
Before you already sat a fresh coffee, eggs, toast, and fruit. You couldn’t help but smile. The movement pulled at your healing lip, but it didn’t hurt anymore.
“It’s been two days. You don’t have to keep apologizing,” You called out. Bucky turned around to you, holding a pan in one hand.
“I’m just making breakfast,” He tried, but you just raised an eyebrow at him. With a sigh, Bucky set down the pan, and walked over to the counter, settling his hands down on the other side of where you sat.
“Y/N, you didn’t see what I did that night,” Bucky mumbled, not meeting your gaze, “If you could have seen how you looked, all that blood…”
Your heart strung in your chest. You slept nearly an entire day after the incident, and then spent the next day being fussed over by Bucky. You had a few bruised ribs and some nasty shiners, but nothing serious luckily. In all that time, the two of you had avoided the subject of that night besides the both of you apologizing to the other profusely.
“Buck, listen to me,” You whispered, his pained gaze finally rising to yours, “That was a heated night, we both did and said things we didn’t mean. We apologized for that, it’s behind us. But what happened to me in that alley,”
You paused hesitating only a moment before you threw caution to the wind and reached across the counter, grabbing his hand. His metal hand. His eyes widened a fraction and something changed in his gaze, something that made your heart miss a step.
“What happened to me in that alley was not your fault. That one was all me,” You insisted. Bucky squeezed your hand, the cool metal soothing your skin.
“But if I had just kept you in the car, if I hadn’t overreacted like that-”
“Then we wouldn’t know when the deal was going down,” You reasoned, “And if I were you, I would have kicked me out of the car too.”
Bucky let out a low laugh, shaking his head. His thumb ran across your skin absentmindedly, making your mind muddle, “Fine.”
You raised your eyebrows, a smile dancing on your lips “So does that mean we can move on? Not that I mind you making me breakfast.”
“Don’t push your luck, doll,” Bucky warned, a smile tugging at his lips. Letting go of your hand, he walked around the counter and into his living room, walking over to his coffee table where two files sat. You swiveled around on the barstool, watching him curiously.
As if he felt your gaze, Bucky spoke again, “While you were getting your beauty sleep in, I found where the arms deal is going down. So, if we’re gonna crash that party, we better start planning.”
A thrill went through you, and you sat up straighter. You watched as he turned and walked back to you with the files in his hand. Sure enough, he handed you one of them. You opened the front, seeing the page filled with information on Kingpin, his empire, and the arms deal. You looked up at Bucky with wide, bright eyes.
“We?” You taunted. Bucky rolled his eyes, grabbing the front of your file.
“I can still take this back,” He warned. You smiled, pulling it back towards you and out of his grasp. His grumpy demeanor didn’t scare you, nor did it frustrate you like it did before.
“Too late,” You said sweetly, looking up at him as he stood before your seated frame. He shook his head at you, a half smile he tried to hide on his lips as he stepped back.
“Alright CIA,” Bucky announced, flipping open his file, “Show me what you got.”
|||
It was Saturday night, and the air was thick with anticipation.
You and Bucky sat in his car, staking out the trainyard where the arms deal was set to be going down. The walkie set before you crackled to life.
“How’s it looking?” Sam Wilson asked. You smiled at the sound of his voice, happy to have him here. Once you briefed him on what was happening, he just had to have a piece of it.
“Nothing so far,” You replied, your eyes sweeping across the darkened yard packed with parked trains, “We’ve still got some time, though.”
“I have RedWing watching from the skies, so I’ll keep you posted,” Sam informed.
“I hate that damn thing,” Bucky grumbled. You pressed your lips together to keep from laughing.
“What was that?” Sam asked.
“Nothing,” You answered, putting your hand over Bucky’s mouth just as he’s about to repeat his statement, “Tell RedWing we said thank you!”
As soon as the radio went quiet, Bucky pulled off your hand, staring at you in indignation.
“You are getting too comfortable with me,” He gritted. You shrugged, trying not to look too smug.
“Someone’s gotta keep you in line,” You quipped. Bucky was grumbling under his breath about something, and you were just about to ask him about it when something caught your eye in the distance. You sat up, pointing towards the left side of the yard.
“There,” You announced, your tone serious, “You see it?”
Bucky leaned forward, following the direction you were pointing. He nodded, reaching forward and grabbing the walkie.
“Sam, two SUVs rolling in. You got ‘em?”
“I see them,” Sam responded, his voice all business, “Looks like it's the dealers. The weapons are probably stashed in one of the train cars somewhere. I’ll run a scan, you guys get out there.”
“Will do, comms going in,” Bucky replied.
The two of you slipped the comm links into your ears, checking your respective guns before exiting the car. You both jogged towards the first train car parked in the massive yard, getting cover as fast as possible.
“Be advised, the dealers have associates fanning out through the trainyard.” Sam’s voice crackled through the comm.
“Copy,” You spoke softly, your back pressed against the train, “We’ll take care of it.”
Looking over to Bucky, you nodded once at him before he led the way, gun raised as he cleared the corner. The two of you worked systematically through the yard. Sweeping out slowly in search of the associates. This place was a maze, making it ideal for deals like this. If you wanted a chance at taking the op down, you had to get these guards out.
You and Bucky paused at a break in the train, and this time you led as you inched forward and checked the corner. Seeing a guard standing watch at the corner, you pulled back and looked at Bucky. Without even having to say a word, you and Bucky worked together as if you’d been doing it for years.
You crouched down, holstering your gun and slipping out a knife. You took a beat to breathe before you slid forward, around the corner. The noise made the guard swivel her head, but she made the mistake of not looking down. With the deadly sharp knife, you made it to her feet before she noticed you.
Then, you whistled. A quiet, simple tone. With furrowed brows, she looked down to see you, crouched by her feet with a knife. Her brows rose and she opened her mouth to alert someone, but Bucky was on her, his hand around her mouth. That’s when you struck, slicing the tendon at the back of her heel.
Bucky’s hand muffled her scream as she dropped, and you stood in response, landing a killer blow across her temple and knocking her out. When the scuffle was over, the trainyard was silent. With a breathless smile, you looked up to Bucky.
“We make a pretty good team,” You whispered. He shot you a pointed look.
“I don’t do teams.”
You followed him as walked past the downed guard, a smirk tugging at your lips, “That’s right. You’re a lone wolf.”
Bucky stopped in his gait, nearly making you run into him. He turned and shot a glare at you, one that let you know you were getting under his skin. You held your hands up, showing him you were backing off the subject. He shook his head at you and kept walking.
“You do make a good team,” Sam intervened, making you smile triumphantly.
“Sam, I swear-” Bucky began, but you darted up, covering his mouth with your hand to silence him. He saw the guard rounding the corner a second after you did. Luckily, the guard hadn’t seen you.
Not yet, at least.
Thinking quickly, Bucky grabbed you by the waist and hoisted you up into the opening of a nearby, darkened train car. You landed inside silently and turned, waiting for Bucky who jumped in a second later. Swiveling his gaze around, he noticed the same problem you did.
The car was full of weapons. The weapons.
Not only did this endanger the both of you should the deal start soon, it also left little room for you to hide. Bucky solved that issue swiftly as he turned and urged you against a stack of explosives, his body pressed against yours instantly, caging you into the darkness and making sure the two of you were invisible.
Or, you realized with a start, making sure you were invisible.
You could see just far enough to look up and see Bucky peering down at you. His body was against yours, and his face was so near to yours that you could move half an inch and your lips would be touching. His pine and whiskey scent washed over you, intoxicating you, making you forget for a moment where you were.
Bucky seemed to do the same as his hand moved from beside your hand and he swept a thumb against your cheek. Lightning scattered across your skin where he touched, and you nearly forgot how to breathe.
You wanted to kiss him. You needed to kiss him.
Bucky’s eyes were darting between your lips and gaze, and your heart thundered in your chest. You were sure he could feel it with your bodies pressed so tightly together, and the uptick of the edge of his lips told you he did. Your lips itched in anticipation, burning even as they were kept apart from his.
Bucky’s hand moved from your cheek down to rest against your throat, just as it did that day in your kitchen all those months ago. You knew that he did it to get a better feel of your pulse, and your cheeks heated in response. His lips were nearly touching yours and his hand was on your neck and you thought you might faint.
He was totally in control of you, and he knew it.
With a half-smirk that made your knees nearly buckle he whispered, “Do I always make you this nervous?”
You wanted to banter back, to shoot a petty insult at him, but you couldn’t think of anything but his lips on yours. You wanted it so badly, and you could tell Bucky did too because the hand that wasn’t on your throat was clenched tightly, as if he was restraining himself. You nudged your chin up a fraction, stopping just short of his lips, leaving the decision up to him. Bucky moved, and when his lips were almost touching yours-
“I found the weapons,” Sam’s voice poured out of RedWing, who sat hovering right in front of you and Bucky.
You and Bucky jolted apart, the coast clear from the guard and the both of you coughing or clearing your throat.
“What?” Sam asked, his tone taunting, “Did I interrupt something?”
Bucky lunged for RedWing, who turned and flew away just in time. You couldn’t help but smile, struggling to hold in your laughter as Bucky turned and shook his head, clearly wound up. When he saw the look on his face he pointed a finger in your direction.
“Not a word,” He commanded.
“Yes sir,” You teased, shoving his shoulder lightly as you passed him to inspect the weapons. What you missed as you peered into the weapons crates was the way Bucky smiled at you as you passed, a real smile unlike any of the one’s he’d given since the 40’s.
“Look at all this,” You breathed, inspecting box after box of weapons of all sorts.
“And there’s at least six more cars just like it,” Sam informed over the comm. You shook your head, picking up a rather nasty looking bomb.
“We better get a move on, Kingpin’s bound to be here at any moment.” Your words caught Bucky’s attention and he nodded, walking towards the opening of the train car and hopping out. Wordlessly, you followed. As you jumped out of the car, Bucky grabbed you by the hips and slowed down your descent, setting you safely on the ground. His hands burned on your waist, and that tension from before returned in full force.
“I had that, you know,” You informed, raising a brow at him. He just smirked.
“I know.”
Then let you go and walk away, finally letting you take in a breath. As you followed him, you shook your head.
This was going to be a long night.
|||
It took twenty more minutes for you and Bucky to clear out the guards without any of them reporting back a disturbance.
And, right on time, Kingpin and his men showed up
You watched as the massive, hulking man sauntered up to the center of the trainyard where the dealers, led by the woman from the gala, stood waiting. You stood pressed against a train nearby with Bucky against the one across from you. Overhead, Sam was waiting for your signal to move in.
It would be your job to make sure the SWAT team rolling up outside had enough time to infiltrate and secure the weapons that they could. In the meantime, you, Bucky, and Sam would ambush the deal, taking out as many operatives as you could and securing Kingpin and the Dealer.
But right now, your mind wasn’t on the plan. No, you were stuck staring at the goons who waltzed up with Kingpin. You recognized three of them as the men who pummeled you that night after the gala. Noticing your clenched jaw, Bucky followed your gaze to the men. Understanding broke over him and you glanced over to see a certain fury flood his gaze. He looked back to you, his gaze clashing with yours.
“Which ones?” Was all he whispered, low enough so he couldn’t be heard by anyone except for the comm link. You heard the edge in his voice, and maybe it was wrong, but you loved it.
“The two on his right and second to the left.”
Bucky nodded, staring down the three men. He looked back to you, “You want them?”
A smile ghosted your lips. You could see the restraint in the way his shoulders were held tensely and the whitening of his knuckles on his gun. He wanted them, but he wanted you to have the choice first.
And you fell in love, right there. It began with the dance, but it was done now. There was no going back.
“Share?” You offered, and Bucky’s lips tipped up in a smile.
The two of you turned your attention back to the deal, straining enough to hear the conversation flowing from Kingpin and the Dealer who met in the middle.
“I’m not seeing my weapons,” Kingpin noted, his hands clasped before him. The woman smiled.
“The money first. Then you’ll get your weapons.”
Your hands tightened around your gun, waiting for Kingpin’s next move. He surveyed the Dealer before nodding, turning back to his man and motioning. That was it, this was your chance.
“Now,” You whispered, and instantly the sound of bullets from somewhere to the right blasted through the air.
Sam’s distraction.
The Dealer and Kingpin snapped their gazes towards the sound.
“What the hell-”
That’s when you and Bucky swept in, guns raised and bullets flying before the group knew what was happening. Chaos broke out, but every time someone strayed from the center to flee into the trains, Sam was there to guide them back.
The scene was a flurry of bullets and knives, of yelling and screams, but in the end it was you and Bucky who were left standing amongst the group of downed guards. Of course, there were a few left standing besides Kingpin and the Dealer, one of which happened to be one of the men who beat the shit out of you after the gala.
You did not miss how one of the other men who’d beat you wasn’t just unconscious nearby, but his neck was twisted at a wrong angle with Bucky standing nearby. The last of three was lying somewhere in the mess, shot and bleeding out.
Silence settled over the scene as Sam slammed down on the top of one of the train cars, gun raised. Bucky stood by the Dealer, and you by Kingpin. The two criminals stood silently, their hands raised in submission.
“Here’s what’s gonna happen,” You announced, keeping your gun pointed at Kingpin. He snapped his gaze to you, and surprise flickered through it followed by a sort of…admiration that made your skin crawl, “A SWAT team is closing in on the weapons now, so the two of you are going to call off anyone else you have stationed and come with us, without a fight preferably.”
“Little bird,” Kingpin greeted, making your pulse spike. You didn’t want to look at him, but you did anyway, and you hated the way you shook as you did, “It’s not often I’m surprised, but I gotta say, you’ve got me speechless here.”
You gritted your teeth, but it was Bucky who called out “Clearly not speechless enough,”
Kingpin laughed, seeming almost at ease. He started to lower his hands and you took a step closer, your gun held strong before you.
“Keep your hands where I can see them!” You ordered.
“Okay, okay,” Kingpin complied, raising his hands up, “But I just want to say, you really shoulda thought this out more.”
You furrowed your brows, “Wh-”
You couldn’t even get the words out when three of the nearby train car doors slid open, and guards poured out. Your heart shot into your throat, and you didn’t even have the chance to shoot when twenty guns were pointed at you and twenty more at Bucky. You shot a nervous glance towards Bucky, who shared the same look.
“Sam, go,” You whispered, and he flew off without another word. He needed to get the SWAT team in here now, or you and Bucky wouldn’t make it long. On the bidding of Kingpin’s army, you and Bucky set your guns down slowly.
“Alright,” Kingpin announced, sighing as if this were just another Saturday night, “Now here’s what’s really gonna happen.”
He walked up to you, and off to the side you saw Bucky immediately lunge forward towards him. He couldn’t make it far before Kingpin pulled out a gun of his own and pointed it at your head.
Bucky froze.
“Leave her alone,” Bucky ordered, his voice dark and menacing.
“Now it’s getting fun,” Kingpin mused, ignoring Bucky completely and stepping closer to you. You clenched your fists to hide the way they shook.
“You’re gonna hop up to this train car here and get my weapons out, make sure they’re what I wanted. Then, you’re gonna call off the SWAT team, and we’re gonna walk out of here,” Kingpin said simply.
“Not happening,” You gritted out.
“Funny, I don’t remember giving you a choice,” Kingpin sighed before grabbing your arm and looking to the dealer, “Which one has the weapons?”
She smirked, pointed at the train car nearby Bucky. It was torture to be dragged past him and not be able to touch him. Not for lack of trying, either. As you went by, he made a break for you, shouting your name. It took eight men to restrain him.
Eight men, that’s how many it took to hold him steady.
And, you figured he was holding back since there was a gun to your head.
“Oh, and package the soldier up. I want to have a few…words with him later.” Kingpin ordered, and panic blinded you. You reared back helplessly, struggling against his iron grip as you had to watch the men try to subdue Bucky and get him into handcuffs.
Your panicked gaze met his, and all you could do was pray Sam was close with the SWAT team. You couldn’t rely on that, though. Kingpin was going to kill you and then Bucky.
You could die, so long as Bucky didn’t.
A plan began to spin in your head as Kingpin shoved you up into the train car.
“Now, grab a gun from in there and show it to me,” Kingpin ordered, but then gave you a knowing smile, “And don’t try anything, or I’ll have a bullet in your boyfriend’s head.”
“On our way!” Sam called through the comm, but you were running out of time. The men were already hauling away Bucky, and you had to act fast.
Turning into the dark train car full of weapons, you tried to lift a box and pretended to fail. Turning to look down at Kingpin, who still stood on the ground, you gritted, “I can’t get it. It’s too heavy.”
Maybe it was his built-in trust of you from your encounter that night after the gala, or maybe it was because he thought you were under too much emotional duress, but he believed you.
He bought it, and he hauled himself into the train car for everyone to see.
“You better not be-”
Before he could speak again or anyone could react, you’d pulled the bomb you picked earlier off of your belt and pulled the pick. Gasps and shouts rang out through the yard as you held the live explosive in your hand and made sure you stood between Kingpin and the exit of the train car.
“Y/N NO!” Bucky shouted, his voice cracking. With a bare pull of his arms, the cuffs on his wrists snapped and he made a move for you.
A handful of guns were pressed into Bucky’s head, stopping him cold. In response, you held the motion-induced explosive tighter and pushed it further towards Kingpin, who had backed as far as he could against a stack of crates. Terror was clear across his face, which brought a sick sort of delight.
“You shoot him, and I drop it,” You announced, and once again the yard plunged into silence.
Anyone who could see the situation knew you had the upper hand. If anyone killed you, the bomb would hit the ground and kill Kingpin. If Kingpin tried anything on you, you’d drop the bomb and kill the both of you. You were locked in a stalemate, and now you were going to win.
“Now, put your guns down.” Your voice rang through the trainyard, but no one acted. You lifted your brows and nodded, turning your head towards Kingpin. Panic flared in his eyes and he shouted, “GUNS DOWN! Put your damn guns down!”
You turned your head and watched as everyone did as they were told. Your eyes snagged on Bucky, who had a desperate look on his face. He shook his head, but you ignored his silent pleas.
“You, the Dealer and all your forces are going to stand down. You’re going to wait patiently for SWAT to get here,” You lifted your chin, “Or I’ll drop this and we both go.”
“You wouldn’t,” Kingpin stuttered.
“You really want to call my bluff? Go ahead, end your criminal empire in one moment of stupidity,” You dared.
Kingpin took a moment to survey your gaze before he shook his head, “You’re crazy.”
You didn’t miss a beat.
“The things you do for love.”
That’s when you heard the rustling of gear and looked over to see the SWAT team storming in, guns raised and shouting at the Dealer and all of the assorted criminals throughout the yard. Taking in a trembling breath, you looked back at Kingpin.
“Game over, little bird,” You lifted your chin, and Kingpin’s eyes flared.
“This isn’t over,” He assured.
“Sure it isn’t,” You replied easily. Well, as easily as you could with a live bomb in your grasp.
You heard the clanging of the train car and looked over to see Bucky inside, his eyes deadly and his jaw clenched tightly as he grabbed Kingpin.
“Out,” Bucky growled, throwing him to the ground outside. Officers were on him instantly, but Bucky wasn’t paying attention, instead, he was on you.
“Bucky, stay-” You warned with a trembling voice, stepping back to keep the bomb from him. Bucky wasn’t listening to you, though, He cut you off and cupped your cheeks.
“What the hell were you thinking? You could have died!” Bucky nearly shouted, but you didn’t miss the way his voice shook.
“He was going to take you, and I couldn’t let him do that,” You whispered, tears gathering in your eyes.
“So you pulled a bomb on him?” Bucky pushed. A tear slipped down your cheek and Bucky wiped it away, shaking his head at you, “Don’t ever do that again, don’t ever risk your life like that for me again.”
“No promises.” Your voice was trembling badly, and your hand was clenched so tightly around the bomb that your fingers hurt, “Bucky, I’m scared.”
You heard Sam call for a bomb squad in the distance, but you didn’t tear your gaze from Bucky. He pressed his forehead to yours, “I know, baby. But you’re gonna be alright.”
“What if I drop it?” You whispered, only allowing your fear to be heard and seen from Bucky.
“You’re not gonna drop it,” Bucky assured, reaching forward and holding the explosive over your hand.
Buck, don’t-”
He held fast, closing both of his hands around yours and the bomb, “You’re gonna be okay. I’ve got you.”
“Sam, how long on that bomb squad?” You called out, another rogue tear burning down your cheek.
“They should be here any minute.” Sam’s reply made the tension in your chest ease slightly, and as if on command, the bomb squad came running up to the train car.
Bucky’s hands were solid around yours, and his gaze was unflinching and unafraid. He had you. That thought made your heart rate slow. He had you, he had you.
“So what do you have here?” A lady asked, jogging up and hopping into the train car, looking down at the explosive. She hummed, nodding before reaching into her kit. You looked down to watch her work, new fear ripping through you.
“No, just look at me,” Bucky ordered, making your gaze snap up to his. You nodded, doing your best to hold his gaze as the woman worked on the bomb.
“You’ve got pretty eyes,” You murmured, the fear making your inhibitions lowered, “I don’t think I ever told you that.”
Bucky’s lips edged up into a smile, “Well, I figured you thought so considering how fast your heart was beating in that train car a few minutes ago. Or were you thinking about something other than my eyes?”
His charm worked perfectly, and you couldn’t help but laugh.
“Look at us,” You mused, glancing down at the bomb for a moment before looking back up to Bucky, “A few months ago you wanted to kill me, and now we’re holding a bomb I pulled to save your ass, again.”
“No, I still want to kill you sometimes,” Bucky amended, but the words held no merit.
“Alright,” The bomb squad lady said, grabbing onto the underside of the bomb, “You can let it go now. I’ve got it.”
Your smile faded and you locked your gaze with Bucky’s again. He pulled one of his hands off and your grip on the explosive tightened. You shook your head slightly.
“It’s okay,” He murmured, nodding to you, “Let it go.”
Bucky slid his hand that was left on the bomb to yours, intertwining your fingers and slowly pulling your hand off. Before you knew it, Bucky had managed to pull your hand off the grenade. In its stead, Bucky held your hand tightly, pulling you instantly into his chest.
You let out a shuddering sigh of relief, leaning your head on Bucky’s shoulder. Slowly he pulled back, keeping your hand in his, “Come on, let’s go.”
You nodded, your fear ebbing as the two of you jumped down from the train car. In an instant, Sam was at the two of you, nearly knocking you over with a hug. You laughed, letting go of Bucky’s hand and hugging Sam back.
“You are insane!” Sam exclaimed, letting go of you and shaking his head, “Absolutely insane.”
You smiled, “Thanks,”
Sam laughed, shaking his head as he walked over to Bucky, “So not a compliment.”
After he checked in with Bucky he turned and faced the two of you.
“Good work, guys. Glad to see you’re not killing each other here.”
“Yet,” You and Bucky happened to say at the same time.
Sam smiled, “I better be off, I’ve got a mission I left to help out here.” Pausing, he looked over to you and gestured to Bucky, “Take care of him?”
You smiled, nodding, “Always.”
The two of you said your goodbyes as Sam turned and flew off. With a long sigh, you turned and began to make your way back to Bucky’s car.
“Well, I don’t know about you, but I could go for some food right now.” You announced.
“Wait,” Bucky stopped you, grabbing your arm and pulling you around to face him, “What you said back there to Kingpin…did you mean it?”
For a moment, you considered playing dumb and asking what he meant. But you knew what he meant, and he knew you did. You had inadvertently said that you loved him, and because of the bomb situation you almost thought you’d make it out without having to confront it.
You held Bucky’s gaze that was searing into you, and suddenly you were overcome with that same sensation to kiss him as before. With him standing this close to you and after what you’d just been through together, it took all of your strength to hold back. The tension in the air between the two of you as he waited for your response was maddening.
“Well, I did nearly blow myself up for you so take that as you-”
“You are infuriating,” Bucky huffed, tugging you closer so that your body was flush against his. Your joking ended immediately, your pulse flickering wildly as his lips danced just out of reach of yours. His blue eyes were dark as he stared down at you, each of you daring the other to make the first move.
Your lips brushed against his as you spoke into the silence, “I meant it.”
And then his lips were on yours. His arm was around your waist, pulling you tight as his other tangled into your hair. This kiss had been brewing for months, and you could feel it. Lightning danced across your skin as he kissed you desperately, in a way that made your arms tighten around his neck to keep yourself from falling. He nipped at your bottom lip softly, then pulled away and moved to hold your face in his hands.
For a long while, Bucky just stared at you with a soft smile playing on his lips. You smiled, still dazed from the kiss.
“What?” You asked.
He ran a thumb across your cheek tenderly, “I was just trying to think back to when things changed between us. But…but I think I’ve loved you from the moment I met you.”
Your smile widened and you surged forward, kissing him again. Pulling back, you gazed up at him with an amused glint in your eyes.
“And when you were choking me in my kitchen, threatening to kill me, that was you showing your love for me?” You asked.
Bucky’s grin turned suave and playful as he threw his arm across your shoulders and walked with you towards his car, “Well, you seemed to like it enough in that train car.”
Your cheeks heated and you scoffed, slapping his muscled chest as the two of you walked.
“Jerk,” You laughed out, and he held you closer to him with a smile.
Could I request a really angsty (but ultimately happy) enemies to lovers with Bucky Barnes?
HIIII omg hi I am so genuinely, from the bottom of my heart sorry that I did not get to this sooner.
I always get home from work and think I'm gonna sit down and write and then I sit down and don't lol. I promise I'll be better!! Anyways, I absolutely love this and did my best with it. I'll post it right after this, I really hope you like it!
Summary: After being abandoned as a child, you grew up working for one of the most prolific crime lords in the galaxy in order to survive. It all comes crashing down as a split second decision has the Mandalorian hunting you. As it turns out, your hunter might be the only one who can save you. After all, the lines between predator and prey have always been blurred.
Warnings: angst (what's new), mild language, panic attack, violence, fluff, mentions of human trafficking (brief), Mando being a fool in love, adult themes throughout, happy ending (again, what's new)
A/N: This is part two to the request I mentioned! Once again, got carried away and I kinda love it, hope you love it too!
Part 1
You managed to wrestle off the growing panic attack for close to an hour after Din left.
You sat close to the child, reminding yourself that Din at the very least would not leave the youngling he protected so dearly. When your mind began to doubt even that certainty, you could not stop the flashbacks when they began. The scenes of that night you remembered so well began to torment you.
Flashes of your father’s last words, of his lies that your innocent being so willingly believed. Flashes of your mother’s absent gaze. Flashes of Vince swooping in to claim you.
Vince. Din had said it himself, the bounty was at an unbelievably high credit amount by now, and only a fool would keep helping a bounty that could fetch such a high price. This thought crumbled whatever little strongholds remained on your self control and you shot to your feet, garnering a confused babble from the kid.
“Stay here,” You breathlessly instructed, touching the blaster at your waist as you stumbled for the hatch.
You would not be left, not this time. Not again. Not when Din meant so much to you.
You made sure to close the hatch behind you to protect the youngling within and set off for the city beyond where Din had no doubt ventured to begin his hunt. Your vision was blurred with uncried tears, and your chest was ever so slowly constricting upon your heart and lungs. Your stomach twisted with nausea and breathing became a conscious chore as you grappled for sanity, for reality. You would find him, you decided. You would find him and help him on the hunt.
It was stupid and irrational to anyone else, but you were haunted by ghastly memories and scarred by trauma and it wasn’t stupid to you. All you could manage to think was that it would not happen again. You would not be left again.
Din Djarin
Din trailed his target from afar, his trained eyes tracking the bounty’s every move and interaction.
After close to an hour and a half, he’d finally managed to banish you from the center of his thoughts and instead focus on the task at hand. But even then, as he waited for the bounty to enter a vulnerable, isolated area where he could confront them, Din could not stop his mind from traipsing to the Vince situation.
You had been dragging your feet for weeks to come up with a solid plan to confront your old boss, and Din knew that it was because of the way you felt indebted to Vince for raising and protecting you all of those years. You had never mentioned how you’d come into his service, but Din knew well enough that Vince was the father figure in your life. As much as he wanted to let you have time to keep working through that struggle, Din knew that time was running out. The hunt for you was only intensifying, and soon enough the two of you wouldn’t be able to keep up this quiet lifestyle. You’d be on the run, and Din wanted nothing more than for you to be at peace.
He was so distracted by that thought that he hadn’t even noticed the growing commotion on the street below his perch until the scream of civilians and the crashing of metal and glass caught his attention. Din snapped his gaze down to the street only for his heart to drop straight to the floor.
Because there you were, sprinting as hard as you could away from a hunter with a tracking fob in their grasp.
Din instantly snapped into action, a nasty curse slipping past his lips as he dropped down from the roof he was crouching on and broke into a run. He cursed you in his head, furious that you’d left the safety of the Crest even when he’d told you not to.
“Move.” Din growled, shoving past patrons and bystanders as he sprinted after the trailing commotion of you and the bounty hunter.
Thinking quickly, Din took a shortcut through an alleyway. After scaling the wall at the end of it and dropping at the other side, he managed to emerge just ahead of your frantic escape. Adrenaline tangling with dread in his blood, he managed to grab ahold of your running form just as you sprinted past the alley’s opening. Whipping you inside, he had you pinned against the back wall with a hand at your mouth to silence you before you could even scream.
The panic in your eyes at the sudden movement lessened as your eyes focused on him, your body pinned snugly between the wall and his beskar-plated chest. This was the closest he had ever been to you, what with no space at all remaining between the two of you. If it were a different circumstance, Din’s mind would be clouded with thoughts of your body so close to his.
But there was a hunter after you, and for that reason alone Din forced himself to ignore the press of you against him.
Din could hear your voice muffled against his hand, but didn’t pay attention as he pressed closer to hide you and glanced out of the alley just as the bounty hunter jogged past. The hunter looked utterly confused, wondering where their bounty had just disappeared to.
Before the hunter could think again, Din had released you and rushed them. He grabbed the hunter and dragged them into the alley harsher than he had you, and just as he did, you whipped out your blaster and landed a fatal blow to the hunter’s chest. Din released the hunter, letting their body slump to the ground between the two of you. As a deafening silence settled over the absence of chaos, Din looked up from the hunter and to your trembling form.
He was furious.
You had almost gotten yourself captured, and he never would have known until he would have returned to the Crest after the hunt and seen you gone. The very thought had his throat closing in terror, and it was that terror that Din was able to blanket and express as rage to hide the blatant outpouring of how he really felt about you.
“Vaabir gar ganar a jaro?” Din raged, not even realizing the words were Mando’a until he saw the flash of confusion on your utterly perfect face that was contorted with an emotion Din was too angry to notice. He repeated, “Do you have a death wish?”
“Din, I-” You tried, your voice trembling almost as badly as your body.
“You could have gotten killed, or worse!” He shouted. Your chest was rising and falling rapidly now, and in his horror-driven anger, he still hadn’t noticed. You had never heard him speak this loudly before.
“I-I’m sorry.” Your voice was frail and unsure, so unlike how you usually were, “You left me, and I didn’t…I didn’t know what to do.”
Din stormed forward, grabbing your arm firmly, but nowhere near painfully, “I said I was coming back! Why would you-”
Din’s words died on his tongue. Now that he was touching you, he finally noticed the tremors surging through your body. Like the plug of a drain had been pulled, his rage flooded away and he could no longer conceal the concern he harbored for you. Din examined your face for a moment and took in the faraway, haunted look in those stunning eyes of yours. He saw the way you weren’t fully present in this moment and he realized suddenly that you weren’t just scared, you were in the midst of some sort of panic attack.
“Cyar’ika, what’s wrong? Are you okay?” Din’s voice was tender compared to the fury that had bridled it before.
“You left me,” You repeated, ever so softly and brokenly, “You left me and I didn’t know if you were going to…going to…”
You couldn’t even get the words out, you were so badly shaken, and it broke something so deeply within Din. Suddenly, he couldn’t care less that you had almost been captured. All Din could think about right now was how to help you, how to bring you back to him.
In the darkness of the alley, Din brought his hands to your face. His thumbs ran along your tear-streaked cheeks and Din knew that the sight of your tears was one of the most rattling he’d ever encountered. He wished he could mark down every one of them and note where and who they came from so he could hunt them down and make them pay.
“What’s wrong, cyare? I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me, sweetheart.”
Your hands grabbed onto Din’s arms as he cupped your cheeks in his hands. To Din, it almost seemed as though you were holding onto him as if your life depended on it.
“You can’t leave me too,” You finally managed to gasp out, your large, panicked eyes rising to meet his through his mask, “You can’t leave me too.”
The very thought of leaving you made his stomach turn and Din instantly let go of you just so he could tug you close to his body. He’d never wanted to take off his armor as badly as right now. He wanted to pull you closer, closer than the beskar allowed. The way you instantly crumbled into him made his heart shatter, and it killed him not to understand why someone so fortified and seemingly unshakable was so utterly terrified.
“I’m not gonna leave you, cyar’ika,” Din mumbled, rooting one of his hands through your hair to hold you closer to his chest, “I’m not gonna ever leave you.”
In that moment, Din forgot everything else besides what it felt like to have you in his arms. He wished that it could last forever, but he knew that this was only a temporary fix to whatever was happening to you. Besides, the longer you were out here, the more likely it was that another hunter followed a tracking fob here and found you.
“Come on, let’s get back to the Crest,” Din softly urged, pulling back but not daring to let go of you. Instead, he kept his arm wrapped protectively around your waist as he led you back to the Crest.
He needed answers. He needed to know what had caused you to be in such distress.
|||
Your POV
It had been nearly three hours since the incident in the town today.
In the time that followed, Din had gotten you back to the Crest and launched you immediately off of the planet and into a far corner of the galaxy from Serreno.
Once he was sure you were far from the planet you’d just been tracked down to, he left the cockpit and settled you onto the cot in your room with a blanket around your shoulders. He left only for a handful of minutes before he was back with a steaming mug of soothing tea. Then, he simply sat down beside you in silence, allowing you to soak in his presence and strength until you felt ready to speak.
Now, hours past the episode earlier, you finally had worked up the courage to speak to him.
“I’m sorry about earlier,” You mumbled, not being able to meet the Mandalorian’s gaze, “I know I jeopardized all of our safety by leaving and I know I should have listened-”
“Hey, stop that,” Din interrupted, making your rambling instantly stop. You kept your gaze firmly down on your lap and you heard him sigh from beside you, “Look at me, cyar’ika.”
Cyar’ika. You weren’t entirely sure what the word meant in the common tongue, but coming from Din it sent warmth spiraling through you. Din surprised you by gently grabbing your chin and turning your face to meet his.
“I’m not mad at you. I was just…scared.”
The rumble of his voice grounded you, and as he dropped his hand from your chin you almost reached out to stop him.
One vulnerable moment passed by and you sighed deeply, “I was too.”
That was what Din had been waiting for, you could tell by the way his entire body seemed to stiffen. With intrigue that he could not hide well, he tilted his head at you.
“Why?”
The question jolted through you even though you had known it would be coming. You peered deeply into the depths of his mask that had become a safe haven to you, and you made a choice.
“My parents abandoned me when I was seven years old,” You started. And when the Mandalorian bounty hunter, perhaps the most intimidating person you’d ever met, reached over and took your hand in his, you had the strength to keep speaking.
You told him everything. Afterwards, as you lay staring up at your ceiling that night, you realized just exactly what Din Djarin meant to you.
And you were finally ready to let go of Vince Hanon.
|||
“Are you sure this is going to work?”
The Mandalorian’s voice rang with uncertainty just as you finished rigging up the comlink with an untraceable chip, just as Vince taught you as a child.
“Have a little faith in me,” You quipped, glancing up at Din as you leaned back in your chair sat across from him with the rigged comlink between you, “I know Vince Hanon better than anyone. It will work.”
Din sighed, resting back in his chair and propping one arm up on the side of it, “As long as that comlink won’t lead him right to us, I guess nothing bad can come of a conversation.”
“I’ve been rigging coms since I was eleven, Mando. This baby is untraceable,” You assured, savoring his low laugh in response. The two of you sat in Peli’s hanger on Tatooine. You had met her only a week ago, and yet she’d taken quickly to you. Already, you felt the familiar ache in your chest every time you had to leave just as you began to make a friend.
You couldn’t allow yourself to think that way, not right now. So. you sucked in a deep breath and leaned forward, activating the comlink. A series of beeps sounded out as you typed Vince’s connection swiftly into the com and then…silence.
Silence.
Silence.
And then…
“I have to admit, Prodigy. It took you longer than I originally bet to contact me. I’m impressed.”
As Vince’s voice wafted out of the comlink and stung your ears, you had to bite down on the inside of your cheek to keep from breaking apart all over again. In a moment, you had your composure back and leaned forward, feeling the intense gaze of Din all the while.
“What else did you bet on concerning me, Vince? I’m sure you’ve lost more than a few up to this point.” Your voice was sharp and light, and you hoped Vince did not see through the ruse and notice how frantic you really were within.
His laugh barked through the comlink, setting you slightly at ease. At least he wasn’t yelling. Yet.
“Good to hear you haven’t changed,” Vince mused.
“You’d be surprised,” You bit out. On the other end, Vince hummed in response.
“Tell me, my prodigy. What is it that pushed you to contact me now, after months of running?”
“It’s just that,” You replied, your heart now ricocheting in your chest. This was it. What came next were the lies, and you hoped and prayed that he would buy them, “I’m tired of running. I want to know what it’s going to take for you to end this, to let all of this stop.”
“Aw, now tell me the truth darling,” Vince tsked, and you nearly lost your cool as you waited in dread-filled anticipation for what he would say next, “This wouldn’t have anything to do with that Mandalorian that you’ve had as your guard dog, now would it?”
You made sure to wait a beat to respond, “He left me on Serenno. Now I’m on my own, and I think we both know how long I’ll last like that.”
There was another pause, and your mind was racing with the possibilities of what would happen should he not believe you.
Vince sounded humored when he finally responded, “He left you. I’m sorry child, but I’m starting to see a pattern here. First your parents, and now your bounty hunter.”
“Watch your mouth, Vince.” Your anger was not forced.
“Oh, I struck a chord there.” Then he paused again, and laughed suddenly into the silence, “Oh no, please don’t tell me you grew to care for this bounty hunter.”
Suddenly, Din’s gaze on you was burning hot and your heart missed more than one beat. You had to grapple to keep your composure, for it felt almost exposing to have this topic brought up when you knew you wouldn’t have to lie as much.
“It doesn’t matter anymore. He left, and now I need to know what it’s going to take for you to end this hunt,” You gritted out.
“Come back to me, then I’ll call it off.”
You didn’t even hesitate.
“Not a chance,” You assured, your pulse racing a bit faster, “You’re a businessman, Vince. Let’s make a deal.”
This was it. That was the bait, now you just had to wait and see if he’d take it.
And if you knew anything about Vince Hanon, you knew that he couldn’t deal over a comlink.
“Tempting,” He pondered, seeming to pause to consider the trap laid before him. You were sure he considered that possibility, that the Mandalorian had not left and you were setting him up, which you were. Luckily for you, Vince Hanon had always underestimated you.
“Tell you what,” Vince finally decided, making you sit up a bit straighter and look over at Din briefly in anticipation, “Come back to homebase, alone. We’ll talk and see if we can’t come up with something.”
“And how am I supposed to be sure you’re not going to attack me as soon as I do?” I questioned in return. Vince laughed heartily across the comlink.
“Oh how I’ve missed you, my prodigy,” Vince chuckled, sighing to himself, “We’ll make it a neutral zone. You have my word if I have yours.”
You knew he was lying, but you could lie too.
“Done,” You reply.
“Good,” Vince purred, his voice making your stomach turn, “I’ll see you tomorrow. I have missed you.”
That was the one part that you could not be sure was a lie or not.
“See you then,” Was all you said in response before shutting off the comlink and sitting back with a huff of relief. After a brief pause of silence, you glanced up to see Din already looking at you.
“Told you it would work.”
Din nodded, standing up from his spot across from you, “Now for the hard part.”
The two of you had walked through this plan at least a hundred times in the last week. It was simple. Get access to Vince’s homebase, get him to talk with you, and then, when his guard was down, Din would come in through one of the secret passages only you and Vince knew about and help you end this for good.
You stood as Din made his way over to you and handed you a small pouch heavy with metal, “Here’s enough credits to get a ship. There’s a shipyard a couple hundred paces from where we’re docked. Get one and head straight for the homebase. I’ll trail you there tomorrow morning.”
You accepted the credits gratefully and nodded, “Remember, be careful. Vince will have all of his outposts looking for you. He doesn’t trust me anymore, he’ll be expecting you.”
Din nodded stiffly, “I’ll make sure the kid is safe with Peli before I leave.”
You nodded in return, and the two of you stood there in tense silence for a moment. You both knew what was coming next, and you both knew the risks.
“It’s gonna work. I know it will,” Din assured. You took in a deep breath, your brows drawn in worry as you met his gaze through the dark of his mask.
“It has to.” You suddenly were slammed with a piercing ache in your chest as you realized this was a goodbye. Even if it was just for now, it scared the hell out of you.
You didn’t want to leave him.
Without uttering another word, Din stepped forward and tugged you close to him. He seldom hugged anyone, and had only done so once with you when you had completely broken down before him on Serenno. Now here he was, holding you just as close as you were holding him.
“Thank you,” You breathed, not moving back an inch, “For everything. I could never repay you for all of this.”
“You’re not gonna pay me for helping you. I’m not in this for a profit.” He rumbled, and his voice once again reminded you of what home really was, “If I was, I would’ve turned you in months ago.”
A surprised laugh broke through you and you stepped back, reluctantly pulling yourself out of his arms, “Another joke, this is becoming a new habit.”
“Only for you, cyar’ika.” His voice was like honey to your soul and you were reminded of how addicted you were.
How in the hell did this happen? When you first met him, he was a hunter and you were his bounty. He then became your reluctant protector, which you could understand enough, but now….Somehow Din Djarin went from a reluctant protector to the one person who made you believe in fate.
“Be safe, Din.” You instructed as you slowly walked back.
“You too.”
And then you left, turning around and heading for the shipyard he pointed out. As you did, your heart stayed right there with the beskar-coated Mandalorian.
His hands were safe, they would protect your heart. Even if he wasn’t aware he had it yet.
|||
Walking back along Vince’s turf, you realized just how many scars you bore from this place.
Some were physical, but most were internal. Either way, those scars reminded you of the caution you needed to proceed with and exactly what was at stake. Those scars helped you walk with assurance into the mansion that you had fled from what felt like a lifetime ago.
“There you are! The lost child finally comes home.” Vince’s voice echoed through the halls of his mansion, making adrenaline spike instantly through your veins. The crime boss walked to meet you in the foyer of the mansion, his lips alight with a smirk but his eyes uneasy.
“She came alone, sir,” One of the five guards with you reported, before holding up a single blaster gifted to you by Din, “She was armed only with this.”
“You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you, prodigy?” Vince mused, taking the blaster and examining it for a moment before tossing it aside. The metal guns slid across the polished floor.
“Five guards, is that really necessary Vince?” You inquired, gesturing to the five hulking members of Vince’s crime organization around you. All of them were familiar to you. In fact, you were close friends with most of them before your fallout with Vince. To be on the other side of this was about as unpleasant as you assumed it would be
“As I said, you are full of surprises. I had to be sure you would hold up the neutral zone,” Your old boss replied, examining you closely for a moment before turning and leading you off into the mansion you knew like the back of your hand, “Come. Let’s find a place to talk.”
Vince led you off into the bulking facility, finally guiding you into the massive conference room where he holds most of his meetings. The room sat near the highest floor of the mansion and jutted out the side, leaving nothing between you and the floor hundreds of feet below except for a solid, metal floor.
To fully convey the type of business meetings Vince held here, there was a large, circular hole in the middle of the floor near where Vince finally stopped walking. Air roared in through the hole, and you didn’t have to question what it was for. You’d seen Vince use it before when clients were being…less than compliant. The drop was fatal, and there was no one who had ever survived it.
“Now, you wanted to talk so badly. So talk, child.” Vince announced, turning to you with an almost taunting gaze.
You wasted no time getting to the point, “What is it going to take for you to stop this hunt?”
“Woah now,” Vince chuckled, clasping his hands before himself, “Let’s ease into this. First, I have a question I have just been dying to ask you.”
He took your silence that followed as a sign to continue on, “Just how did you manage to get the Mandalorian bounty hunter to be your loyal guardian?”
“I don’t know why he did it,” You responded truthfully. You left it at that, not wanting to do the ‘small talk’ thing with Vince.
“I mean, it really is quite interesting. A bounty hunter as respectable as the Mandalorian tracks you down, but instead of cashing in my generous bounty, he helps you evade me. Then again, you always did know how to sweet talk, didn’t you?”
His words bit into you and you absorbed them with as much composure as you could. Surprisingly, you found that they did not hurt you as much as they would have months ago. Vince’s words are beginning to mean less to you with every passing day.
“Get to the point, Vince.” You drawled out. He is unfazed by your words and continues on his tangent as he often does.
“What really boggles me, though, is that he just left. He didn’t cash in your bounty, he just…left. Why is that?” Vince presses, looking like a cat that has caught a mouse in a trap. You refused to be trapped, though, and didn't cower away.
“Your guess is as good as mine.”
Vince hummed to himself, his eyes seeming to pierce straight through you, “So you do care for him, then.”
That took you by surprise, but you absorbed it as best as you could.
“Until he left me,” You admitted, deciding to allow Vince a hint of truth caught in the lies you were spinning, “But I guess you and I both have a habit of caring for people we probably shouldn’t.”
Finally, you were able to catch him by surprise with your biting retort. Even the guards around you seemed to take in a collective, sharp gasp. Vince’s gaze faltered, and you could see the fury he kept well-hidden behind his smirks and calm facade.
“You wanted to do business, so let’s do business,” He averted, and you took the small victory his avoidance indicated.
“I’ll call the hunt off with one condition. Come back to work for me, and all will be forgiven.” This time, you actually laughed.
“You’re kidding, right?” You retorted, looking at Vince as though he was insane, “I came here to compromise. You want me to work for you again, but I never will. Now, we have to find a common ground. We have to make a deal.”
“I’ve taught you well,” The crime boss admitted. All the while, your mind was split. You knew that Din was somewhere close by right about now, and you would only need to stall for a little while longer before he showed up.
“What do you propose?” You pushed, needed to continue the conversation to give Din more time to get into the mansion. Vince paused for a long while, and the guards around began to get antsy in the silence. They shifted from foot to foot before finally Vince broke the silence.
“Here is your deal,” He finally spoke, his eyes lit up with excitement as he surveyed you, “I will give you a test. If you pass, I’ll call off the bounty. I’ll even publicly announce a penalty if anyone still pursues to take or harm you.”
You went to respond when he pressed on, “And you will have your freedom from me.”
This was where you faltered. You knew that Din was close and that soon enough everything you were dealing with Vince would not even matter, but his offer still made you pause. Interested, you couldn’t help but take the bait.
“What’s the test?” You asked warily.
“And where’s the fun in that?” Vince hummed, shaking his head at you, “You’ll have to take the deal before I tell you.”
That was a dangerous game. You had no idea what his ‘test’ was, and you knew that whatever it was would not be pleasant. But, you were running out of time to stall Vince and you needed to buy Din more time.
So, you did exactly what he wanted you to do. Din would be here soon anyways, what would the deal really stand for?
“Deal,” You agreed. You watched surprise flicker across Vince’s features. He hadn’t expected you to agree so easily. Looking all too pleased with himself, Vince clapped his hands together.
“Wonderful!” He turned to gesture to two of the five guards surrounding the room, “Please bring in our test.”
The two guards spared you a long glance, and in that glance you noticed a shred of pity. These were people you grew up around, people whose lives you’d saved and who had saved yours. To see them hesitant to do Vince’s bidding made you even more uneasy, but it brought you a shred of hope. If these guards still shared a thread of loyalty to you, maybe they would not kill you if it came to that.
You were so focused on thinking about your own survival that you didn't even realize the guards were dragging someone, not something, into the conference room until a glint of light on metal caught your eye.
Nothing could have prepared you for what you saw when you looked up, because there he was. Your Mandelorian. He was in cuffs, stripped of his weapons, positioned right near the open hole in the floor, and…
A gasp left your lips and before you could register what was happening your eyes were locking with his. Not his mask, with his eyes. They took his helmet off, and now you were looking at Din Djarin’s face.
You allowed yourself one selfish second of taking in the sheer rugged beauty of his features that nearly knocked you off of your feet before you forced your eyes to train on Vince. If you closed your eyes like you wanted to, it would give away too easily just how deeply you cared for Mando. You didn’t want to shatter his anonymity, but you knew there was no escaping it. That didn’t stop the guilt that shriveled in your gut, or the memory of those piercing brown eyes that was being burned into your brain.
“What the hell is he doing here?” You asked, masking your sudden, rising panic with feigned anger. Vince looked all too smug as he waltzed over to Din and placed a hand on his beskar-armored shoulder. His face was drawing you in like a magnet, but you forced yourself not to look. Din didn’t choose to do this, to break his code and his way of life, you couldn’t violate him like that.
No matter how badly you wanted to see his breathtaking face again.
“I caught him on the outskirts of my mansion,” Vince replied, making you bite the inside of your cheek to keep from flinching or showing your terror, “Which is interesting since you just said that he had left you.”
“He did,” You asserted, not fully being able to hide the tremble in your voice, “On Serreno. I don’t know why he’s here.”
Vince laughed at that, “Oh I have a few ideas. Your freedom depends on which one of them is true.”
“What’s the test?” You gritted out, your heart beginning to keep an irregular beat.
“The test is simple,” Vince announced, walking away from Din who was surrounded by two of the three guards and approaching you, “Prove to me that you do not care for the Mandalorian.”
“What?” you breathed out, growing more and more erratic with each passing moment. Vince just kept on smiling
“Prove to me that he means nothing to you. Prove that he’s not here because he never left you at all and this is all a trap for me. Prove that you do not care for him.” His words were dripping with arrogance, but you knew Vince Hanon well enough to see the truth. His words rang with jealousy.
Vince could not stand the very thought that you could care for someone who was not him. He wanted to be the only person you truly cared about, he wanted you to love him like a little girl would her father, he wanted you to love him like he loved you.
But a father would never do this, and this wasn’t love.
You had always wanted to love Vidar like you saw other children love their parents. You wanted him to be the father you had lost so badly that you were willing to convince yourself that he really cared and that you did too. You both had been lying to yourselves, but it was too late now.
Now, you had to play along and find a way to save the one person you truly cared for.
“How?” You asked, trying to look as calm as you could. Vince seemed surprised by your sudden shift in character and seemed to lower his guard for a moment. He grabbed the blaster the guards had confiscated from you and shoved it into your hands.
“Take this, and shoot your Mandalorian in the head.”
Your world seemed to stop as you simply stared down at the gun in your hands. No longer being able to avoid it, you gave in to your desires and looked up to lock eyes with Din. He was already staring right at you, so as soon as your eyes met, something broke within your gaze so that only Din could see it.
He was so so handsome, and you realized that they had taken off his helmet not just to allow you to shoot him, but to try and shake you as well. Before you could even turn the blaster on Vince, your boss interrupted, “And don’t even think about shooting me instead. If you do, Mando here will be dead before I can even hit the ground.”
On cue, the two guards who you were raised with lifted their blasters to point at Din from either side. True helplessness welled up in your gut. There was no way out of this. There was no way you could save him without giving yourself up.
As you raised your blaster to point at Din’s head, you knew you couldn’t do it. Din saw the brief flash of defeat flicker through your gaze, and his features went from nervous to utterly frantic. He didn’t dare say a word, but he shook his head the slightest bit. His intentions were clear.
Do it, Din was practically screaming at you, Kill me. Don’t go back to Vince.
The blaster shook in your hands, and you once again saw the pity on the guards' faces as tears blurred your vision. With every moment that passed, your facade crumbled. It was plain to anyone in the room that you were moments from agreeing to go back to Vince, and Din was growing more and more restless.
“Come on,” Din breathed, so low you could barely hear it.
Your heart was shattering within your chest and a single tear managed to slip down. That was your tipping point, and you no longer tried to hide the quivering of the blaster in your hands. Din’s gaze was growing desperate the more distraught you became, for he knew exactly what you were going to do to save his life.
In an act of pure defeat, you dropped the blaster with hot tears already slipping past your defenses. Din struggled slightly against the vice grips the two guards had on him, and it only deepened the crack opening in your chest. When your eyes clashed with his, you knew this was it.
You looked over to Vince, not able to look at the despair in Din’s gaze. Just as you were about to say you were going to go back to Vince, you noticed the twitch of pure rage across your old boss’s features. There was a flicker of jealousy that quickly followed, and then, quicker than you could stop it, Vince took a step closer to Din.
“Always have to do it myself,” Vince spat, turning to the Mandalorian and kicking him squarely in the chest.
You gasped in horror as Din’s eyes went wide and he stumbled backwards towards the opening in the floor leading to a couple hundred foot drop.
“NO!” You cried out, shoving away from the guards around you and tossing the blaster aside. The only thing you could see was the Mandalorian falling without his jetpack that they no doubt stripped from him.
You sprinted as hard as you could, and before anyone could stop you, you dove and slid across the hard floor. You slowed to stop at the edge of the hole and threw your arm down, managing to latch onto the cuffs bracing Din’s arms just as he fell through.
The weight of Din snapped you forward towards the hole, and you had just enough time to brace a foot against the lip of the hole as you held fast to your Mandalorian. Your soul-sighing relief at catching him did not last long when his weight held by one of your hands on his cuffs dislocated your shoulder with a sickening crunch.
Your scream of agony echoed through the meeting room, and you managed to pry open your eyes to peer down at Din through the roaring of wind. Your eyes met his as he dangled hundreds of feet above the ground, the only thing keeping him alive being your already-weakening hand secured to his restraints.
“Din,” You breathed, your tears falling down into the wind.
The horrifying sound of cracking metal made you snap your attention to his restraints. Under his weight, they were beginning to bend and fail.
“You gotta let me go,” Din choked out, and more tears fell on cue. You shook your head almost violently, your vision dotting with white amidst the blinding pain.
“Help him!” You begged, your voice raw and cracking, “Help him, please!”
One of the guards moved to help you, but Vince stopped them with one raised hand, “I will. If you agree to rejoin my organization.”
“No!” Din’s sudden shout, something extremely rare for the Mandalorian, took you by utter surprise, “Don’t. Please.”
More cracking sounded from his restraints, and in a matter of seconds, the metal binding his hands together had begun to snap apart. You had enough time to latch onto one of his wrists just as the restraint integrity failed and snapped apart, but the weight of holding him by one hand only now nearly tore you apart in anguish.
You couldn’t lift him on your own, not with your shoulder in this state. You couldn’t save him, not without damning yourself.
“I’m sorry,” You sobbed, looking down at the man who had saved your life.
“Cyar’ika please, don’t do this. Just let me go,” Din pleaded.
You could tell that he was trying to pry his hand free from yours to make the choice for you, but you held fast to his wrist.
“I can’t.” Your breath was almost lost to the wind, but it was loud enough for Vince and his men when you spoke next.
“I’ll do it, I’ll come back to you! Just help him.” And with that, your fate was sealed.
The guards sprung into action, darting forward and grabbing onto the Mandalorian and tugging him out of the hole. Relief danced with misery in your chest as you helped drag him fully out. As soon as his body was out, Din slid away from the drop off and tugged your body instantly into his.
You melted into him, dropping your head into the crook of his neck and savoring the feel of his stubble. One of his arms was wrapped around your back diagonally, holding you impossibly close. With the other, he gently prodded your injured shoulder. You hissed instantly in pain, wincing as his fingers danced across it.
“I know, darling. I know,” Din murmured, then held you closer as he quickly and expertly relocated your shoulder. Your cry of pain was short and immediately chased with a relief of pressure that made you drop further into him. One of his hands found your jaw and angled your face so your forehead was pressed against his.
Skin on skin, breaths mingling—it would be heaven if you didn’t know the hell of saying goodbye was on the horizon.
“I’m sorry,” You sobbed, not caring what the two of you looked like to everyone else in the room with you practically in his lap, “I’m so sorry.”
“None of that,” Din urged, his nose brushing yours, “I’m the one who’s sorry.”
There was such defeat in his tone that it tore you apart. There was so much you hadn’t told him, so much he didn’t know about how you felt about him. You did not have to look around to know that the five guards who were once your family were watching the ordeal with a somber facade.
“Din-”
“I know,” He whispered, his lips brushing yours and sending electricity crackling through your body.
You knew Vince was watching your every movement and you knew that if he was jealous before, he’d kill you for this, but you did not care. All you cared about was that the Mandalorian was holding you close and his lips were so close to yours that they almost touched.
So you leaned forward and pressed a feather light kiss to his lips.
You wanted more, and you could tell from the way Din almost chased your lips after you pulled away that he did too. You couldn’t, though. Not if you didn’t want Vince to kill him. But that one small, fleeting kiss was enough to ignite you, to strengthen you, to forever rip you apart. A confirmation of what was swirling in your chest and a reminder of what now could never be.
It was Vince Hanon’s voice that broke the silence, but not in the way you expected him to.
“You love him.” Not a question, a statement.
The words jolted through you, but you accepted them with a bittersweet ache of your chest. You locked your gaze with the dark brown eyes of the Mandalorian and nodded, “I do.”
Those two words seemed to shatter whatever was left in the depths of those brown eyes. There was a solemn silence that followed your response, and when Vince spoke next, it was so quiet you almost didn’t hear it.
“Take him and go.”
Not daring to hope in the words just uttered, you swiveled around to lock your gaze with the equally broken one of your old boss. Vince Hanon looked down at you and for once, you could see a flicker of the love of a father in his torn eyes.
“What?” You breathed. Vince swallowed hard and held his jaw tightly.
“Take him and go,” He repeated, his eyes softening upon the closest thing to a family that Vince had ever known, “You’re free.”
Not waiting to see if he would change his mind, Mando and you managed to climb to your feet. Instantly, you looked to the nearest guard who looked at you with…happiness.
“His helmet and jetpack,” You inquire, to which the guard nods and jogs away to go and grab Din’s belongings. The Mandalorian’s hand dropped to grab onto yours and you looked over at him with a bright, uncontrolled smile. You didn’t know if you were going to be able to see his face at the end of this, so you tried to capture every detail.
“Didn’t I tell you that it was all going to work-”
Your words were cut off sharply by the sound of a blaster followed by the explosion of searing heat through your upper torso.
Bits of blood and seared flesh splattered across the beskar armor of the Mandalorian as, in the split second of happiness you both had allowed, Vince had changed his mind, and the love in his eyes had melted away as he lowered his smoking blaster. Your sharp groan of pain splintered through the shocked air, and your wide eyes met the petrified, fury-lined gaze of the Mandalorian.
“Y/N,” Din breathed, his arm circling your waist as you collapsed into him, “Y/N stay with me. Stay with me!”
His frantic voice was dulled in your ears as you slipped down to the floor. He followed you, cradling your body into his lap as your organs slowly began to shut down in the shock of the injury. Your breath came in gasps and you couldn’t seem to fill your lungs no matter how hard you tried. You managed to look over to Vince, who stared down at you in furious, jealous determination.
In his eyes you saw the answer to why he’d taken back his word—If I can’t have you, then neither can he.
“Kill the Mandalorian and dispose of the bodies,” Vince ordered flippantly, an ice cold wall slamming down within his mind.
You clutched Din’s hand tightly, your half-lidded gaze slipping up to his. Not even thinking twice, Din held you close and shielded your body with his. It wouldn’t do much—you were already dying. You were going to die with him in his arms, and you could think of no better way to go. Just as you braced for the blaster shots, you heard the click of metal followed by an astonished gasp. Slowly, Din moved away from you and you heard him release a low, shaking breath. In your half-delirious state, you managed to look over to the source of the commotion.
There was Vince Hanon, standing in shocked outrage as the five guards he’d just ordered to finish you and Din off now stood with their weapons pointed at Vince.
“Sorry boss,” One bit out, his chin lifted high as he defended you, “This one’s personal.”
At the rollercoaster of grief to panic to relief and back, your body slumped further into Din now that you knew the two of you were safe.
Well, at least he was.
“Get the med kit!” Din shouted to one of the guards, who readily sped off to the corner of the meeting room and grabbed the bacta kit that was kept there for emergencies. Din looked back to you, running his hand along your hair, “You’re gonna be okay, cyare. You’re gonna make it.”
“Can we go home now?” You breathed, your eyelids growing heavier by the moment. Din nodded, running a finger along your cheek.
“We’re gonna go home,” He vowed.
It was his vow that allowed you to blissfully drift into the comfort the darkness brought you.
|||
Arriving into consciousness was a series of steps.
You remembered flashes of light and sound and beskar steel all wrapped in darkness and sleep. There were groggy memories of strong hands and whispered vows as you slowly ascended back into the waking world.
When you finally awoke, you barely felt the pain you’d fallen asleep with.
As you slowly sat up, one hand braced against your barely tender and mostly healed torso, you took in the familiar surroundings of the Crest. With furrowed brows, you glanced around the small cramped room that had been yours during your months with the Mandalorian.
Din.
The thought shot you out of your half-awake stupor, your mind sharpening at the chaotic memories that infiltrated it. You and Din had survived. You had escaped Vince and you survived.
Even though a part of you wanted to crawl back into bed and delay whatever conversation was coming, you forced yourself to stand on wavering feet. Instantly, you could feel the ache of the shoulder you had dislocated and a slight burn of pain where you had been shot.
With more strength than you previously thought you’d have, you stumbled out of your room and into the hull of the ship. The space was empty, but you heard the wafting of a voice from the cockpit above. So, gathering what little strength you had, you managed to make it up the ladder and up into the cockpit. As you swayed to your feet on the solid floor, you couldn’t help but smile at the sight of Din sitting in the pilot’s chair with the youngling beside him.
“I don’t know, kid,” You heard him sigh, turning from the child to look out the front of the ship and into the space beyond, “She’s been out for three days. She should be awake soon.”
His voice was unsure, and you couldn’t help but smile at the sight of your beskar-plated protector. The child noticed you before Din could, and his large dark eyes connected on you. The youngling let out an excited squeal and jumped down from his chair, scurrying over to you.
“Hey kid what are you-”
Din’s voice cut off sharply when he heard your laugh and turned to see you hoisting the small, green child into your arms, “I missed you too, buddy.”
You smiled sweetly down at the youngling who nuzzled into you, melting your heart as you held him close. Even though your gaze was down on the kid, you could feel Din’s burning stare on you. Looking up, you smiled at the sight of that familiar helmet.
“Morning,” You greeted. When Din slowly stood and said nothing, you gently set down the kid. You saw him take a shuddering breath, almost unnoticeable if he wasn’t the sole focus of your attention.
“You shouldn’t have come up the ladder, could’ve gotten hurt.” Was all he said. You laughed softly.
“I think a fall from a small ladder would be the least of my injuries right now,” You pointed out. There was a dragging silence that followed, and your smile faded. There was no avoiding the conversation to come, “Din, I’m so sorry. So many things went wrong back there and I-”
Din just shook his head and moved so swiftly that it made your words stutter in shock. Before you could finish your apology, Din was pulling you into him. His grip was firm, but gentle around your injured shoulder. Now that he was touching you, you could feel the tremble of his hands.
“I almost lost you,” He mumbled. Sudden, hot tears sprung to life in your eyes.
“I almost lost you,” You reminded, holding him a bit tighter, “How am I alive?”
“Right after the shot, Vince’s guards helped stabilize you with bacta before we could get you to a chamber.”
You nodded, your throat nearly closing up at the thought of Vince’s guards turning on him. Now that your mind was upon the subject, you mumbled against Din’s chest, “And Vince?”
“His guards turned him over to the New Republic on attempted murder charges. They’re bringing the whole organization down.” Din answered, one of his hands stroking your hair.
You thought that hearing those words would burden you with guilt or haunt you with sour memories. But, for the first time since Vince took you in at seven years old, something within you could rest. It was over. The pain, the loneliness, the obligation to serve a man who you felt indebted to—all of it was over.
Before you could reply, Din swiftly pulled back and slid his hands to cup your cheeks. Your heart missed two separate beats before it settled back into rhythm.
“Next time your life and mine are on the line, let me die.” It was not a suggestion, it was an order.
“I can’t do that,” You all but whispered. He shook his head vehemently.
“Let. Me. Die. Are we clear?” Din repeated, no room for negotiation in his tone. You held his gaze through the beskar helmet for a long pause before a sad look passed through your gaze. You were transparent, and you knew there was no longer anything you could hide from him.
“Let’s hope we’re never put in that position again,” Was all you could respond with that would be true. Din just shook his head at you, releasing your face and mumbling something beneath his breath about ‘stubborn’ and ‘head-strong’.
“If you were in my position, would you not have done the same thing?” You couldn’t stop the question, and even though you hid your curiosity with a scoff, the question burned in your mind.
Would he? You were almost positive that he would have, but you needed him to say it. You needed to know that you weren’t being delusional in the heat of a chaotic moment.
You needed to know if what you felt was shared by him.
The question seemed to catch the Mandalorian’s attention and he sighed, reaching up a hand to trace it along your cheekbone, “In a heartbeat. Cyar’ika, there is nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”
For a moment, you swore your heart stopped beating. The two of you were dancing around what was at the forefront of both of your minds, but you couldn’t last out much longer. As you stared into the shining beskar of his helmet, you remembered the features of his face. His rugged jaw and kind, brown eyes. You remembered it all.
“How the hell did we get here?” You breathed, smiling up at Din softly. He let out a slightly trembling breath.
“I don’t know,” Din replied, swiping his thumb across your cheek again before settling his hand under your jaw, “But I think I was made to love you.”
If your heart stuttered before, it gave out completely now. For a moment, the only thing left in the galaxy was you and him and the youngling staring up at the two of you with large, curious eyes. You were where you belonged. Smiling, you stood on your tiptoes and pressed a kiss to the cool metal of his helmet.
“I love you too,” You whispered, walking past him and settling into the seat beside him. As you did, the youngling walked up and jumped into your lap, making you giggle softly, “Where to, Mando?”
Din, almost seeming dazed, stumbled slightly to his chair and sat heavily. You chuckled at him as he fumbled with the controls for a moment before he cleared his throat and seemed to gain his composure.
“I need to find more of my kind to help with the kid,” Din replied, looking over to the small green child sitting in your lap.
“Well then,” You sighed contently, strapping yourself into the chair and making sure to secure the child, “Let’s go find them.”
Din reached out a hand and grazed yours with it, holding it for a moment before turning to the control panel and punching coordinates. As you watched him, you knew you could do this forever.
You still didn’t quite understand what could make two unlikely paths tangle. After all, you never should have met the Mandalorian. And even when you had, he was meant to be your reaper, your reckoning.
Instead, he had become your everything.
And if you had to endure your parents’ abandonment a thousand times over just to meet Din Djarin, you would do it with glee.
Summary: After being abandoned as a child, you grew up working for one of the most prolific crime lords in the galaxy in order to survive. It all comes crashing down as a split second decision has the Mandalorian hunting you. As it turns out, your hunter might be the only one who can save you. After all, the lines between predator and prey have always been blurred.
Warnings: angst (what's new), mild language, panic attack, violence, fluff, mentions of human trafficking (brief), Mando being a fool in love, adult themes throughout, happy ending (again, what's new)
A/N: This one was from the request that I accidentally deleted (i'm so mad at myself), but it was RIGHT up my alley lol. I hope my sweet anonymous finds this and I hope it is everything you wanted and more 🤍 ALSO! I got sooo carried away so it's a two-parter for ease of reading. You can find part 2 below!
Part 2
You never should have met the Mandalorian Bounty Hunter.
You never should have left the comfort of your home planet as a child. You never should have known anything besides the warmth of your mother's arms. It does not make sense that someone like you would meet someone like him. It should not have been possible, not in a million sun cycles.
So how did your story and the Mandalorian's tangle? How did ‘never’ get overcome so easily, so swiftly?
The answer is rather simple. Anything that never should have been was thrown from impossible to possible the night your parents left on a date night when you were seven years old.
And never came back.
|||
You remembered everything from that night.
You remembered the way the rain pattered against the large window in the common room of your cozy home. You remembered the spread of stars peeking out from behind the rain clouds, ready to shine their light upon the newly-brought night. You remembered everything from that night, including the look upon your father's face when he said goodbye.
You were too young to understand it then, too little to catch the hint of despair and shred of desperation as he ushered your emotionless mother out of the front door.
"Be back before bedtime, mama! You have to finish that story you started last night," Your little voice rang out, a smile spread on your lips.
Your mother, almost numb, did not respond. Strange, she always did.
Noticing your growing frown, your father smiled, but it did not reach his eyes, "Goodbye, little one. We'll be back before you know it"
"Have a good night," You called back, already humming to yourself as you played with the toys your father had spilled out in a hurry before you, "Love you lots!"
You did not even glance up as the door shut, did not even seem to notice that, for the first time, your parents did not say they loved you too. Looking back, it was hard to fathom you had missed all of the signs. But you were just a kid, a kid. How could you have known? How could you have guessed?
How were you to predict that your parents would not walk back through that door?
When they did not make it back in time to say goodnight, you hadn't thought much about it. When you woke up and they still had not returned, confusion began to ring within your young, innocent soul. For the first day, you lost the worry to the joy that you did not have to go to lessons today. You ate what you wanted and played for as long as you liked, but when night came once more, you wondered when mama would return to finish her story.
The food ran out a week later, and it would only be a few more days until you would find out why exactly your parents had not returned.
Your small fingers worked anxiously on the drawing before you. It was all you could do not to burst into tears. Your mother and father were still not back, and you were hungry. You knew you'd have to go into town soon, but you had no money and no adults to protect you.
What had happened to mama and papa, you wondered? Were they hurt? Were they...were they dead?
That was when the front door opened for the first time in a week and a half, and your life changed forever.
You gasped as the door swung open, hope flooding your small being. You jumped to your feet swiftly and, with a bright smile upon your lips, sprinted blindly towards the man who had just walked through the door.
"Papa! I'm so-"
Your words died as you skidded to a halt before the looming Zeltron male before you. This wasn't your father, and your mother was nowhere near him. Taking a hesitant step back, your bottom lip began to tremble.
"Who are you?" You whispered, your small hands shaking and your youthful voice higher-pitched than normal. The magenta-skinned male tilted his head down at you, seeming to examine you closely for a moment.
"Vince Hanon," He replied, his voice smooth and flooded with calculation, "Your father owed me a great debt."
That was when you noticed the towering goons behind Vince, strapped to the teeth with blasters and blades alike. Your eyes widened a fraction before anger boiled through your blood. They hurt your parents, they were the reason mama hadn't come home.
Swifter than Vince or his men could predict, you shot to the side and grabbed one of the long-forgotten toys along the ground and hurled it at the tall Zeltron.
To your dismay, he caught it with ease.
A smirk danced on his face as he glanced at the toy and then at you with what seemed to be mirth. Without a word, his guards stalked forward, one pulling a pair of metal cuffs as he neared you. Surprisingly, Vince held out a single hand, stopping all movements of his men.
"Sir?" One asked, glancing back at him, "The next shipment of children leaves soon. If she is to join, we should-"
"Do not give this one to the Trade," Vince ordered, walking past his men and up to you. Ever so slowly, he knelt before you, "She is young enough to learn, and strong enough to survive."
"Survive what?" You blurted, your heart pounding in your chest, "What's the Trade? What are you going to do with me?"
Vince laughed deeply before you, "So many questions, child. You'll have your answers."
He stood before you, extending down a purple hand, "Come, I'm sure you're hungry."
And so, with no other choice, you took the strange man's hand and left.
Vince never lied to you. He told you the moment you left your home that your father had lost everything trying to pay back the debt he owed Vince. With nothing left to give but his only child, he had offered you up for the child slave trade.
For reasons you would never truly come to know, Vince did not trade you. In fact, he traded no other child after that night.
He informed you that he was the head of a group of people who did bad things for good reasons and rewards. It wouldn't be for another couple years until you understood that meant he was a Crime Lord. What he was doing was wrong, what he was training you to do was wrong.
But you were a kid, and you did what you had to do to survive.
You're not a kid anymore.
|||
Present Day
The barely-used knife pressed its soothing cool into the skin of your thigh as you sauntered through the compound. As you passed the counterparts you had known since childhood, they stepped aside with wary smiles.
They knew your true knife was not the blade with which you had a slightly below average affinity. It was your tongue.
“Look who it is, Vince’s little prodigy.” The sound of the ever-present guards outside of Vince Hanon’s office called out to you, their lips turned up in a not entirely taunting smirk.
“Good morning, lackeys,” You greeted in return, stopping before the large, steel door that held your boss’s office behind it, “Vince sent word that he wanted to see me, another assignment apparently.”
One of the guards snickered slightly, “Hopefully it has nothing to do with using that blade on your thigh. Vince’s little prodigy would be too dead to report.”
“So funny,” You deadpan, shaking your head at the guard.
“You know, if Vince let you train with me as a child you would be proficient in the ways of combat,” The one who spoke first insisted. With a taunting smile, you walked up to the door and patted the guard’s shoulder.
“I’d also be as stupid as you, which is exactly why he didn’t.”
The laughter of the two guards filled your ears and brought a smile to your lips as you pushed the button on the panel beside the door. The steel whooshed aside, revealing Vince’s office. With that easy smile still on your lips, you greet the Zeltron who saved you as a child. His magenta skin gleamed in the sunlight that streamed in through the massive windows that made up the far wall of the office, and his white teeth were a stark contrast to the dark color as he looked up to you and smiled.
It did not go unnoticed that he only smiled at you like that.
Vince Hanon had no lover and no children, but anyone who knew a fraction about him knew that the closest thing he had to family was an abandoned child whose life he’d spared all those years ago. He wasn’t the father you’d always dreamed of, but he was the one you had. He hadn’t sold you for profit as your first father had, he hadn’t let you play with toys or even be a child in those first years under his care, but he had made you independent in this cruel, uncaring galaxy. That was something so very few women got to be.
Vince Hanon made you self-sufficient when you should have died long ago, and it was that reason alone that made you grateful to him. Not caring, as a daughter would be to her father, as you knew he was with you, but grateful.
“My Prodigy,” Vince called out, standing from his massive mahogany desk carved with images of bones and crumbled towers along the legs, “It is always a pleasure to see you.”
“And you, Vince.” Your words were fluid and easy, not entirely a lie. A part of your heart was caught in anxious anticipation, though.
You knew what came next. You knew he’d give you an assignment that made every part of your soul cringe. You knew what came next would push you further down the path of corruption and darkness. You knew, with a biting horror that never seemed to leave you alone, that after a few more years of doing his bidding, that small voice that whispered its disgust would go quiet.
And you’d be just like Vince.
“I was pleased to see your last assignment was handled with efficiency and discreteness,” Vince complimented. You nodded obediently, your hands clasped before you.
“The debtor did not have the credits to pay the balance due, so it seemed the Hothian government misplaced the deed to her home.” You reported, the words less bitter on your tongue than they would have been a few years ago.
“And it was found with my name on it,” Vince finished for you, allowing a deep chuckle to resonate through the room as he walked to your side. He put his arm along your shoulders, pulling you to his side and walking with you towards the back of his office space, “Good work, my Prodigy. I am impressed with how far you have come.”
“Thank you, Vince.”
Your jaw was tight and that nagging grew in your soul. He was pleased that you’d placed an elderly woman onto the streets to repay the debt she owed. The debt to Vince for saving her son’s life after Vince had been the one to order his death.
Is this truly who you were now?
The thought did not last long, as you shoved it deep down and locked it in the same room in your mind where you kept that little girl sleeping in front of an unopened door, waiting for her parents. You did what you had to in order to survive. You had no choice.
How much longer would that lie placate you?
“I have been thinking,” Vince began again, stopping near the far wall of his office where a massive box covered with a large cloth sits. He removed his arm from your shoulders and stepped back to face you, “There is no one in this organization that I trust more than you.”
You blinked in surprise, the words slamming through you.You did not quite know how to feel when your trained eyes examined his features and expression and saw that he meant it, saw that he looked at you as a father would their child. Vince had trained you to see tells in a person’s face, and you saw none in his.
“You honor me, boss.”
Vince took a moment to simply examine your face, his eyes seeming to search for something. When he seemed to not find it, a small, real smile began on his lips.
“I have one more assignment for you,” Vince informed, that smile growing as he took another step back and closer to the covered box, “And if you succeed, I want to make you my Second.”
The world seemed to stop spinning for a moment. Your eyes widened a fraction, your mouth dropping open the slightest bit. His Second, he wanted to make you his Second.
“But that would mean…” You trailed off, your eyes desperately searching for a tell of a lie on his face. You found none.
“You would take over for me when I retire.” Vince finished for you.
“Vince, I couldn’t-”
“Yes, you could.” His interruption was accompanied by a hand to your shoulder, “You have earned this, my Prodigy. You deserve this.”
His Second. You would lead this organization one day, you would be the next Vince Hanon. You would have power and control. No more would you have to fear for the next meal or the next morning. You’d be safe, in control, in power. You could change the way this was run, maybe even do some good.
This was the answer to the nagging in your chest, the horror in your soul. You could have a shot at redemption for all that you’ve done.
“Thank you, boss.” You whispered hoarsely, your voice not hiding an ounce of your emotion. Vince nodded and stepped back, those calculating eyes sweeping over your figure.
“Just one more assignment, child. One more, and it’s all yours.”
“Anything.” Your response was stronger this time, your eyes holding a hope that hadn’t been there since you were a child.
“A recent debtor repaid his debt. I need you to take care of it.” Vince’s words barely registered in your mind. All you could think of was your freedom. Then he pulled the cloth off of the box, and you realized it wasn’t a box at all.
It was a cage.
With a small gasp, your mind snapped back to this moment. The freedom you’d almost been able to taste came crashing down, and that horror roared in your soul so loudly that you actually stumbled back a step.
There was a child in that cage, a little girl who looks to be the same age that you were all those years ago.
“But you…you stopped selling to the Trade,” Your voice was a breath, your words ringing with terror.
“I did,” Vince conceded, stroking a hand along the cage’s bars and making the young girl in it recoil back as far as she could in the cramped space, “And my profits since have taken a steep drop. If I am to cement your future, I need to build up our reputation and savings again. I need to make sure every crime syndicate from here to the Outer Rim knows not to mess with us, with you.”
You were shaking your head, your heart racing and your mind fraying apart as if you hadn’t spent the entirety of your life fortifying it and trying desperately to forget.
“I can’t,” You gasped, shaking your head and taking back a step, “I can’t-”
“Yes you can,” Vince soothed, stepping up to you and holding your arms, “You’re ready for this. Think of everything this could bring you.”
Oh you were. As you stared into that scared little girl’s eyes, it was all you could think about. You were stuck awfully between flashes of your abandonment and what your future would look like if you did this one last assignment. The loneliness in the empty house, the empire you could build. The hunger that had set in after a week alone, the security of always having another meal. The betrayal that had burrowed deep in your chest, the power you could fill its hole with.
“She’s just another trade, a simple barter. Nothing more than the deed to a home.” Vince’s voice was an echo of your thoughts, the devil on your shoulder.
It would be so easy, so easy. After everything that you had been through, why should you care how your safety and freedom was bought? You deserved it, your life has been anything but fair. It would be easy. One trade, and the world, the very galaxy, would be in the palm of your hands.
But would your soul ever recover? Would you ever be able to look at yourself in a mirror again? You knew what happened to little girls who went into the trade, for being in this business you knew all too well of the perversions of the people in this galaxy.
Could you live with this?
Vince saw the flash of an answer in your eyes a moment too late.
The knife was already in your hand and thrown by the time Vince had just begun to open his mouth and shout for his guards. The knife lodged into his shoulder even though you’d been aiming for something more lethal. It was enough to stop him from rushing you, though. You sped forward and tackled him to the ground with every ounce of strength you had. His cry of pain was muffled by the hand you slapped over his mouth. In a quick move, you ripped the knife free from his shoulder and angled it at his throat.
Vince went as silent as death, his eyes wide with betrayal, with…with hurt.
Your chest squeezed painfully at the look in his eyes as you moved your hand from covering his mouth. He didn’t scream, he knew better, “My child, I’ve given you the world.”
His words were choked with tears, you realized suddenly. To your surprise, tears of your own gathered in your eyes.
“I’m not your child,” You whispered, clenching your jaw to keep your resolve, “And I don’t want the world if this is what it costs.”
There was a flash of rage in his eyes, and it made your stomach drop. You’d seen it before, but never directed at you.
“You do this,” His words were calculated and controlled, barely veiling his growing anger, “And I will never stop hunting you. I will show you just what I spared you from when you were a child.”
Something broke within your chest at the thought, but for the first time since seven years old, you weren’t shoving down guilt to do something. You could feel your heart open and free, your soul resting for once, and you knew that this was what you had to do. You need to be able to live with yourself, even if it means you lived a short life.
You are better than this, than everything you have done to survive.
You aren’t a kid anymore. You have a choice.
“So be it,” You murmured, and then slammed the handle of the knife against Vince’s temple. He was out cold as soon as the blow was delivered, which was surprising in itself. That move had never worked before for you. You’re glad it had now, because as you stood and moved away from the magenta-skinned Crime Lord, you realized that this was freedom.
You’re free now, and it was better than the freedom that you would have bought with the trading of your soul.
Without another thought to the consequences of your actions, you turned and sprinted over to the cage where the little girl sat crouched as far as she could in the corner. Her eyes were wide with fear and confusion and hope as she looked up at you.
“I’m not gonna hurt you,” You soothed, stooping down in front of the cage and looking at the lock.
Once you saw the shape of the key needed, you stood and jogged to Vince’s massive desk. It only took a few moments of searching before you snagged the key from under a stack of papers and forms.
A knock sounded on the massive steel door, but it thankfully remained closed, “Everything alright in there?”
Your pulse spiked dangerously and your heart missed a beat.
“Everything’s fine, lackeys,” You responded coolly, almost sounding bored, “Vince had to grab something from his chambers.”
This seemed to placate them, and you’re relieved that Vince’s chambers are attached to his office through a door at the very back. Knowing time was running out, you sprinted to the cage and crouched once more. Your fingers trembled as you undid the lock and threw the door open. The girl sat pressed into the far corner, and you let out a panicked breath as you extended a hand out to her.
“Come on, kid. We don’t have much time left.”
She examined your hand for an agonizingly long moment before realizing you weren’t going to hurt her. To your relief, she quickly took your outstretched hand and crawled out as fast as she could. You kept her hand in yours and tugged her towards the door at the back wall that leads to Vince’s room.
“How are we going to get out?” She mumbled. You pressed the button beside the door and it slid open easily, revealing a room of black silk and deep emerald walls. Tugging the girl in, you shut the door and made sure to press the lock button before pulling her towards the wall beside Vince’s bed.
You released her hand for a moment as you approached the massive painting that rested on the wall. Your fingers searched the edges desperately until they found a small button.
“Vince showed this to me when I was your age,” You panted, pushing the button and swinging the painting aside, “He kept it for a quick escape if the compound was ever raided.”
A large, dark hole was in the wall behind the painting—a chamber that led directly to the back of the compound. The young girl shook her head slightly, her eyes going wide as she peered into the dark reaches of the cavernous chamber.
“I can’t,” She whispered, her voice trembling, “It’s too scary, I can’t. I-”
Before you could even console her, the sound of a fist pounding on the steel door to the office in the other room echoed through the walls, “Boss, you in there? What’s going on?”
Your heart nearly stopped and you knew the guards, as stupid as they were, would notice the silence soon enough. Swirling back to the young girl, you did not wait for her response before you hoisted her into your arms and put her into the escape passageway. Thankfully, the girl had the sense to remain quiet despite her obvious trepidation as she waited in the dark for you to climb in after her. Once you had, you closed the painting as quietly as you could just as you heard the office being raided.
It was only a matter of time before they would see Vince unconscious and venture into his bedroom beyond. You had to move, and fast.
“Come on,” You urged, finding the girl’s hand in the dark and tugging her down the passageway. As you moved down a flight of stairs, you pressed the small button on your metal bracelet, releasing a soft glow of light bright enough to illuminate your next steps and banish the girl’s fear of the dark.
“Will they find us?” She panted, her small hand gripping yours tightly.
“They shouldn’t,” You replied, your eyes straining into the dark beyond the small glow of your bracelet as you took turns and twists and more passages to the depths of the compound, “Vince only told me about the passage.”
Even though that should have eased the girl’s tension, her grip on your hand did not relax. It took a few minutes of deep silence before she finally spoke again.
“You really were his favorite,” She breathed, a certain tremor in her voice. You could practically feel the weight of her large eyes burning into the side of your face.
For some reason, her words knocked you on your ass. This young girl knew who Vince Hanon was before she was taken by him, and she knew enough to have heard about you. Was this how the galaxy saw you? As Vince Hanon’s adopted daughter?
The thought made you shudder.
“Why did you betray him for me?” She asked into the thick silence, and a pang shot through your chest.
Your feet faltered, and you stopped the breakneck pace you’d been going at. With a trembling breath, you turned and looked back at the young child. The light from your bracelet lit up the contours of her face, the tear stains etched into her skin and the trauma haunting her young, innocent gaze.
“Because I was you a long time ago.” You swallowed, sudden tears swimming in your gaze as you took in the small child who nearly met such a cruel fate, “Because Vince saved me, and there was no one to save you.”
The words stung some deep, confused part of your chest. A part of you would always…be indebted to Vince. He was the holder of your chains, the destroyer of your moral compass, the tyrant of your life. But, no matter how much you tried to forget it, he saved you. He saved you when your own father would not, and he raised you as his own.
Some twisted part of you would always pity him, even though you knew you shouldn’t.
That’s why, without a word, you smiled sadly at the girl before turning and leading her the rest of the way out of the passage.
|||
The entire city was on high alert.
Moments after the girl and you emerged from the escape passageway and into a back alley miles from the compound, you heard the shouts and the sirens in the distance. Vince had run this city with an iron fist, he did not tolerate betrayal and the people knew that. But now, the King of Crime had been crossed by his own Prodigy.
Every goon he had working for him was now hunting for you.
Doors were shut and windows locked. The streets were empty and the last few stragglers were in no rush to speak to anyone they did not have to. Even now, only a few minutes after the crime had been announced publicly, Vince’s guards swarmed the streets, pounding on doors and demanding entry for searches.
“They’re everywhere,” The young girl you saved panted as you sprinted with her down back alleys and through abandoned shops, “Where will we go?”
“I still have some friends,” You assured in response, stopping suddenly at the back door of a normal, unassuming home miles down from where Vince’s guards were searching. Without pausing to explain to the girl, you pounded your fist desperately against the door. There was a rush of steps before an old, hoarse voice called out.
“We are closed to visitors right now. Come back later.”
“It’s me,” Is all you said in response.
The old fashioned door swung open almost instantly. You had to squint against the sudden flood of light until you could just make out the older woman who stood in the doorway peering down at you and the girl with calculating eyes. She swung her gaze between the terrified child and you before she finally let out a long sigh.
“You finally did it,” She mused, catching your gaze with a knowing look.
“He asked something of me I couldn’t do,” You informed, trying to sound detached even though your entire heart was upon your sleeve, “And I need your help.”
Behind the old woman, children zoomed back and forth of all species and ages. They laughed and played jovially, unaware of the chaos outside. This place was an Orphanage, one you visited quite often with what little money you had left after Vince’s paychecks. You never allowed the Orphanage Keeper to tell you her name for her own sake, but she’d made it clear that she would be at your service should you ever need it.
You needed it now.
The Keeper looked down at the young girl who still held your hand in a tight grip and hummed, “She’ll fit right in, the guards won’t even know the difference.”
Relief broke over you, and you turned from The Keeper to stoop down in front of the confused child.
“What’s happening?” The young girl interrogated, her voice quivering.
“This place is safe for you, The Orphanage Keeper will take good care of you. She’ll make sure you find a home and lead a normal life.”
She caught on to your tone quickly, realizing you were going to leave her here. She began to shake her head and back up from the doorway, “No, you can’t leave me. Please don’t leave me!”
Your heart shattered. Those words had haunted your own soul since you were just as old as she is. They’ve bounced around in your memories in ways you’ll never be able to put into words. To hear them come from her…Tears you did not try to hide fought their way to your gaze as you grasped the young girl’s shoulders.
“They won’t look for you, they’ll be too busy hunting me. As long as you’re near me, you will not be safe,” You explained, smiling sadly at the girl and tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear, “We’ll see each other again, I just know it”
The girl sniffled, but nodded and slowly stepped away from you. The Keeper smiled down at the child, extending her hand, “Come, little one. Go on inside, I’ll be in soon to show you where you’ll be staying.”
With one last look back at you, the young girl turned and walked into the Orphanage. You stood slowly, watching her retreat into the building of laughing children. When she didn’t look back to you after that, you knew that she’d survive, that she’d make it.
“I have a ship. It’s old and hasn’t been run in ages, but it’ll get you off-world.”The Keeper’s rushed words snapped you back to reality and you looked up at her. Nodding, you ran a hand through your hair and gathered yourself back together.
“Don’t go to the Outer Rim,” The Keeper continued, rummaging through the small compartment by the door before she pulled out a small bag, “He’ll look there first. Try Coruscant, it’s swarming with New Republic. Vince wouldn’t dare go there.”
You nodded swiftly, your mind swimming with the rising surrealness of the perilous situation. Before you could turn and leave into the dark of night, The Keeper stepped forward and pressed the small bag into your palm. With furrowed brows, you looked down to your hand to inspect the small gift. Realizing exactly what was inside, you gazed back up at the woman sharply with wide eyes.
“You can’t give this to me, I can’t take this. It’s too much,” You rambled, trying to push the bag of credits back to The Keeper. She simply closed her weathered hands around yours and pushed the bag back towards you with a smile.
“This does not even begin to make up for all of the support you’ve given me over the years,” She rasped, tears glistening in her eyes as she realized exactly what you already know.
This was goodbye. You would not see her again.
“Thank you,” You breathed, knowing if you spoke any louder you'd be choking on tears. You were thanking The Orphanage Keeper for more than the credits in your hand. Through the years, no matter what horrors you committed for Vince and his gang, this Orphanage always reminded you of the light that still flickered in your soul. It reminded you that you were good.
“May the Force be with you,” The Keeper blessed, and your heart squeezed at the unfamiliar words.
“And with you.”
Then you turned and ran into the night, leaving behind the light of the Orphanage and its Keeper for good. It wasn’t long before you made it to the ship The Keeper told you about, and it’s even less time before you’re shooting up into the atmosphere and leaving the planet behind. As you set the ship’s coordinates to Coruscant, your mind raced.
How far will Vince go to get you back? To repay your betrayal in blood as you knew he would?
Before you could even come up with an answer of your own, the bracelet on your wrist beeped with an incoming message. You extended your hand out before you, brows furrowed and pulse slowly picking up. The hologram that lit up in your palm knocked the breath from your lungs and sent your heart into a dangerous rhythm.
The crackling hologram was simple and straightforward, projected not directly towards you, but to every known crime syndicate member and bounty hunter.
It was a picture of your face, your lips turned up at the very edge in the beginning of a smile. The words below sealed your fate.
“Y/N Y/L/N—WANTED ALIVE
BOUNTY—2 MILLION NEW REPUBLIC CREDITS”
|||
The wind cracked like a whip against your skin as you ran.
“You can’t run forever!” The shrill, sardonic shout of the Hunter made your fear spike as you sprinted through the crowded streets of Coruscant.
You would think that a New Republic-crowded planet like this one would mean at least one bystander extended their help as you so clearly ran for your life. Even these citizens and their senators knew the price of your bounty, though, and they did not raise a finger to help you.
Probably the entire force of the Guild was after you considering how high Vince was willing to pay to get you back. With that high a bounty, odds were that no one was going to help you.
This particular Hunter was alone, a grateful difference from the last few that had come after you. Most had decided to come in groups and split the bounty, which made them much more difficult to elude considering you weren’t the stealthiest person alive.
You ran desperately through the crowd that parted for you. Eventually you’d have to go back into the peril of open, abandoned areas, so you took advantage of the crowd as much as you could. You could see the end of the crowd in the distance, though, and knew that it was only a matter of time before the chase was just you and the Hunter and a stretch of open space between.
As you shoved through the last of the crowd that had kept the Hunter from firing his stun shots, you heard his voice ring out through the air, “No more hiding, sweetheart!”
Your eyes scanned desperately for another way out, for an escape plan or any plan really. Not having much of a choice, you took a hard right and sprinted into an alley. As a show to your incredibly bad luck, you found it to be a dead end.
“Shit!” You panted, turning so fast on your heel that your shoes groaned against the pavement. You stumbled to a quick halt as you found the panting Bounty Hunter blocking your way out.
“Vince Hanon wants you alive,” He mused, a slow smile spreading across his lips, “He didn’t say how alive.”
The Hunter raised his stun blaster and fired, but you’re expecting it and have already dive-rolled to the side. The shot soared past you, crackling as it did, and you wasted no time to see how close it came before you were on your feet and charging at the Hunter. With a war cry, you shoved the Hunter with your entire body weight before he could get another shot out. He grunted as he crashed into the wall, leaving the exit open for you to sprint out.
You did so with a pounding heart, your mind racing to come up with as many plans as you can. You raced down the sparsely populated street, your mind speeding for a solution.
If I can just make it into an outlet, then I-
A crackling fire erupted in your back and exploded across the entirety of your body. With a cry of pain, you dropped to the floor and could barely move your head to see the blue energy crackling across your being. Your body convulsed under the stun shot, momentarily paralyzed.
No. No, no, no, no. This can’t be it.
The pounding of footsteps slowed as they approached your downed form. You looked up in rage and terror at the Bounty Hunter. He shoved his blaster back into its holster and shook his head down at you.
“What a pity,” He uttered, smiling that slick, nauseating smile again, “I was going to take it easy on you. But now?”
You thought quickly of everything you could offer the Hunter that was more valuable than two million credits. Desperation rang through you as you came up empty.
“Please,” Your voice shook pathetically at the last attempt to save yourself, and tears gathered in your eyes. You could feel your body slowly come back under your control and you slid back and away from the Hunter. You hated this, you hated begging for your life.
I can’t go back, was all you could think, I can’t let him have me again.
“I like it when you beg,” The Hunter mused, walking ever so slowly towards your downed, retreating form. He was taunting you, and you both knew it.
When he finally reached you, he crouched and grabbed you by your legs, sliding you towards him.
“No!” You bellowed, thrashing wildly in his grip as he pinned you with his weight, “You bastard! Let me go!”
All sense and reason had left you. Begging wasn’t going to work and it only made him happier, so you wouldn’t try it again. All you had left was a burning terror in your gut of what would happen if Vince got you back. So, you fought the Hunter with all of the fire you had left.
The first slam of his fist into your cheek made blood spray from your now-busted lip. He couldn’t secure both of your hands in time to stop you from clawing at his face. You couldn’t fight well, but you could do that. His shout of pain was music to your ears, but he quickly secured your fists with one hand and continued his onslaught with the other.
“Stupid bitch,” He panted between hits, making stars dance in your vision, “Barely worth the two million”
Those words shouldn’t have wounded you, but you couldn't stop the hurt that exploded in your chest. With unbridled emotions, you spit a mouthful of blood up at the Hunter. He reared back in disgust, wiping your blood off of his face and peering down at you in pure hate.
“Just for that,” Is all he said as he pulled out the stun blaster. Your eyes widened a fraction and you could barely turn your cheek to brace for impact when the sound of a blaster exploded through the air.
But it never hit you.
Suddenly, the weight of the Hunter on you slid off and you turned your head up to see him crumpling to the ground with a burning hole in his chest.
Pure dumb luck.
Hope bursted through you as you scrambled to your feet and delivered an extra kick to the corpse, spitting more of your blood down on him before wiping it off your mouth with the back of your hand. You glanced up, looking around curiously for the one who fired and saved you.
Your gratitude died when your eyes found him.
The world slowed to an almost stop as panic, real and true, constricted your chest. Shining, dark silver beskar gleamed at you in the burning afternoon sunlight. He stood like an angel of death not thirty paces from you. You knew who he was, everyone knew who he was in your line of work.
The Mandalorian. Perhaps the best Bounty Hunter in the Guild, and the most ruthless.
He wasn’t saving you, he was taking your bounty for himself.
You stumbled back, your entire body aching but your mind screaming at you to go, run!
The Mandalorian began to stalk towards you and you turned, breaking out into a desperate run. You could only limp, though, and you knew he’d be upon you before you could stop him. You glanced back as you continued your pathetic excuse for a run, and your heart missed a beat when you saw he had almost caught up to you. Turning your head back forward, tears swam in your vision.
No, your mind repeated again and again and again, No, no, no
You couldn’t outrun him, you couldn’t outsmart him, you couldn’t overpower him. You were done. You were done, and the desperation in your chest revealed that you knew it.
Your exhaustion almost overpowered your adrenaline and you stumbled into the wall of a nearby building, bracing yourself against it as you tried to keep moving. Practically feeling his domineering presence behind you, your eyes searched the building’s edge for a weapon. The best you could find was an abandoned speeder wrench. You grasped the long tool in your trembling hand and whipped around, swinging the wrench with all of the strength you had left.
Your heart faltered as the Mandalorian caught your wrist with ease, looking down at you with that emotionless, daunting helmet of beskar. His grip was tight, but not bruising, on your wrist, and you dropped the wrench. You watched his free hand grab a small device on his weapons belt, and you knew immediately it was some sort of stunning device similar to the other Hunter’s.
“Don’t do this.” You knew your plea fell on deaf ears, but you had to try, “Please don’t do this, I can’t go back.”
His head tilted down at you, but he didn't say a word. The warmth of his hand seeped through the gloves he wore and burned into your skin as he held your wrist. A tear slipped down your cheek, searing its path across your skin. You could feel yourself give up.
You’d been running alone for nearly a week and had barely slept a combined total of three hours. Your body couldn’t take anymore, your soul can’t take anymore.
“Just kill me,” You suddenly begged, another tear slipping down, “If you’re gonna bring me in, just kill me. Please kill me, please.”
This seemed to stun the Mandalorian, because his grip on your wrist loosened slightly. The hand holding the stun device stalled and you heard him take in a breath.
“What?” The word was so simple and so low that you almost missed it, but the rumble of his gruff, modulated voice struck to your very chest. There was something in that voice…something you couldn’t quite place.
Something that made you think he might honor your request, that he might listen.
“Kill me,” You pleaded again, bringing the hand he didn’t hold to press against his beskar chest plate, “Don’t let him have me alive, I’d rather die. Please kill me,”
There was a charge in the air between you two that confused you, and you blamed it on the delusions your panic was causing. With his hand still holding your wrist and your hand on the cool metal plating his chest, you practically leaned all of your exhausted weight onto him. You could barely stand anymore, and you shut your eyes, turning your head and waiting for his killing blow.
Death was better than Vince Hanon.
You waited and waited and waited, but the blow never came.
“I’m not going to kill you,” The Mandalorian murmured, his voice like gravel and deceivingly soothing to your soul. Pure desperation makes another tear slip down your cheek as you open your eyes that are so, so tired.
“No,” Is all you could make out, lifting your exhausted gaze to his helmet.
“I’m not gonna turn you in, either.”
His words sent a shot of confusion through your soul.
“What?” You breathed, your brows furrowed.
“I won’t turn you in,” The Mandalorian repeated, his voice sounding just as confused as you, but with an edge of a vow that made you believe him.
“Thank you,” You mumbled, the adrenaline that had kept you awake for nearly an entire week seeping out of your system, “Thank you”
It probably was not smart, but you couldn’t stop your body from giving in to the need to sleep. You collapsed, your eyes slipping shut and your mind already shutting down into that blissful abyss of rest. As your body slipped to the floor, you felt strong, warm arms catch you. Suddenly, you felt yourself being lifted and pressed into cool metal.
“I’ve got you,” The Mandalorian vowed, his voice uncertain but his soul remembering what it felt like trying to turn in the Child when he first hunted him down, “I’ve got you.”
The Mandalorian held your sleeping form close to his chest as he walked past the outskirts of the busy Coruscant town and near the shipyard where the Crest awaits. To be completely honest, he didn’t know what he was doing. He needed those credits, and it had been all too easy to find you considering how many Hunters were on your trail.
Din stood there in the shadows of an alleyway, watching that Hunter take you down and approach your convulsing body. He watched with a blaster raised, ready to take the Hunter out and then claim your bounty instead. Din watched as you fought like a hellcat to be free, watched you spit your blood up at the Hunter.
When he took out the Hunter, he wasn’t entirely sure if he’d done it to claim your bounty himself or save your life.
As he followed your limping form easily, not even having to run to catch up with you, he was so sure he’d collect your bounty. He had convinced himself he would, even after that familiar nagging of his conscience began.
Then Din caught you, and you begged for death.
Never before had a bounty done that, at least if he didn’t torture them for information first. Yet here you were, begging for death. Din had felt like a sort of Reaper as you sobbed and pleaded for your end, and suddenly he could not understand how the Reaper managed to fulfill those pleas.
In that moment, peering into your tear-filled eyes and seeing the desperation, the fear that wasn’t directed at him, Din couldn’t do it. He couldn't kill you, and he sure as hell couldn't turn you in to Vince Hanon.
So now here he was, carrying you to his ship with the intent of helping you escape.
It was stupid, Din knew that. He shouldn’t be doing this, he should have left you there on the street to fend for yourself. This wasn’t his problem. You weren’t his problem.But he just couldn’t. It was his biggest weakness, and everyone knew it. First with the kid, and now with you. Even now he couldn’t think of leaving you to fend for yourself, not as he looked down at your sleeping form cuddled into his chest as if you had never been held before.
Maybe you hadn’t, just as he hadn’t in a long while.
Ultimately, that was why Din let you cling to him in your oblivious sleep when he would have shoved almost anyone else off.
And it was in that moment that Din Djarin knew he was screwed.
|||
When you woke up, you didn’t recognize your room.
For a moment you stayed perfectly still, knowing that your memories would supplement the answer eventually. As you sat up slowly, you took in the cot you lay upon in the small room.
A ship, you determined.
That’s when the events of when you were awake came rushing back—the Bounty Hunter on Coruscant, nearly getting caught, the Mandalorian.
The Mandalorian…saving your life.
Why would a Bounty Hunter save you?
Instantly, doubt began to creep into your mind. Reason took over for desperation now that you were rested and in a Bounty Hunter’s ship. The Mandalorian was one of the best in the Guild, he would have said anything to get you onto his ship. He had to be on his way to Vince right now.
With a wary mind, you got off of the bed slowly. You tried to be as silent as possible, but failed horribly, as you crept out of the small room you were just sleeping in. As the door to the room slid open, you were met with the hull of a ship. It was relatively clean, but had small clusters of scrap metal and assorted belongings in corners of the room. To your right, as you glanced up, was a ladder leading to what had to be the cockpit.
He was probably up there right now.
Your breath was shallow, but you took your time to scan the ship warily. You paused upon a good-sized metal cabinet in the back. If there were any weapons in this ship, that’s where they would be. You walked up to the cabinet quietly, looking back towards the ladder to make sure the Mandalorian wasn’t coming down. As your fingers reached towards it, your mind was racing with plans.
You’d never beat him in any sort of combat, but if you could sneak up and surprise-
A choked gasp broke out of your mouth as a strong hand grabbed your shoulder and flipped you around. In an instant, you were pressed up against the metal cabinet with a beskar-coated arm barring your throat hard enough to keep you in place, but not enough to cut off your air supply.
“You really think that was gonna work?” He ground out, cocking his head down at you. Your chest was heaving with breath as you looked up at him, desperately trying to look tough.
“Did you really think I was going to let you deliver me to Vince without a fight?” You rasped back, your eyes lit with fire as you stared into the abyss of that beskar helmet.
“Deliver you to-” The Mandalorian stopped his sentence, sounding almost disgruntled as his arm loosened at your throat, “I told you I wouldn’t. I keep my promises.”
“How do I know that?” You countered, suddenly trying to ignore the burning heat of his arm against your throat, even with his armor in the way, “How do I know you’re not gonna say anything to keep me docile before delivering me to him?”
The Mandalorian stopped for a moment, but even as he did your words felt wrong. A part of you, deep within your chest, knew you could trust him. But you were raised to trust no one, so you ignored the intuition and stood your ground.
There was a thick silence as you waited for his response, but it was anything but silent. You were all too aware of how close his body was pressed to yours, of the heat that radiated off of him and the charge in the air.
“If I wanted to turn you into Vince Hanon, you’d already be there,” The Mandalorian finally reasoned, stepping back from you and dropping his arm as if he too realized the intimacy of your position, “You slept for two and a half days, you can check if you think I’m lying.”
A part of you wanted to check just to spite him, but as much as you hated to admit it, you believed him. You stayed with your back against the metal cabinet and observed the Bounty Hunter.
“Where are we going, then?” You inquired, the skepticism heavy in your tone.
“Serenno.” His reply was short and clipped, but you still visibly reacted.
“Serenno?” You retorted, already shaking your head, “That’s Outer Rim. I won’t-”
The Mandalorian cut you off, taking only one menacing step towards you, but it was enough to make your words die.
“You tried the populated, New Republic planet and obviously that didn’t work for you. Vince probably has men crawling through that sector now, so the Outer Rim is our best bet.”
Our? The word came off of his tongue so naturally that it struck a chord deep in your chest.
“I was advised to stay away from there. Vince has men patrolling for me there. Why would it be any better now?” You cut back.
“Because now you have me.”
He didn’t raise his voice, didn[t even sound pissed off, but there was something in his words that sent a chill running down your spine. An arrogant man would say those words carelessly, and you knew exactly what it sounded like coming from them. But The Mandalorian? He wasn’t arrogant. He was sure, and for reasons you didn’t want to unpack just yet, it made your heart miss half of a beat.
“If you’re gonna make it out of this, you have to trust me,” He followed up. You almost laugh.
“That’s not happening,” You quipped, but your eyes told a different story. You didn’t want to stroke his ego by telling him that he was already the most trustworthy person you’d met in years. “How are we going to make it out of this anyway?”
There it was again. We. Why had you said ‘we’?
“Only one way that I see,” The Mandalorian responded, turning from you and walking over to a corner of junk on his ship, “Kill Vince Hanon.”
He said it so casually, but it didn/t stop the words from choking you from within. That should have sat easily with you considering what he had almost made you do before you betrayed him. And yet, after everything, you couldn’t fully convince yourself you’d land a final blow if the time came.
There was a long silence, one that indicated the conversation was over. The Mandalorian turned to the ladder, ready to go back up to the Cockpit when you called out to him suddenly, almost desperately.
“Why are you helping me?”
He paused, his back to you as it had been for the last few minutes. He turned his head slightly in your direction, but didn't turn around.
“I don’t know,” He grunted out, then turned and went up the ladder.
He was lying, you knew it the second he spoke. Vince trained you to see tells, and you could see them even through his helmet. You didn’t have time to ponder why he really was helping you when another door near to the one you were sleeping in slid open.
You turned towards the noise, confusion and wariness springing up in your gut. You hadn’t known he had a crew, you had just assumed it was him alone in this ship.
So, considering that, surprise isn’t quite the right word to describe what flashed through you when you watched a child walk out of the room.
“What the-” You breathed, your words dying out on your own as the small, green toddler stopped outside of his room and looked up at you with massive, dark eyes.
Before you could even call out to the Mandalorian, you hear a rushed curse followed by the thud of his feet slamming against the ship’s flooring as he jumped from the ladder. Suddenly, the beskar-coated Bounty Hunter is storming over and scooping the child up into his massive arms.
“What are you doing out, kid?” He scolded softly, but even you could hear the tenderness in his voice—the mark of a father. At least, what you imagined a father would be like.
The child tilted his head up at the daunting, death-bringing Mandalorian and smiled, reaching out with his tiny hands out to the Hunter. You could hear The Mandalorian sigh in resignation, tucking the child close into his body, “You make it hard to be mad at you, kid. You know that?”
Watching this angel of Death, the Hunter who almost became your reaper, cuddle a small child to his chest with those hands scarred with blood and murder…you could feel your heart melting.
You knew instantly that you were in trouble, serious trouble.
The Mandalorian turned to you, holding the child close, “It seems I have a knack for sparing the bounties I’m given.”
Surprise skittered across your face as you took in the meaning in his words. Any small amount of doubt in your safety with this Mandalorian suddenly dissipated into ash. You’d never tell the Hunter that, but you couldn’t deny that his word was good. He said was going to help you, and that’s what he was going to do.
“Cute kid,” You managed to get out, not being able to stop the smile that grew onto your lips, “He’s lucky to have you for a father.”
The daunting, ever-stoic Mandalorian suddenly seemed to grapple with his words, and it takes more effort than you’d like to admit to keep the amused smile on your lips from turning into a laugh.
“I’m not his blood, I’m just watching out for him.” He finally settled on.
Something haunted and broken suddenly speared into your chest, and you knew from the way the Mandalorian’s back stiffened and head tilted that it passed across your face. With a smile that’s sad and built with years of heartache, you locked your gaze with the Bounty Hunter that spared you.
“A father isn’t always bound by blood,” You nearly whispered, breaking away from his gaze and reaching up to run a soft, caressing finger across the child’s large ear. He giggled, leaning into your touch. You smiled wider, this one less sad than before.
“He’s a lot to handle isn’t he?” You asked. The Mandalorian stiffened, seeming defensive.
“No. He’s actually-”
“I was talking about you, Mando,” You interrupted, looking away from the kid’s large eyes and up to the Mandalorian with a raised brow. He cocked his head down at you.
“Careful, I can still turn this ship around and take you to Vince,” He threatened, but you knew now that he never would. Somehow, you just knew that.
“Sure you will,” You taunted, smiling up at him before taking a step back from the kid who reached after you, “What’s your name anyways, Mandalorian? Or am I expected to call you Mando for the rest of our lovely time together?”
“Why would I give you that?” He asked, his voice like gravel and silk all at once. He was a siren and you were a sailor—blissfully doomed from the start.
“Because you already have mine,” You reasoned, alluding to the bounty he took on you, “It’s only fair.”
He paused for a moment that stretched on long enough for you to know that he wasn’t going to give it. You nodded in response, clicking your tongue “Mando it is.”
You turned, walking towards the ladder that led up to the cockpit. You made it up a few rungs when his voice stopped you.
“Din.”
You froze, taking a few seconds to comprehend what he just said. With your back to him, you didn’t stop the smile that grew onto your lips.
“Thanks for saving my ass, Din,” You called back, before continuing up the ladder. It was so soft that you almost missed it, but Din chuckled quietly to himself below. The sound traveled down your spine and turned your heart molten.
You definitely were in trouble.
Then again, you always loved trouble anyways.
|||
The sun hung low in the sky, slinging the last of its light across the tops of mountains and through the lush rainforests stretching between the settlements of Serenno. As you and Din left the Razor Crest in a clearing and trekked towards a nearby city, there was a smile you could not stop from breaking free.
It wasn’t long lasting, for the moment the illusion of peace settled over your shoulders, the Mandalorian’s words were quick to remind you of the truth.
“Stay close to me. Don’t wander off, don’t go anywhere on your own. Keep your eyes open, and if you see anything tell me.” His voice was low and even and perhaps the most daunting sound you’d ever encountered. There was something so dangerous in the smooth, controlled tone modulated by his mask. It almost made you nod in easy compliance.
“I think you’re forgetting I’m used to this life, Mando,” You insisted, walking harder than you’d like to admit to keep up with his pace as the two of you entered the city, “I don’t need you controlling my every step. I know how to take care of myself.”
“Yeah? That worked out so well for you on Coruscant.” Din fired back at you, his voice not even ratcheting up in volume an inch. He didn’t even look over at you as he sauntered down the main street of the city. As the two of you walked, every stare that slipped your way left just as swiftly when they caught sight of the Mandalorian.
“I survived longer on my own than most would. I’m not saying I don’t need your help, just that I’m not a child for you to boss around.”
That seemed to strike a chord in his chest as he suddenly stopped and grabbed ahold of your arm, tugging you to a stop so abruptly that you stumbled right into him. Din steadied you with a hand on either arm, holding you so close that you had to crane your neck up to meet his unflinching helmet peering down at you.
“You think you can make it without me? Go ahead, leave.” He growled, finally showing a touch of emotion in his voice. You lifted your chin to meet his gaze, trying to ignore that way your heart could not seem to find an easy rhythm this close to Din. His words sent ice shooting through your chest, but much to your surprise, you found fire dancing up to tangle with it. You didn’t know whether to be intimidated or infatuated with him in this moment, and that thought was what jolted you back to reality. You stayed silent in response, because you knew the truth.
You would be dead within hours without the Mandalorian.
“That’s what I thought,” Din gritted out, his eyes sweeping over your figure for another moment before he let you go and began to walk away, “Now come on. We need supplies.”
You followed hastily, your eyes scanning the city for signs of hunters tracking you. As you struggled to think of anything besides the impact of Din’s words on you, Din stormed as far ahead of you as he could without leaving you completely behind. All the while, Din was trying to shove down the relief that you hadn’t taken his words seriously and left. The words had come out of his mouth, but within, Din had been begging you to see through the lie that they already were.
What terrified Din most was that he had practically just met you and yet he knew exactly what you could become to him should he not be careful. It was a fact that was hard to ignore when he looked at you and realized that you were the sun and him the moon—a mere reflection of the beauty before him.
Din shook his head to rid the thought, but to no avail. Instead, he grew grumpier and tried to increase the space between the two of you.
Trying to diffuse the tension, you jogged up to stay close to the Mandalorian and sighed, “So, what do we need to get?”
“Food, blankets, ammunition, anything else we’ll need to camp out here for a while,” Din responded. And, without even looking over at you, he spoke again.
“And we need to get you new clothes.”
You scoffed in surprise, looking down at your bloody and torn clothes. He was right, but it didn’t make you any less angry about it. You stormed after him, your fists clenched.
“You’re one to talk, Mando.” You retorted, catching up to him in time to hear his low chuckle. Immediately, your poor, unknowing heart stumbled at the sound and you found yourself once again, unable to be angry with the Bounty Hunter.
“That was a joke,” You realized, looking over at Din with surprised eyes, “Since when do you make jokes?”
He didn’t respond to that, just kept leading the way deeper into the town, “Get a move on, trouble. Can’t spend too long in town considering your luck.”
You followed with a small smile on your lips. It took hours to gather all that you needed to camp out on Serenno, and when Din finally began to turn and head back to the Crest, you almost cried in relief. Your arms ached with all of the wares you helped carry, and you were well past the exit of the city when Din finally began to explain to you the plan.
“We’ll hide out here for now. It’s quiet enough,” He assured, the Razor Crest coming into view as the two of you delved into the dense rainforest just before the clearing where it was parked, “Once we come up with a solid plan to take out Vince, we’ll move.”
Once again, the notion of ‘taking out’ the Zeltron who raised you struck you harder than it should have. You were able to hide it earlier, but as you exited the last of the trees obscuring the Crest, Din did not miss the way you went uncharacteristically silent. He didn’t say anything at first, and you thought he might let it go. As the two of you boarded the Crest and dropped the supplies onto the floor, the kid walked out of the room his crib sat in and looked up at you with wide, excited eyes. You couldn’t help but smile.
“Hello there,” You cooed, stooping down and picking him up, “Glad to see you missed me already.”
The child giggled in response, babbling some nonsense that you couldn’t quite understand. You felt the Mandalorian’s presence before you saw him, especially with how the attention of the child immediately switched to over your shoulder. You turned, not even meeting Din’s stare as you handed him his kid. The little one went happily, grabbing onto his caretaker as if he were anything but a feared Bounty Hunter. You smiled at the child before turning and walking with the clothes Din had bought you to your makeshift room to change. Before you could make it in, though, his voice called out to you.
“You don’t want to kill him.” Not a question, a statement.
So much for that.
Confliction tearing through you, you turned around and faced the Mandalorian and his child once again. Your eyes darted from the Mandalorian’s beskar helmet to the small child he held so close in his arms, and then back again. You could do little to hide the brokenness lingering in your gaze.
“I know it’s wrong,” You whispered, not fully understanding why you were being so vulnerable with this stranger, “I hate him. It should be easy to want him dead. It would solve all of my problems. But…”
The words you couldn’t say spoke just as loudly in silence as they would have in the air.
For a moment, you feared Din would push the matter and force the truth of your past out. Instead, he sighed and set down the kid, “Get changed. I’ll have a meal ready when you’re done.”
And that was that. He turned and walked away, going to do as he said. You stared for a moment in surprise that quickly shifted into a deep gratitude that spilled into your aching chest cavity. Din hadn’t forced you to say anything. He’d seen you were uncomfortable and he had let it go.
This Mandalorian was not who you thought he was, who he looked to be at first glance. With every passing day you spent with him, you realized your first impression could not have been further from the truth. With every day, you were proven more wrong about him in the best way possible.
And with every day, you wished you weren’t wrong at all.
Because how were you supposed to leave him in the end if you kept finding reasons to want to stay?
|||
It had now been weeks since you’d joined Din and the two of you had settled on Serreno.
In order to continue funding living while the two of you grappled with the best way to stop Vince and his bounty on you, Din had taken up a few smaller, low-profile bounties. He was careful not to pick up anything too forward since Vince had most likely noted by now that the two of you were together considering the debacle of Coruscant all those weeks ago.
And every time he went on a hunt, you found a way to join him.
At first, it was surprisingly easy to convince the Mandalorian to let you accompany him on his hunt. You’d claimed it was for your safety and that it was best to be with him whenever you could. After the first few, though, Din grew reluctant to let you come. He now considered the hunts more dangerous than staying in the Crest with the Child. You were running out of excuses to go with him, because you would not dare tell him the truth.
You wouldn’t dare to imagine the pity spreading across his face beneath that daunting mask that had become almost home to you when he found out the truth. In the time you’d spent together, you had fallen into a sort of routine. Wake up, plot and plan, go into town for hunts, execute those hunts. He’d taught you basic combat skills, his gloved hands leaving traces of fire where they corrected your form, and Din had even begun to eat in front of you, just lifting up the bottom of his mask to do so and allowing you to see his strong jaw and lips.
Those lips would haunt you night after night in dreams you could no longer control. To put a long story short, you’d grown attached. Hopelessly attached. And now, you couldn't help but be terrified of him leaving and not returning.
Just as your parents had all those years ago.
The fear was irrational and you knew it. Din was a man of his word and he’d promised you he would see you through this bounty and so you knew that he would. And yet, with the attachment that had grown rather quickly between the two of you, so too grew a fear of losing someone you lo-
Your thoughts stalled on the next word, and with a bolt of butterfly-filled fear in your gut, you amended the word.
Care for. A fear of losing someone you care for.
After all, if your parents—the only people in the galaxy who were meant to love you unconditionally—could leave you, so could the Mandalorian.
Your thoughts were once again interrupted by the sound of Din walking out of his chambers, adjusting a piece of his beskar armor. He struggled with the piece, cursing it out roughly beneath his breath as an amused smile traipsed onto your lips.
“Need some help?” You called out, lifting an eyebrow at him. His gaze snapped to yours and he huffed.
“No,” He rumbled. You hummed, standing to your feet and walking over to him.
“Sure you don’t.” You did not wait for him to object as you grabbed his shoulders and shoved him down into a chair nearby and began to work on the beskar shoulder plate.
“I can do it,” Din informed rather defeatedly.
You laughed softly, “I know you can, big guy.”
Your fingers worked with the plate of metal until you realized he had strapped it on wrong. Swiftly and deftly, you removed it and were just about to replace it when you noticed a jagged cut in his shirt beneath. The cut revealed a patch of tanned skin with an equally long and jagged cut on it that was now red and inflamed. You sucked in a breath sharply.
“What the hell Din? Why didn’t you mention you got hurt on the hunt yesterday?” You pressed, quickly setting down the beskar plate and rushing for a med kit, “It’s probably infected by now!”
“I can barely feel it,” Din defended, but surprisingly stayed in the chair as you grabbed the kit you were looking for and jogged back over to him, “Besides, I was going to put some bacta spray on it later and-”
“Bacta, really?” You cut in, shaking your head at the bounty hunter, “Is that your solution to everything? Put bacta on it?”
He shrugged, “Worked so far.”
Shaking your head, you grumbled your disapproval as you peeled back his shirt to see the extent of the laceration on his arm. Noting that it wrapped around slightly to the front, you moved to stand before the seated Mandalorian to get a better access to the cut. As your fingers danced along the injury, his skin was impossibly hot to your touch.
Because of a fever, you convinced yourself as you opened the med kit and looked around for a surface to set it down on. Noticing your search, Din patted his lap with his hand.
The movement made you actually stutter for a moment. It was a harmless offer, but the sight of it sent shockwaves tumbling through you. With a clouded mind, you set down the med kit on his thigh on the side opposite to his injured arm. He kept the kit braced with his free hand as you stepped between his legs to get closer to his injured arm.
You wished you could say that you didn’t even notice the position as you began to apply disinfectant to the cut, but it seemed to be the only thing on your mind. Din’s body heat bolted into you with how close you were to him and the scent of his soap that still lingered along his body dizzied your mind and reminded you of star-filled nights and rustling trees.
As you looked away from the injury and to the med kit, you grabbed the stitching needle and expertly began to suture his cut closed. You threaded the first stitch through his skin swiftly and without warning, making him suck in a sharp breath before you and instinctively grab onto your lower waist with the hand not bracing the med kit.
You gasped softly at the unexpected contact and looked down, an apologetic look crossing your distracted, breathless features, “Sorry, should’ve warned you.”
Din shook his head, clearing his throat, “No, I’m good. Keep going.”
Yet his hand lingered on your waist.
As you began to stitch up his cut, every free part of your mind was centered on that large, strong hand that rested ever so lightly on your waist. When you were about halfway through the stitch, the tense silence was finally broken.
“Where did you learn how to do all this?” Mando asked, his voice sounding ever so slightly strained.
“Whenever Vince’s fighters would come back from missions, I’d help patch them up where I could. Our healer trained me in a few vital skills while he worked,” You narrated, your voice airy and light as your fingers worked with the needle, “I was always good with the difficult cases because I’d tell them stories while we worked and it kept them distracted. I never could fight well, but I sure as hell could talk.”
“I know you can,” Din mumbled, making a surprised laugh break through you. You looked down at him, peering into the dark reaches of his beskar helmet that looked up at you.
“Careful teasing me, Mando. I’m the one with a needle in your arm.”
He released a low, soft laugh and his hand on your waist tightened the smallest bit. That was the end of the conversation, but it was the beginning of something else entirely. No longer did your attraction live chiefly in your dreams plagued with beskar and a voice so alluring it haunted you. You were awake, and you were sure you’d never been awake until this moment.
It was too much—the attraction, the tension, the dependency you were beginning to build up for him.
Din Djarin was like the hit of a drug or a breath of sweet air or the touch of nectar to the tongue—now that you’d known him, felt him, heard his laugh, you could never want for anything but him and it would never be enough until you had more.
“All done,” You whispered, putting the med kit back together and closing it. With the wound dressed and his beskar plate in place, Din stood from his perch before you could step back. The hand he had at your waist stayed there for a moment, keeping you from running away.
With his hulking presence before you and the way he peered down at you silently through his beskar helmet, you nearly forgot your own name. Your breaths were shallow and your heart raced in its cage of bones. Standing there, looking up at Din with your chest almost touching his, you knew.
You knew that when this was over, you couldn’t leave him. You wouldn’t leave him. You were suddenly unaware of how you’d gone the entirety of your life without him, let alone how you’d continue it after this was over. You felt as if Din was tethered to the breath in your lungs, the beat of your heart, the firing of your thoughts.
And for the life of you, you could not figure out how such a deep, ardent connection had taken root in your soul for someone you’d only known for a few months. It did not make sense, and somehow that was the beauty of it. These feelings were not explainable or rational, they were anything but. And that thrilled you just as much as it made you frightened that he’d walk out the door just like your parents had.
You wouldn’t recover from it this time.
“Din-”
You were cut off by the sound of the small, green child waddling up to the two of you and babbling something you could not understand. As if a knife had quartered down the moment between Din and you, the both of you stepped back instantly. His hands left your waist and yet you could still feel the phantom of their touch.
Din sighed as he stooped down and gathered the kid in his arms, “I know kid, we gotta get you something to eat.”
“I swear that child has the largest appetite,” You mused, a smile lighting your lips as you looked at the vulnerable youngling in the rough, intimidating arms of the Mandalorian.
For a moment, you wondered what it felt like to be in his arms, held close and safe like that.
“What are we gonna do with him for the hunt this afternoon?” You inquired, turning and securing the blaster Din had gotten you onto your belt, “And don’t even start the lecture on how we should be getting serious about our Vince planning. I know it seems like I’m being avoidant but if I just had a little more time then…”
You allowed your voice to trail off when you noticed the different kind of silence filling the crest. With furrowed brows, you turned to see Din tucking in the child to his crib. A sigh sounded from his modulator as he stepped back and checked his weapons, not even being able to look up to your gaze.
“Din?”
He paused, and the silence made your stomach twist. Finally, he looked up at you, “I need to do this hunt alone.”
For a moment, your brain would not grasp to compute the words, “What?”
“This is a dangerous one, and I’d feel better if you were here keeping the kid safe until I have it done.”
It took every ounce of your energy to restrain the panic that immediately roared to life in response to the trauma-triggering words. The timing could not be worse for this conversation, not when you’d just been reminiscing on how haunted you were that he would walk just like your parents had.
You managed to keep your face void of the telling emotions brewing within and shook your head, “Don’t be silly, Mando. If it’s really that dangerous, then I’ll just come with you.”
“No,” He urged, his voice stronger this time as he took a step closer to you, “I need you and the kid safe. I can’t ensure that if you’re out with me on a hunt like this.”
“I can hold my own,” You argued, trying and failing to keep the desperation from leaking into your voice, “I’ll just go with you and-”
“It is not safe for you out there. Vince’s bounty on your head keeps ratcheting up and everytime you leave this ship, your chances of being caught grow. I cannot risk that.” Din cut in, and even though he was grappling to keep the intense worry within his gut from spilling out, you were hopelessly battling the trauma-ingrained panic of what his words meant to you.
He might have been looking out for your safety, but your irrational mind was already jumping to conclusions and you could not stop it. After all, Din had no ties to you besides a promise built on a foundation of good will and blind trust. What would really stop him from finding another ship and leaving you here? The Razor Crest was an aging ship anyways, and he had more than enough credits for an upgrade.
“I’ll be back before you know it,” Mando assured, walking past you and towards the hatch that was now lowering and opening to the outside, “It shouldn’t take me all night, but if it does, don’t come hunting for me. I can’t risk you being caught.”
“Din, please don’t-”
Your words died as he walked down the hatch and off into the mid afternoon light.
“Please don’t leave me,” You whispered to yourself.
If he’d spared just one moment to look at your face, Din would have seen the anguish there. He hadn’t looked, though, because something had changed so fundamentally within the bounty hunter when he’d stood so close to you just moments ago.
Din had peered down at you, taking in the beauty of your face and your very soul, and had realized the extent of what he’d do for you. More accurately, Din had realized that there were no limits to what he’d do, give, endure to ensure your safety. He’d always been a natural protector, but this was different. You were different. And Din knew that one more look into your haunted eyes would have him setting course for whatever shithole Vince Hanon lived in and slaughtering him just so you could live with a peace of mind.
So Din kept walking, and left you in the Crest. He left you, not knowing that you did not believe he’d come back. He left you, unaware that you were already beginning to fray with the lies your mind was bellowing down upon you.
He left you, and all you could think about was what would happen if you never saw him again.
Hey everyone, I’m literally so sorry I’ve been MIA for a little while. It’s finals week for me in my last semester of college right now and once this is over I’ll be free to respond to ALL of your amazing requests because I treasure literally ALL OF THEM! I don’t want to write anything right now because I know it will be rushed and subpar to the writing standard I hold myself to for all of you. I love you all so much and I can’t wait to have school over with so I can write to my heart’s content 🤍🤍🤍 I promise, the wait will be worth it!
I got the most beautiful request for Din x reader and was in the middle of responding to it when my lovely computer glitched and got rid of the whole thing 😭
Currently sobbing considering how good it was, but never fear! I am still going to write the fic it requested. The request was something like this:
Mandalorian gets you as his bounty and tracks you down, but doesn't carry it out because he empathizes suddenly. For reasons he cannot understand, Din saves you and becomes your reluctant protector.
I absolutely ADORE the reluctant protector trope, so to my lovely anonymous, I will be delivering with this one and hopefully soon. Look forward to seeing it! I'm so excited to get back to writing since I'm on my spring break and life is good for once.
Summary: It's been months since you stowed away on the Mandalorian's ship, running from the ghosts of a past you'd rather forget. You shouldn't have fallen in love, you knew better than to get close, and now you have to pay the penance for your sins. Your past has come back to haunt, and you're his next bounty.
A/N: Really really proud of this one. Should have been studying, but was doing this lol so you all better enjoy. As always, requests are open and I'll get to them when I can because college is insane. Love you all dearly, hope you have a great day wherever you are 🤍
Warnings: violence, sexual themes and suggestive content, mentions of blood, fem!reader, angst, fluff, happy ending I promise (i only like hurting you a little bit, not enough to take away the happy ending)
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No one can run from their past forever.
Lies, secrets, sins—they all have a nasty habit of breaking through the thin soil they've been buried beneath and rearing their heads. What was left behind never stays gone, but rather skitters behind in waiting for the right moment to revive. The past haunts, it stays connected to the essence of a soul and refuses death itself until its dues have been paid.
No one can run from their past forever, not even after you'd almost forgotten it was lurking right there.
And yet, the reason you'd nearly forgotten was laying unconscious in the midst of a hunt he'd dragged you along on.
"Mando, if you're done dreaming of me I could use some backup!" You shout, barely avoiding the clawed fist of the Trandoshan mercenary before you. The bounty was stronger and deadlier than you, but you were faster.
As you danced and weaved around his blows, your eyes slipped to your Mandalorian still unconscious from where the Trandoshan had snuck up on the two of you. This job was supposed to be simple, but even lower grade mercenaries like the one fighting you were still deadly.
With a breath of frustration slipping your lips, your mind quickly raced to try and work out how to get out of this situation. Mando clearly would be no help and while he often punched his way out of problems, you didn't have that luxury. That's why within seconds you whirled around to the mercenary with a nervous smile on your lips.
"My friend, I believe we got off on the wrong foot." Your smile was charismatic as you extended your arms out in welcome to the target. The mercenary snarled at the comment, and you both glanced down to the foot he'd just regrown after Din had managed to chop it off.
You look back up at the reptilian male, a sheepish smile on your lips, "Bad choice of words"
He hissed at you and lunged again, slashing a knife you hadn't even seen him pull. A yelp left your mouth as you dodged the hit, desperately trying to be diplomatic.
"Look, the Mandalorian is out cold," You placated, ducking out of a knife swing by a hair's breadth, "He's the bounty hunter, not me. You and I, we can work something out."
This caught his attention, his yellow-orange eyes tracking your every breath, "You're not a hunter, but you're with the Mandalorian. You wouldn't betray him."
"He doesn't have to know," You reason, shoving every ounce of honey-coated deception you have into your tone, "Look at him! One hit from you and he's out like a light, big guy. There's no way he'll even remember this happened."
The Trandoshan's knife was lowering now, and your heart skipped a beat with hope. This was going to work, and when it did you were going to give Mando hell. You nearly smiled at the thought, but remembered where you were.
"What are your terms?" He hissed, and you take a calculated step towards him.
"I let you go free, and you let me leave with my life." You were getting nearer to the bounty, and he seemed to be so caught up in pondering your bargain that he missed your hand slip to the beskar knife Din had made for you a few months back.
"That seems acceptable," The bounty finally admits, slipping his knife back into its place and surveying you, "I'll-"
With a war cry, you launch yourself at the Trandoshan and jump onto his back, one arm around his neck and the other trying to plunge the beskar knife into his thick, scaled skin. He roars in response, spinning wildly and clawing up at you.
"Just die!" You pant, slashing and seeming to miss every swing.
Din was right, you really did suck at this whole combat thing. It's a good thing you were one hell of a thief.
"Y/N!"
It took more effort than you'd like to admit to keep the relief you felt from crashing over your entire form. Your eyes flicked up mid-spin from your perch on the Trandoshan's back to see the Mandalorian stumbling to his feet.
"Morning, sleepy head! Wanna join the fun?" You breathlessly call out, a tired smile on your lips.
The target takes advantage of your split attention and slices his razor-sharp claws through the tender flesh of your forearm. You clench your teeth to grit through the pain, "Not cool!"
It was mere seconds after the minor blow had been landed that the wild spinning and thrashing of the bounty finally stopped. Your dizzy mind righted to see a gloved hand grab the reptilian male and rip him to a stop.
You slide off his back, groaning to find your balance severely off-kilter. You fall on your ass just as Mando fires a shot at him, slicing it through the target's shoulder and making him roar in pain. His cry is cut off when Mando fires another blast into his skull, making the silence following the thud of the body deafening.
"Cold it is," Mando grunts, holstering the blaster.
The beskar helmet he wears immediately snaps to you, and you've been around him long enough to tell by his body language what he's feeling. Anger, worry, guilt.
Against your better judgement, your heart stutters as Din crouches down in front of you and reaches out for your bleeding arm. The lightning that crackles under your skin as his gloved hands tenderly lift your forearm makes your already dizzy mind spin. It takes the strength you've built up over the last few months to ignore the effect he has on you.
"You waited for a grand entrance, can't say I'm mad," You quip. His shoulders are tight as he keeps his gaze down on your arm.
"I should've seen him coming," Is all he replies, his voice that same sugar-sweet gravel that makes your inhibitions crumble.
"You know, I had it under control until I accidentally made a joke about the foot you chopped off." You laugh, the sound light in comparison to the biting pain, and Din shakes his head.
"That's not funny." He tried to sound convincing, but you could tell he was loosening up now that he'd seen your injury was just a scratch.
"It's a little funny," You fire back, a smile growing on your lips. He looks up at you and that damn mask makes your heart race and your mind wander.
It's the almost imperceptible breathy laugh he lets out, though, that makes you remember how far gone you are when it comes to him.
"I like it when you laugh." Your words are soft, and they're out before you can even think to stop them. Mando goes still before you, your arm still in his grasp. It's then that the position you're in, with him crouched before you, seems much more intimate than it did a few minutes ago.
You go still as one of his hands lifts to your face, and you nearly forget how to breath when he almost absentmindedly brushes a gloved-knuckle against a light bruise forming on your cheek from the fight. His fingers leave fire where they touch, and you can only dream about how it would feel if it were his skin and not his gloves.
He catches himself too quickly for your liking and stands, extending a hand down to you, "Come on, we've got a bounty to cash in."
You take his hand and let him help you to your feet, "I think I deserve a larger cut on this one. I did take him on one-on-one, you know."
"And nearly got yourself killed."
You glance up at him, your brows lifted in a challenge, "I saved your ass, didn't I?"
Din doesn't move back an inch, but rather stays towering over you and cocks his head in response, "Is that so?"
Your heart stumbles yet again. The air is thick with tension and unspoken attraction, and the way he's looking down at you isn't helping. Din is usually as close to void of emotion as he can be, save for his temper and inability to keep from sassing you. It's moments like this though, moments where he's almost playful, that make you remember just how powerful the hold he has on you is.
"Can't deny it this time, Mandalorian." You try to sound cool and calm like he always does, but fail miserably. He just hums before stepping back and breaking the tension-corded air between you.
"Help me get him to the Crest."
And you do, but as you work in the comfortable silence you've grown used to, you can't help but think about how lucky you are. This life, it may seem dangerous and hectic, but it's a blessing to you. It's everything to you. He's everything to you, he has been since the first few moments he found you. There was a sudden tightness in your chest, and you can't help but think of that day—the day your life would never be the same.
|||
Months Prior
Your breaths were labored, your legs burned, your vision was blurred with sweat and tears.
You had nowhere to go, nothing in the bustling port town on Corrida could shield you from your fate. Panic clawed up your throat, so thick it nearly choked you.
Not like this, you pleaded to yourself, it can't end like this.
Mind-racing and heart-pounding, you swiftly and nimbly darted in and out of shops and between buildings. You danced in the shadows, became one of them. It was your greatest strength, your stealth, and even though it was what had gotten you into this mess, it was now your only chance at survival.
The day was turning into night, and as light dwindled your hope flared and grew. Once darkness settled over the town shrouded by mountains, your pursuers would lose every chance of finding you. All you had to do was find a way onto a ship and ride it out of this forsaken planet. Then, you'd be-
"Hey, you!"
The voice that rang out sent tendrils of fear to your very bones. You knew that voice. You'd know that voice for as long as you'd live. While there were still thoughts in your brain, that voice would haunt you. You ducked around the alleyway between two shops, your heart racing at a painful speed as you chanced a look in the direction of your old Master.
"You seen a girl running through here?" He snarled, his tone boiling with anger that he thinly kept composed under his Imperial getup. The Empire was gone, but unfortunately the New Republic could not monitor every planet in every system when it fell. You just had the supreme misfortune of dwelling in the town of a group of Imperial officers that refused to back down.
"There's plenty of girls here, be more specific," The shopkeeper he'd asked grunted, going about his work.
Your Master spoke to him for a few more minutes before you forced yourself to slink away, melting into the shadows growing longer as the sky grew darker. As you snuck around the back of the buildings, you heard your Master's voice rise in volume.
"Anyone who finds an indentured woman in a green cloak is to bring her to me, immediately."
You froze, looking down at the cloak around your shoulders. With a pounding heart you shucked it off, cursing the Imperial scum for the clever tactic. Now if he saw you sneaking around, you'd have nothing to hide your face.
Indentured. You bristled at the word, anger flooding your mind. What a pretty way to say enslaved.
You had to get out of here and fast. The Empire might be gone, but this town was still pinned under their thumb. These people wouldn't think twice before turning you over. The satchel that was slung across your body was heavy with the reason why you couldn't let that happen.
With silent steps, you made it all the way to the ship port. There weren't many options present, and the choice would be paramount. Pick the wrong ship, and you'd be cast into the streets for your old Master and his troopers to find you and the item you stole from him that was nestled in the bag you bore.
As you surveyed the ship port, you noted three choices. First, the light freighter that sat loading its cargo near the middle of the port—too busy, too central. Second, the old Razor Crest sitting nearest you—low profile, but you could've sworn you'd just seen a Mandalorian walk into it. That was too risky, too dangerous. Third, and most appealing, the CR90 Corvette—no one dangerous was entering, enough cargo to hide in, it was perfect.
Making your mind, you begin to dart across the ship port, dodging past the Razor Crest and towards the Corvette. It would work, it would be perf-
You skidded to a stop so fast that you nearly tripped and fell. Walking up to the Corvette was your Master, and he'd just begun talking to the owner. Your eyes widened as he motioned to the three storm troopers with him, and they began to search the ship.
This wasn't good, you weren't going to make if off of this planet.
Your eyes wildly searched the port and landed on the Razor Crest just as its back hatch began to close. It wasn't ideal, but it was taking off soon, and that made it your only choice. Holding your breath, you surged towards the beat up ship and vaulted into the space between the closing hatch and the ship's interior. Luckily for you, the Mandalorian you'd seen was in the cockpit taking off when you clanged and rolled into the ship's belly. The engines started and the ship lifted, and before you could comprehend it, you were leaving Corrida.
You escaped. You stole from the Imperial guard Finon Kane, the man who'd enslaved and tortured you and hundreds of others, and escaped. You were free.
A laugh of pure and raw joy bubbled out of your chest as you clutched your satchel close to your chest. You'd done it, you'd actually done it. The other slaves had cheered you on as you made your grand escape, had laughed and whooped with you as you bested Master Kane. And now, you were free.
You barely felt the ship slip out of the atmosphere of the planet as you shoved to your feet. Now was the tricky part—you had to hide from the Mandalorian until he docked somewhere else, and then you could-
A strong, gloved hand closed around your shoulder and whirled you around with such strength and speed that you could only yelp as you were pressed into the cool metal of the Crest's walls. One massive arm barred your throat, and the other held a blaster to your head. The Mando's grip was strong and he oozed confidence, but he was silent.
Silent as death, silent as the reaper in beskar armor.
His shining helmet tilted at you, and your heart dropped to your feet. He hadn't killed you yet, he just kept looking at you, inspecting you, almost testing to see if you were a threat or not. So, he wasn't a cold-blooded killer then. There was a heart, whether it was flesh or beskar, somewhere underneath his armor. You needed to exploit it, and fast.
A shaking smile made it onto your lips and you tried your best to seem as calm as he was, "A Mandalorian, and one with fine armor too. What a pleasant surprise."
"What are you doing on my ship?" Was all he gritted out, his tone rough and smooth all at once. A walking and living dichotomy that, against your better judgement, made your heart trip over itself.
"Is this your ship?" You noted, humming to yourself as your pulse thrummed, "I must have boarded without even looking, it seems so much like mine that I-"
The blaster moved closer to your skin and your words died, your eyes widening as the Mandalorian stared you down through his mask, "The truth, stowaway."
It wasn't a question, but a demand. Flattery clearly wasn't getting you anywhere, so you needed to find a different way.
"I need safe passage," You honestly announced, your charming, hopeful smile still on your lips to persuade him you're not a threat, "And clearly, Mando, you need some help around here. I could be of service to you, I've got a great many skills!"
"Can you hunt?"
He didn't mean animals. That was when you realized this Mandalorian was a bounty hunter, and you cursed every star for crossing your fate into bad luck.
"No, but I-"
"Can you fight?" He interrupted, his voice a calm and collected drill.
"Well, not particularly, but if you'd just-"
"Can you fix the ship?"
You were getting frustrated now.
"Never really been good with mechanics, but-"
"Then you are of no use to me." He decided, letting go of you and holstering his blaster. He stepped back and shuffled through one wall of his ship, looking for something, "I'll dock at the next inhabited planet and turn you over to-"
It was his turn to be cut off, but not by you. Instead, the whooshing of a cabin door opening followed by a child's giggle makes his words die out. Surprise skittered through you at the site. A child. This large, rough Mandalorian Bounty Hunter was taking care of a...a child?
As he stormed over to the little thing, he muttered soft chiding to it before picking it up gently in the hands that just held your life. The child nestled into the crook of his arm, batting its massive eyes up at him lovingly.
And, against every warning and better judgement, your heart, your very soul, melted at the site.
"You're a bounty hunter with a kid?" You asked boldly, stepping forward towards the beskar-coated hunter that turned sharply around to you, the kid still in his strong arms, "And what do you do with it when you're on jobs?"
"He stays here or comes with me," he rasps out simply. You let out a short, unbelieving laugh.
"And you say you don't need my help," You chide, being bolder than you should be and stepping up to the pair. The Mandalorian freezes as you brazenly pluck the child out of his arms, cradling the little one into your torso.
The pure shock of what you've just done makes Mando stand awkwardly, unmoving and sputtering for a moment as he tries to respond. Whatever he's saying keeps dying on his tongue as he watches the child giggle and play with your hair, nuzzling into you the way he was just doing to him.
"I can take care of him while you're on hunts," You reason, looking up at the Mando with a bright, unwavering smile, "And, as I was going to say before you rudely interrupted,"
This shocked the bounty hunter even more. The audacity of this woman, who could neither kill nor fight, to be so bold with him? It struck him into an astonished silence.
"I may not have any of the skills you listed," You continued, looking up at the Mandalorian with his child in your arms, "But I'm amazing at sneaking into places. I'm not a killer, but I'm sure a bounty hunter like yourself could use a good thief."
He crosses his arms at this, cocking his head at you in a way that makes you imagine his face with risen brows and a taunting gaze, "Obviously the sneaking part isn't your strong suit."
"Hey, I got in here, didn't I?" You challenged, holding his gaze before looking down at cooing at the child, "Besides, your little one likes me, don't you sweetheart?"
"Could you give him back, please?"
"What was that?" You hummed, tilting your ear towards the child before smiling at it once more, "I couldn't agree more. Your father does need to lighten up."
The Mandalorian sputtered at her words, not understanding how a little thing like you could have rendered him completely speechless and without knowledge of what to do next. No hunt he's ever been on has ever done that to this extent, and yet here you were. A stowaway that, as much as Din wanted to ignore, needed help. You tried to hide it behind your smiles and remarks, but he could see the desperation in your eyes, the worry in your soul.
You needed help, and damn it all he was going to give it to you.
Din cursed himself beneath his breath, shaking his head at you. If the Guild members knew what a softie he was under this armor he'd lose his entire reputation. He could slaughter targets without faltering, but throw in a child and a smartass stowaway and his spine leaves him.
"I'm not his father," The Mandalorian rebuts, but you can hear the lie in his tone, "I'm just looking out for him"
You scoffed at that, "Leaving him alone, taking him on dangerous hunts? Not things a good father would do."
"Hey I'm a great father!" His temper snapped, and you smiled smugly. You glanced up at him, tilting your head the way he'd just done to you.
"So you are his father?" You challenged.
The Mandalorian started and stopped three different sentences before he let out a defeated grunt and walked towards a far wall of the Crest. He slammed his hand onto a button and the door whizzed open to reveal a spare bedroom with three cots. A hope-filled, bright smile lit up your lips.
He was going to let you stay.
"You can sleep here. You'll earn your keep how you promised, but what I say goes, is that clear?" He ordered, staring you down. Your smile widened, and you noted to your memory the soft side the Mandalorian had that you'd bet only a few people had seen.
"I can't thank you enough, Mando," You responded, and he could see that you meant it. You handed him the child and moved to set your satchel, all that was left of your life, in the room he'd opened.
"Don't mention it." His voice of gravel ordered, and you heard him walking away. You couldn't ignore the sense of safety that he radiated, especially because you hadn't felt safe like this in years.
Thinking he was gone, your smile dropped as you sank onto the cot and rested your head against the cool metal.
"I'm free," You whispered, almost to ensure it was real. A genuine, small smile worked its way onto your lips and into your soul, "I'm free."
The Mandalorian watched from the other side of the ship, and he couldn't help the way his heart tugged. He didn't understand why, but Din knew he cared more than he should have to make sure you stayed free, to make sure you'd smile like that again.
|||
You'd only meant to stay for a little while until you had enough credits and resources to make it on your own. And yet, here you were. It had been months and you still hadn't found a way to leave Din and the child.
He had found ways to make you stay. When he got used to your presence, he found that jobs often went easier with your expertise in stealth. The two of you became a team, and with the child it almost felt like...
Your mind stopped at the word that wanted to come next. Family. You hadn't had one in years, and it scared you because you knew you could do this forever. You'd begun to fall in love with Din Djarin the moment he'd picked up the child for the first time, and by now you were properly whipped.
Once the two of you had the bounty secured away, Din turned to you without leaving room for argument, "Sit down."
You did as he instructed, settling down on the cot in your room as Mando grabbed a med kit and walked back over to you. Even as he sat on the cot across from you, his massive frame shadowed your smaller one.
"Give me your arm," He said quietly, his voice sendings shivers racing down your spine that only worsened when he took your skin into his gloved hands.
He inspected it for a moment before humming, "It's not deep, it should heal quickly without bacta."
You were silent as he worked, something out of the ordinary for you and he knew it. As his skilled hands worked quickly, his modulated voice reached out to you, breaking the silence.
"What is it?"
You knew what he meant. Knowing that he could see through every lie you threw at him, you sighed and settled for the truth.
"Today...scared me."
The words surprised your Mandalorian as he went still before you, his hands faltering with the bandage for only a moment before he continued wrapping your cut.
"The hunt did?" He prodded. You shook your head.
"Seeing you lying there..." You began, and shook your head, the image stuck in your brain, "That's going to haunt me for a while, Din."
He tucked the end of the bandage in, and you kept your eyes down on his work. You couldn't stand to meet his masked-gaze, he'd see the emotion working its way through your eyes. One of his gloved hands hooks under your chin and tilts your head up softly to meet his gaze.
"You saved my life today," He said softly, his thumb brushing gently over your skin, "As much as I hate to admit it."
His words had their desired affect and you laughed softly, shaking your head at him as your soul lightened. Din was right, he was alive and well and it had a lot to do with you. The thought calmed you, but you couldn't hide the way it still scared the very depths of you.
"I should be apologizing to you," Mando started, but you cut him off.
"Din-"
"No, shut your mouth and listen to me for once." His voice was sharp, and it made you go silent with surprise. There wasn't cruelty or anger in that tone. Instead, you found it wavering with what you could have sworn was fear.
The Mandalorian moved his hand from your chin to hold more of your jaw, and with the movement you could hardly think straight, "I almost got you killed today. Had I woken up seconds later, you would have been that Trandoshan's target and not the other way around."
The words made your mouth go dry, and you tried to protest them but Din held you jaw with a gentle firmness and shook his head. It wasn't often that he preferred to do the talking, but you could see how bad he needed you to hear him.
"I'm sorry, cyar'ika. I'm so sorry"
You were stunned into silence. You'd never heard him say any of those words before, not sorry and certainly not cyar'ika. You knew what it meant, and it made your head spin. Slowly, so not to startle him, you lift your hands and rest them on the cool beskar of his helmet. He goes still and you can't help but smile softly at him
"There is nothing to forgive, Din."
His hand drops from your jaw and somehow finds its way absently resting on your waist. The touch sends fire shooting through you, and you have to blink a few times to focus.
"Besides, if I could count the number of times I almost got you killed..." You sentence ended naturally as you laughed softly, and he joined in. The sound was honey to your soul and it made you remember that you'd rather be here than anywhere else in the galaxy.
Much to your disappointment, he pulled away and stood surveying you through his mask, "I should go check on the kid. Get some rest."
And then he was gone, and you spent the rest of the night wondering what in the stars you were going to do.
|||
You docked at Tatooine soon after, the ship in dire need of a tune up.
The last few days had been strange. You'd thought the near death encounter would continue to keep the two of you close like it had that day in your room, but he seemed to be ignoring you at any and all costs. He only spoke to you when he needed to and even then it was clipped and short.
By the time you saw Peli, you were dying to slug him over the head with one of her wrenches.
"Well, well, if it isn't my favorite band of three," The mechanic greets, jogging out to meet you with a smile, "Where's my baby?"
Mirroring her smile, you handed the kid over to Peli who eagerly tucked him close, stroking his long ears and cooing to him softly, "I only tolerate you two for him, you know."
The two of you knew better.
"Can you watch over him for a few hours? We have business here." Mando gruffly stated. You furrowed your brows and glanced over at him.
Business? He hadn't mentioned that to you. Then again, he barely mentioned anything to you these last few days.
"Go, go," Peli shooed, already turning around and walking with the kid back to her lodgings, "He and I will make sure the Crest is all fixed up, won't we precious thing? He loves his favorite aunt, doesn't he?"
Aunt, which would make you and Mando his...You brushed away the thought, not letting it bring you hope or joy. You smiled once more at the mechanic before following Mando as he quickly exited the hangar.
"What business do we have?" You asked. He almost seemed like he was not going to reply before he did so without even glancing at you.
"You'll see."
Your patience was waning, but you went along with it nonetheless. You hadn't been walking long on the desert planet before Mando ushered you in a bar nearby. The business ended up being nothing more than a job hunt, leaving you confused as to why the Mandalorian was being so stand-offish. He'd collected a new round of pucks and then left you to spend your evening alone however you pleased. You didn't know where he went and you didn't quite care. He was being an asshole to you, so you could return the favor.
You returned rather quickly to the hangar and the Crest, finding there was nothing better to do. After a few hours of cards and gambling with Peli and her droids, Mando still hadn't returned and you decided to go ahead and tuck the child in for the night. Bidding you friends goodnight, you hoisted the kid into your arms and climbed the hatch to the Crest.
"What's going on with you father, hm?" You asked softly, bouncing him in your arms. He stared up at you with wide, dark eyes, drinking in every word you spoke.
You walked him over to his makeshift bed, sighing as you settled him in it. You spent a moment longer tracing a finger down his wrinkled skin, a saddened look flickering in your gaze.
"He's going to be the end of me," You whispered, and could've sworn the kid's eyes softened on you. You leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to his brow and walked out of his room, "Sweet dreams, little one."
When you shut the door, your eyes traveled to the bandage still tied securely around your wounded arm. Although Mando assured it would be alright, it hurt like hell. You made your way into your room, grabbing a med kit as you went. You set the kit down on your bed and opened it, about to tend to your would when you heard footsteps and then the hatch closing to the Crest.
Your heart leapt into your throat and you stepped away from the med kit and out of your room, your eyes traveling over the ship until you saw the flash of beskar in the dark, "Finally, you were starting to worry me."
"I'm sure I was," came Din's response, but his voice made you freeze.
You watched in shock for a moment as he turned and stumbled slightly as he walked towards where you stood. With wide eyes, you barely could speak, "Are you...drunk?"
The Mandalorian came closer to you, his massive body making you take a few steps back. He kept advancing until your back was pressed against the cool metal of the Crest's wall.
"Din," you whispered, your heart racing as he stopped before you, settling his forearms above your head and caging you in. You could hardly think straight with him like this.
"Close your eyes, cyar'ika." His voice came, low and rough and gentle and slurred.
"Din, what-"
"Close your eyes." He ordered again. With him this close to you, your inhibitions were all but gone and you did as he asked, shutting your eyes. Before you, you could hear him let out a long sigh.
"I was thinking," He started, followed by the moving of his arms away from the wall. You furrowed your brows at the absence of his presence, but before another thought could leave, you heard a sound that made your heart stop and your mind go blank.
You heard him take his helmet off.
"Din, you're drunk-" You couldn't make it past that before he was cutting in. He's never taken his helmet off around you, it was the creed. It was his life. He'd regret this in the morning.
"Shut up." He murmured, his body heat returning close to you. Your eyes stayed firmly shut as he told you too, that way it wouldn't break the code he lived by. You felt his hands touch your neck softly and jumped slightly in surprise at the absence of gloves, "I know what I'm doing. Just keep your eyes closed, mesh'la."
His skin. His skin was touching yours.
Your breathing hitched, and you knew when he settled those bare, rough hands onto your jaw that he did so in a manner to feel the thrum of your pulse in your neck. It was wildly racing, quicker than it ever had.
"I was thinking," He started again, running his thumbs over your skin and forever ruining you from contact with anyone else ever again, "That you almost died."
His low voice had taken on an edge of sadness and you nearly opened your eyes out of habit, but forced them to stay closed.
"You almost died, and I never got to know what those pretty lips of yours tasted like"
What in the stars was happening? Was this real? Were you going to wake up and find it was all a dream in a few moments? Or was this finally putting the last few days into context? Even after your talk, the hunt had messed him up and haunted him just as it had you. And now here he was, his breath fanning across your skin and his lips almost brushing against yours.
You never imagined this would happen, not in thirty lifetimes did you think you'd ever know what it would feel like to press your lips against Din Djarin's.
And yet, in the next second, you knew.
Without warning, he captured your lips with his and pressed his body against yours, keeping you against the wall. He grabbed your hands in one of his, pressing them together over your head to keep you from touching his face. As his lips worked desperately, hungrily, passionately against yours, your knees buckled and his free hand slipped around your waist, keeping you from falling.
This had to be a dream, it had to be. This couldn't be real, but it was. You knew that he was drunk and that he'd probably not remember this in the morning. You tried to pull away, tried to force yourself to stop but he held you fast, crushing your body against his and making you forget your own name with his tongue in your mouth.
You didn't want it to end, but you knew it would have to eventually. It would end and you would have to go back to pretending like you weren't in love with him.
As if you'd brought it about by just thinking it, Din's lips left yours. He wasn't kissing you, but he stayed so close that his nose touched yours.
"I'm sorry," He breathed, his lips brushing against yours.
And then he was gone.
You stood there with your eyes closed long after you heard his bedroom door shut. You cursed every star in the sky, because now that you knew what his skin felt like, every moment without it touching you was pure and unbridled torture. This torture was worse than any you'd felt under Master Finon Kane and his troopers.
When you slept that night, you dreamt of Din's lips on yours.
|||
In the morning, you didn't know whether or not Din was going to continue ignoring you, address what happened last night, or pretend like the last few days haven't even happened. When you greeted him in the belly of the ship and he he greeted you the same as he has for months before heading off to find bounties, you realized it would be the last option.
Anything was better than the blatant ignoring, but having him act normal around you was horrific in itself.
"Hey little guy," You greet the child, a smile on your lips as you reached down and stroked his ear. He giggled up at you just as the Mandalorian walked up the hatch and into the Crest.
"So," You began, watching him set down the bag of pucks he collected in town. He goes still for a moment, but keeps his helmet firmly away from you.
"So," He repeats, sounding utterly anxious but trying to play it cool. It makes humor curl in your gut and you decide to push you luck.
"What's the plan for today?" You ask, and from the sigh he lets out you can see he was expected something regarding last night.
"Picked up some pucks in town, we can go through 'em and see what we can do." He responds. You nod, reaching down a hand and letting the child play with you finger.
"So getting drunk isn't in the cards, then?"
The sharp intake of breath from the Mandalorian nearly makes you crack with laughter. You bite the inside of your cheek to keep your humor at just the smile on your lips.
"No." Din replies gruffly.
"That's a shame," You sigh, looking up at him finally to find him already facing you and the child, "I like drunk you. He's fun."
"I shouldn't have done that, I'm sorry." He states, making your humor dissipate in record speed. You hold his beskar-covered gaze for a moment, feeling the phantom scrape of his calloused hands on your skin and the touch of his lips to yours.
"Which part?" You ask, holding your breath in a way that made it clear whatever he said next would cement something between the two of you. He stays silent for a long while before walking up to you, the child between the two of you. He reaches down and strokes the kid's head lovingly before looking to you.
"Which part do you want to be the mistake?" Din whispers, the gravel of his tone silky smooth as it caresses you. He's playing with you, you suddenly realize. You played with him with the drunk comment and he's playing back, testing to see which of you will break first.
You have to smother your smile before it can make it to your face.
"Careful Mando," You respond, your tone barely stable, "You've got a clan of two to protect. I-"
"Three."
He interrupts you with such a sure, calm voice that you almost miss what he says, "What?" You whisper, your teasing gone.
"Three," Din repeats, "Clan of three."
Before you can respond, a nonsensical babble from below makes the two of you look down to see a confused and yet very aware child. His smalls hands are holding your fingers and Din's hand is on his ear, and for a moment it feels like the most natural thing in the world.
But then you and Din come to your senses, and you mutually decide to push off the game of testing the tension until it breaks again.
"We should go through those pucks," Din states, walking away and to the sack he set down earlier. With a smile that you're glad he doesn't see, you wonder how much longer you can go without telling him what he really is to you. You repeat what he said to you in your mind.
Clan of three.
Mando dumps out the bounty pucks, sorting through them as you lean against the wall, your arms crossed and giving your input with each one he clicks open.
"Another mercenary, set on Naboo." Mando announces, the picture of the target hovering over the puck. You click your tongue.
"After the Trandoshan, I think we should take a break from mercenaries," You advise, earning a nod of agreement from Din. He sets the puck aside and grabs another, clicking it on.
"This one's on Tatooine, but I think I'm ready to see something besides this desert planet," The Mandalorian notes, and you hum your agreement.
"Trees would be nice, like on Felucia" You add, an absentminded smile growing on your face, "Or maybe a nice water planet."
"Water and this armor don't go together, mesh'la"
You smirk at him from your spot at the wall, "All the more reason to go."
His sudden laugh is enough to make every sorrow remotely near your mind melt away. Everything is back to normal, everything is going well, everything is beautiful.
Until he clicks open the next puck.
That's when your world comes crashing down.
The silence that settles over the cabin is thick and unlike the comfortable one you are used to. Mando goes as still as death before you, his body taught under his armor. Horror, real and true, washes over every fiber of your being.
Because that's your picture on the bounty puck, and the one who put it out is Finon Kane.
No. No. This isn't real, this isn't happening.
Din says your name, slow and guarded.
No, not when everything was perfect. Not when you'd found your family, your clan.
You begin to shake your head, all of those years of torture and darkness roaring through your mind. You'd just begun to forget it all, truly forget it all.
But you guess it's true what they say, you really can't run from your past forever.
"Y/N, what-"
You're shoving through the Crest towards your room, leaving Din in stunned silence until he comes to his senses and follows.
"Where is it, where is it, where is it?" You mumble, blinding panic tearing you apart as you rummage wildly through your belongings. It only takes a few seconds before your hands close around your satchel, and your chest doesn't loosen even an inch when you lift it and find it still heavy with the item that is dooming you.
You clutch the satchel close and sling it across your body, standing to leave your room only to find Din blocking the path with his massive body.
"Cyar'ika, what's going on?" His voice is commanding as usual, but it holds an edge of panic that you can't deny.
You feel like a cornered animal, and your fingers clutch the strap of your bag tightly.
"Mando, move." You plead, moving to go around him only for him to grab your shoulders and pull you back.
"No, Mando move!' You beg, pulling against his hold, "Din please."
"Stop it!" He orders, holding you fast, his chest heaving with worried breaths. He stares at you for a moment before it seems to click in his mind, "What were you running from?"
You know what he refers to, you mind zipping back to that moment when you stowed away on his ship. Your silent for a long while, your panic not lowering an ounce. You've always felt safe with Din, always. You long to tell him everything, to let him help you because you know he'd never hunt you. You'd feel safe, but you wouldn't be safe.
The Mandalorian couldn't protect you from this, but you could protect him from it.
"I stole something," You whisper, your voice barely above a breath, "And my old master won't stop until he has it and me."
"What did you take?" Mando asks, his tone flooded with calculation as he tries to figure a way out of this, "If we hunt him down first, we can-"
"Din," Your voice breaks as you cut in, placing one hand on the beskar chest plate and longing for the feel of his skin again, "My reaper has come for me. And I can't let him take you too"
Before he can get out another sentence, you use your free hand to search in your satchel until your fingers close around the cool metal of what doesn't belong to you.
Then you pull out the lightsaber you stole and crack the butt of it so hard against the Mandalorian's helmet that he drops to the floor, unconscious.
He taught you that move with a blaster.
And now, you've saved his life with it.
You stand for a moment in silence, your heart slowly shattering in your chest as you look down at the love of your life. Tears cloud your vision, and you look up to see the child looking at you with confused eyes. You break, a sob wracking your body as you bend down to the Mandalorian's slumped body grip his gloved hand, pulling it up to place a kiss to his palm.
"I'm sorry," Your words mirror his from last night, and then you're pocketing the lightsaber that once belonged to the Empire and running out of the Razor Crest.
You're now his bounty, and if he knows what's good for him he'll let this one go.
Let you go.
|||
Din Djarin
When the Mandalorian awoke, he was alone.
There was one heart-breaking moment of confusion as he sat up from his slumped position on the floor. It wasn't silent, but there was something missing in the array of noises. There was no laughter, no yelling. There was no light-hearted remarks, no sarcastic punches.
There was no her.
The thought jarred him so deeply from his newly-conscious muddled mind that he shoved himself to his feet, his heart pounding so loud in his chest that he could feel every thrum.
This wasn't happening. She wouldn't have just left, she wouldn't.
He stumbled out of her small room, his gaze wildly shooting around the Razor Crest. The child lay exactly where Din remembered, right before...
What the hell happened? How did he-
The memories came back in a rush—the hand on his chest that had distracted him as her other hand grabbed something from her satchel, something metal and cylindrical. She'd hit him with it, whipped it across his head like he'd taught her. She must've gotten the blaster...no, it wasn't a blaster. It was...it was...
Stars
A lightsaber. She'd stolen a lightsaber all those months ago.
The thought made his head spin and it took a great deal of effort to keep his knees from buckling. Whenever she'd spoken of her past, it had been vague. Mentions of an Imperial encampment even after the Empire's fall, the shoving of her city into slavery, the torture she endured at the hands of her master.
The very thought made him clench his jaw. The first time she'd spoken about this Finon Kane, he'd wanted to find him and slaughter him with his bare hands for ever laying a finger on her. And now...now he had a bounty on her and Din wasn't there to protect her.
The thought spurred him back into action. Din scooped up the child into his hands before rocketing down the hatch of the Crest and towards where Peli worked with her droids. The mechanic seemed slightly nervous, almost as if she was avoiding his gaze.
"Mando, off to do a hunt?" She asked, trying to sound casual and failing. Din didn't falter as he walked up and shoved the child into her arms. Peli startled as she took the kid, looking up at Din with wide eyes. She couldn't see the Mandalorian's face, but it was clear to anyone the pure, guttural rage tangling with a panic he's never known.
"What-"
"Where did she go?" He demanded. The mechanic sputtered for a moment, holding the child close.
"I don't know what you mean," Peli tried, and Din almost growled.
"Peli if you don't tell me where she went I will rip your tongue out," Din snarled. The woman looked at him desperately, her gaze torn.
"She told me not to tell you, Mando. How do I know you're not going to..." Her words died out and it took every ounce of Din's restraint to keep from yelling again.
"Hurt her?" He finished for the mechanic, his voice just as lethal when it was quiet, "She's in danger, Peli. Real danger, and if you don't tell me where she went someone else is going to find her first and she'll...she'll-"
He could't get the words out, couldn't hide the panic flooding his tone. Din didn't know what he'd do if someone else found her first, he couldn't even comprehend that she wasn't with him right now. He didn't think he'd ever have to know what it felt like for her to be absent. The mechanic softened immediately, letting out a long sigh.
"She didn't say exactly where she was going," Peli finally admitted, holding the kid tighter, "Just that she needed to get as far away as she could as fast as possible. When I asked, she said something remote, something green. She took the spare ship in the hangar an hour ago."
Mando didn't need an exact answer to know where she was going, he knew. With a brisk nod of his head, he gestured at the kid as he walked towards the Crest, "Watch him for me?"
Peli nodded, "Of course. Do you think she'll...do you think she'll be okay?"
The Mandalorian stopped, looking over his shoulder slightly so that the mechanic was in this peripheral vision.
"If she isn't, I'll burn the planet down."
With that he was getting on the Crest, his heart hammering in his chest and fear, real fear, flooding every part of his being. He shut the hatch and practically vaulted into the cockpit. Din threw himself into the captain's seat and swiveling to face the control panel. He didn't hesitate as he put in the coordinates. She mentioned trees earlier, and he knew the way she thought, knew she was smart enough to go somewhere with more jungles than cities right now.
Felucia.
He'd go, he'd find her, he'd knock her upside the head for running away from him, and he'd get her back.
And stars help anyone he’s found has so much as touched her.
|||
You
It was strange, being on the run again.
Even though it hadn't even been a full year since you last were sprinting from your reaper, it has felt like a lifetime because of your company. Time slowed down with Din Djarin, and for a long while you felt safe, protected, home.
And now you were scrambling around, planet to planet, in the dark alleyways and through dense, uninhabited forests to put distance between you and...
You stopped for a moment, your back pressed up against a tree in the rich, winding forest of Felucia. Who were you trying to put distance between?
Finon Kane, his squadron of stormtroopers, and the only real family you've ever had.
That last one sent a spear of heart-wrenching pain racketing through you. Typical, so very typical, to find something so worth having and to think the galaxy would let you keep it. This galaxy was cold and cruel, it was a better thief than you'd ever be and you knew it, you knew it. And yet you let yourself get close anyways. It's a strange thing what love can do. It made you reckless enough to think that for once, just once, the galaxy would let you make it away with what you found.
It turns out you aren't as good of a thief as you thought, because the happiness you stole has been returned, and your time playing at a good life has run out.
You picked up your brutal pace again, trekking through the jungle and refusing to stop for even the barest of needs unless it was unavoidable. This would never end, this hunt. As you moved, the lightsaber in your bag banged against your hip, reminding you of what had gotten you into this mess in the first place.
You shouldn't have taken it, you really shouldn't have, but you couldn't stand to watch Master Kane take another slave's life with a weapon that didn't belong to him. He'd found it in the rubble of the fallen Empire and he thought he was entitled to it. It had been used as a weapon of terror during the Imperial rule and then after because of your master, and taking it? You'd not only done it so the weapon could be given back to the New Republic where it belonged, but because after everything he'd done to you, after all of the scars you bore because of Finon Kane, you'd wanted to hurt him. You had wanted him to feel every ounce of pain and desperation you had, and for that cause, you were willing to pay the price that was now due.
The jungle-covered planet would do well to hide you for a little while, give you time to gather up some credits in case you needed to run again. You walk around a grove of trees, the jungle beginning to thin the closer you get to a city. As you do, a sound you're all too familiar with makes you stop dead in your tracks.
A steady beeping, consistently increasing as it gets louder.
A tracking fob.
You barely have time to scramble around to the back of a thick tree when a blaster sounds out behind you, singing the side of the tree where you'd just been standing.
"Come on out, thief! I get more credits for bringing you in alive." The gruff voice of a bounty hunter wafts out to you, a hint of smugness in her tone.
Your mind is grappling for options as you sprint away from your tree and towards another thicket up ahead. Your feet are silent on the grassy floor and you deftly miss any roots in your path, so the bounty hunter doesn't notice you at first. When she does, it's made known by the firing of the blaster at your back.
Gratefully, the hunter has horrible aim.
Blast after blast burn into the trees around you, so you continue to stick close to them as you run. How the hunter found you is incomprehensible, but you don't waste time worrying about that matter and sprint for your life towards the city that thrives just outside the jungle's end. The only tricky thing would be making it across the large clearing between the end of the trees you were approaching and the city gates up ahead.
"Get back here!" The hunter shouts to you, falling further and further behind.
You allow the hint of a smile, but don't dare to slow down. The end of the jungle is growing nearer, and it's only a minute or so of sprinting before you're at the city g-
Another bounty hunter steps out from around the last tree in the clearing, a blaster held lazily in his hands. You skid to a stop so suddenly that your feet slip on the floor and you have to catch yourself with a hand to the jungle floor to keep from falling on your ass. You whirl around to go back the way you came only to come face to face with the other hunter ho had already been pursuing you approaching, her chest heaving with breath but her blaster lifted nonetheless.
"Nowhere to run, thief," The one behind you lilts, his voice heavy with experience and sounding almost bored, "Surrender now and I'll let you keep your life."
"I saw her first, the bounty's mine!" The first hunter grits, her eyes flicking from your face and to the hunter behind you. You turn halfway to keep them both in your vision, your heart pounding in your chest.
"You would've lost her if it wasn't for me," The other counters, both of their blasters lowered slightly. You would make a run for it, but you're directly in the middle of the quarrel, and they'd have you dead in seconds. So, you do the only thing that can save you, the thing you've wanted to do for months now.
You pull the lightsaber from your satchel, clutch it in both hands, and turn it on.
The argument between the hunters dies as a burning blade, as red as death and blood and anguish, ignites into the green of the forest. The two colors clash, one seeming wrong with the other, but you clutch it nonetheless and move before they can lift their weapons again.
"That's a..." The male hunter stands shell-shocked, his words dying as he watches you advance on the female hunter who has already begun firing at you.
You're clumsy with the foreign weapon, but her bad aim and you're mild understand of how to move the saber allows the blasts and blade of the same color to clash as they collide, saving you from the death her weapon assures.
Her weapon may bring death, but yours is death.
She nearly blasts your head off, but you manage to shove the lightsaber through her middle before she gets another shot out. Her strangled gasp followed by the thud of her body into the ground nearly makes you falter, but the sound of the other hunter approaching snaps you out of your own mind. It was you or them, you assure yourself.
You'd wounded the other hunter quickly, grounding him before turning the saber off and sprinting for the city ahead. As you did, you shoved the blade into your satchel and barreled through the open gates, the merchants and travelers bustling through gasping and yelping as you shoved through them. The second you were inside, you stopped running and allowed yourself to meld into the crowd, walking in their flow and moving in their manners. It was mere seconds before you were blended into their midst, the only difference between you and them being your heaving chest and singed clothes from a blast or two that got dangerously close.
You thought you'd made it out before a figure shot out of the alleyway you were passing.
A gasp left your lips as they grabbed you and tugged you inside faster than you could comprehend. Before you could reach for the saber in your satchel, the bag was ripped clean off your shoulder, nearly dislocating the limb in the process and making a cry of pain leave your lips. The sound couldn't even make it fully out before you were being pressed against the sand wall of a building with the steel edge of a blade at your throat.
Your eyes were wide and wild as they took in your surroundings—two hunters surrounded you expectantly, not counting the one holding you at knifepoint. They must have agreed to a split bounty and a temporary alliance.
"Check the bag," The one holding you grunts out. On command, one of the two standing around you searches the bag he'd ripped clean off, his hand rummaging through until a sickening smile lit up his lips. Slowly, he pulled the lightsaber out.
"It's here." His response was smug and nauseating. You knew this was going to happen, but you thought you'd have a least a bit more time before it did.
"Haven't seen a real lightsaber before," The other muses, the two of them in the back looking over the silver and gold-plated handle, "You're going to make us rich, girl"
"Give it-" You struggled against the hold of the hunter only for the knife to cut down into the tender skin of your neck, making your words collapse into a breathy cry of pain. He kept the knife embedded slightly into your skin, his eyes boring into yours as a smirk captured his lips, "Move again, and I'll knick an artery on accident. Then, we can see how long it will take for the life to drain out of your eyes."
The word accident rolled off his tongue with a promise, and you fought back a shiver of fear. The press of the burning steel in your flesh was agonizing, and you realized all at once that you were going to die. Whether it was here and now with this group of hunters or when they handed you off to Finon Kane, you were going to die.
The thought made your body grow suddenly cold.
You'd spent so many years thinking that you'd never have a family again, that you'd never know what it meant to love and be loved. It became your bleak reality, and then you quite literally stumbled into the two individuals that would become your entire world.
It was selfish of you to stay, so damn selfish. Deep down, you had known that Kane would put a bounty on your head, that he'd find you one day and make you pay for every bit of trouble he'd endured because of you. Yet you did it anyway. You stayed and you let yourself grow attached beyond hope.
You let yourself fall in love, and that was possibly the worst of the sins you'd committed.
And, just like the other sins, you had thought you could run from that one, thought its penance would never arrive. Now here you were, facing death at the hands of those in the very same profession as your Mandalorian while he was far away on Tatooine, probably wondering what had gone wrong. You knew you'd hurt both him and the child by leaving, but you would rather they be hurt and alive than dead.
"Now," The one holding you announces, stepping back and easing the knife out of your throat, "It's time to bring you to your master in top shape."
You barely had time to register the warm blood trickling down your neck from the cut of the hunter's knife before his fist was cracking against your cheek. The force of the unexpected blow slammed your head into the wall and brought you crashing to the ground. Your groan was just out of your mouth when the next blow came, this one to your ribs. A cry of pure agony slipped out as a loud crack resounded amongst your rib cage with the powerful kick, making tears collect in your eyes.
You felt utterly helpless as you desperately tried to lift yourself off of the ground, but you were so tired. You were utterly exhausted, and it took every ounce of your strength to pull out your beskar knife and slash the tendons along the back of one of the hunter's heels. Purple blood sprayed and he shouted, collapsing to the floor beside you.
"Get back here, you little bitch!" One seethed, grabbing you by your hair and yanking you up to your knees. Before your eyes could focus on where he was, you slashed with your knife. He must have seen it coming because he grabbed your wrist in a bruising grip.
"Drop the knife," He growled, one of his hunter companions still on the floor clutching his ankle and the other standing by the one who held you, the lightsaber handle in his hands.
"Give me the saber," You bargained breathlessly, your voice crutched with torment.
The hunters didn't like that very much, and the one holding the saber slammed it against your cheek. You took the hit with a groan, enough pain already crawling through you that you barely even felt it.
"This isn't a negotiation," The one holding you gritted, "Drop. The. Knife."
It was stupid, and you knew that you should just listen at this point, but you couldn't stop yourself from lifting your chin stubbornly and holding his gaze, "You'll have to break my hand."
"With pleasure," He snarled, his grip tightening on your wrist. Before he could snap it, a low, modulated voice rasped into the alley.
"Break her hand, and I'll make sure your death is the slowest."
You shut your eyes instantly, your shoulders loosening with both relief and agony. He'd come for you. Din had found you, and you couldn't stop the bittersweet feeling crashing through your soul. You wanted to hate him for it, wanted to scream at him and knock the sense of your desertion into his brain. But you knew you weren't capable of hating Din Djarin, not even if you wanted to. Especially not now as he stood like a dark angel in the entrance to the alleyway, glowering with rage wholly directed at the hunters left standing.
"This is our bounty, Mandalorian," The one holding the lightsaber sneered, "Find another-"
He was dead before his sentence could complete, his neck twisted at a wrong angle from where Mando had snapped it with his bare hands.
That made the one holding your wrist let go of you instantly.
"Y-You can have her, she's all y-yours Mandalorian." He stumbled back, running into his downed companion who had finally managed to limp to his feet.
Din didn't respond as he stooped slowly, grabbing the lightsaber and slipping it along his holster. He was as silent as death as he stalked up to you, his beskar clinking slightly in the tense silence. You were still on the floor, your skin bloody and your heart pounding so fast you thought it would burst. You wanted to crash into him and hold him, never letting go. You wanted to let him take you back to the Razor Crest and help you figure all of this out. You were safe with him. But he wasn't safe with you, and neither was the child. You had to protect the child, you had to protect Din.
The two remaining hunters were frozen in terror, trapped in the dead end alley like cornered prey. Din stopped in front of you, his mask peered down at you as his hand reached out. Much gentler than you could even imagine, his hand softly gripped your chin and tilted it upwards and to the side so he could see the blossoming, nasty bruise on your cheek.
His gentle fingers were in a fierce dichotomy with the rigid, furious posture of his body. Mando slid them down, leaving lightning where he touched as he lightly traced the cut in your neck. Your gaze locked with his mask, and he held it for a long minute. Then, he dropped his hand and cocked his head over at the two hunters.
"Which one cut you, cyar'ika?" His voice was dark and tender all at once, and it sent a shiver racing down your spine.
"The one limping," You responded without hesitation, your eyes up on him as he nodded once and began to stalk towards the two hunters.
Confusion rippled across their features, and the one who hadn't cut you was quick to shove his ally in front of him. Their loyalty only ran monetary, and even though you knew it wouldn't save his life he had to try.
"What are you doing? I t-thought you were a hunter!" The hunter who the Mandalorian had his sights on was shaking with terror, and it brought you a wicked sense of justice.
"I am."
The next few moments passed in a mess of beskar and knives and blood. The last remaining hunter could only watch in horror as Din ripped his colleague apart with a confidence that could make any skilled fighter wary. The man's pleas and cries were shrill, and the people on the main road were wise enough to keep walking as they passed.
Then, it was quiet. And Din turned to the last hunter pressed against the wall across from you.
"No, please. I'll tell you anything you want, I'll give you anything please!" He begged, but his hurried words were cut off by Din's hand on his throat. He tugged the hunter close, his beskar helmet splattered with blood.
"If you find anyone taking her bounty, tell them what happened here. Make sure they know they will suffer the same fate. Understand?" Din's tone was taught with thinly veiled anger, and you could tell that it was an effort to keep from killing the man.
The hunter nodded briskly, his eyes wide and his legs trembling. When the Mandalorian finally released him, he was sprinting out of the alley, leaving a tense silence to settle over the two of you that remained. Din turned towards where you still sat on the ground, and as he walked over you were suddenly aware of the conversation that was about to happen, the anger he was about to rain upon you.
Mando extended a hand down to you, which you took and gladly accepted his help as you stood. Your hand gingerly pressed against your cracked rib, every breath and every minuscule movement sending sharp, shooting pain through the area, "You alright?"
"I will be," You nearly whispered, you eyes locked onto his brooding, helmeted stare. There was only mere inches between the two of you, and you knew that if you stayed this close, you wouldn't be able to leave again. You went to step back, but he tightened his hold on your hand enough to keep you close.
"Let me go," You breathed, the words meaning more than just physically.
"What the hell were you thinking?" Din gritted out, his voice conveying the worry and hurt and anger that his mask hid. His voice broke your heart.
"Din, you have to let me go." You were almost begging now, and you could feel the tears welling in your eyes. He shifted his hold so that he was holding both of your hands, probably to keep you from reaching for the saber at his belt.
"Not again," He vowed, his usually collected voice portraying how barely bridled his emotions were, "Not until you tell me why the hell you left me."
You were silent for a moment, trying desperately to find a way to speak without showing just how deeply this was shattering your heart, your soul.
"Did you really think I would turn you in? That I would collect your bounty?" Din asked finally, his voice breaking.
"No," Your shaky voice finally began to work, growing stronger by the moment, "That's the thing, Mando. You wouldn't, which means when these hunters came looking for me, they'd find you and the child."
"You think I can't protect you?"
"Din, I have never known safety until I met you," You swore, the tears collecting in your eyes beginning to fall, "But the man who's hunting me, Finon Kane? He will stop at nothing until he has me and the lightsaber. If I had stayed, I would be giving you and the child a death sentence."
"Y/N, you're staying with me." The Mandalorian asserts, his voice trembling. You shake your head, your tears falling steadier now.
"Din please, you have to leave me here. Protect the child, it's your duty. You have to forget you ever knew me, forget I was ever with you, forget me."
"You think I could do that?" He cuts in abruptly, tugging you closer to show the urgency and truth of his words, "You think I could ever walk away and just forget you?"
His words were dangerous, and you tried to stop him, "DIn-"
"You have ruined me, ner cyar'ika. Every moment I spend away from you is torture, it's a moonless night that never ends."
His words leave you breathless, your eyes wide and your heart stumbling in your chest as you try and fail to find a response. He won't let you speak, though.
"The child and you? You are my clan, my family. You two are all that I have, and I am nothing without you," He's so close now that you can almost hear the unmodulated tone of his voice. Din lets go of one of your hands to rest at the base of your neck and bring your head close to his. What he does next...it's a moment that will forever be etched into your brain.
He brings his forehead to yours, and he leaves it there for a moment. The cool metal of his helmet bleeds into your skin, and you can't stop the soft gasp that leaves your lips. You grab onto his beskar-plated chest for support because you know what this is. On easy nights, Din would often sit and tell you stories of the Mandalorian culture. He spoke once or twice of the Keldabe kiss, a gesture meant to show love and affection. The meaning of this moment was not lost on you, and it nearly ripped out your heart to think that he could...that he could love you back. He possibly loved you and now you were about to die.
"I'm not leaving you," Din murmured, the cool beskar of his mask pulling away from your forehead. You felt the cool metal of something pressing into your hands and you look down to see him handing you the lightsaber, "We'll end this together."
You couldn't look away from him, couldn't bring yourself to walk away again. You were being selfish and stupid, but with what just happened, with what Din had just said, you couldn't leave him.
You simply nodded, "Okay."
Din nodded as well, stepping back from you, "Okay."
There was a moment of tension between the two of you, a moment where each was waiting for the other to say something more, to mention those three words that had yet to be spoken. You watched him walk towards the alley exit, following slowly behind. He'd begun to say some sort of strategy, but you weren't listening. You didn't know what was going to happen next, you didn't know how much time you had. You needed to say it, and you needed to say it now before you lost this chance.
"Mando?" You cut in, making him pause and look over at you as you entered the streets of Felucia, "I love you"
The Mandalorian froze, his muscles going taught. The bustling world around you seemed to dull for a moment, and all that was left was you and him. Your heart pounding in your chest and you felt your breaths getting shorter and shorter as you waited for his response.
You heard Din take in a breath to respond, but someone beat him to it.
"So this is what you've been doing all this time."
It was your turn to freeze, and your gaze was still locked on the Mandalorian's as your eyes went wide with fear, with terror. You knew that voice. You'd know that voice if the galaxy ended and then begun again a hundred times over.
Slowly, you turned to face Master Finon Kane and the six storm troopers that flanked him.
"I believe you have something of mine," Kane cut straight to the chase, his troopers making quick work of clearing the street while he stood not ten paces from you. Your fingers tightened around the handle of the lightsaber still in your grasp, and you saw Kane's eyes dart down to it.
"Hand it over now, and I might consider killing you. Your Mandalorian doesn't scare me."
There was no hiding the blatant horror inundating you. Those words, you knew what they meant. You preferred death to what you knew life with Kane would promise. Staring into his eyes, you were reliving every moment of pain you'd endured at his hands—every beating, execution, and humiliation, they haunted you.
You didn't know when Din had moved to your side, but you felt the nudge of his body next to yours, and it knocked you from your spiral. He was letting you know that he was there, that he wasn't going anywhere. And, looking at the odds, you could honestly say that the two of you had fared worse.
“Stand down and I’ll make your death quick,” you fire back, your voice surprisingly strong. Kane barked out a laugh as the six troopers fell into line behind him.
"You can't kill me, pet. You know it and so do I." With a flick of his fingers, his troopers were moving, two next to Kane and four fanning out in front of us.
"I know that," You responded quietly, but not weakly. Your fingers barely brushed against Din's hand, the movement so small it was imperceptible to those before you, but the way his fingers touched yours gave you the assurance that you were about to make the right move, "But he can."
The troopers couldn't even raise their blasters before Din and you moved on them. The next few moments were a blur, shining beskar and frantic blasts missing their targets as Din cut down the troopers with ease. You could hear feel the blast of the fire caster on his wrist as he incinerated two more.
He had four dead before you could even turn on the lightsaber.
Your eyes shot to Kane's, whose were wide with shock and a bleat of panic when he saw your hands move to grasp the lightsaber before you.
"Don't-"
His cry died in his throat when the red saber born of a bleeding, hate-filled kyber crystal ignited before you. You barely new how to use it, but it wasn't difficult to shove the burning side into the armor of the troopers.
Then, it was silent.
Din sauntered up beside you, standing tall and strong with his helmet cocked intimidatingly at Kane. You didn't turn off the lightsaber, but let its red light cast a vengeful glow across your features.
"You think you're so clever," Finon Kane spat, his desperation betraying him, "You think you could so easily b-"
His words were cut off by the hiss of a lightsaber meeting flesh, and something in your chest loosened as you looked up from where you had shoved the saber deep into his belly. Your old master's eyes were wide and his mouth gaping. He was shocked, he really hadn't thought you could do it.
"For every friend of mine you slaughtered," You grit out, shoving the lightsaber an inch deeper and making him cry out in pain, "Their souls are avenged."
He was dead before his body hit the ground, and you simply sheathed your lightsaber, looked to your Mandalorian, and walked away. You didn't realize that you were trembling until the two of you walked outside the city gates and Din's hand grabbed onto yours, large and warm and sure. The Razor Crest sat waiting ahead of you, and you nearly buckled and sobbed in relief.
"It's over," You whispered, you eyes dazed and your words no more than a breath as the gravity of what just happened crashed over you.
You stopped walking in front of your beloved ship, turning to face Din as he did you, "I'm...I'm free"
You let out a breathy, wild, joyous laugh and launched forward, wrapping your arms around the Mandalorian's neck. He paused only for a moment before you felt him melt into you, his hands slipping around your waist and holding you closer than life.
"Thank you, Din," You whispered, your words a vow and a prayer, "I am forever in your debt."
His hold on you tightened, one hand slipping up your back to hold more of you to him, "You owe me nothing. Your life is yours to hold, you are no longer in the service of any master."
Tears you hated to acknowledge slipped down your cheeks, and you were glad to be pressed so close to him so that he couldn't see them fall. He knew, though. He knew.
You didn't want to pull away, didn't want to know again what it felt like to be away from him. Eventually, it could not be avoided. You wanted to get on the Crest and fly away from this place, to bring your life back to the normal you'd fallen so deeply in love with, the one with the child and the bounties and the adventure and him. Especially him.
"Now," You announced, your tone light and jovial as you pulled away and looked up at Mando with a smile, "Where's the child? I'm sure he's been miserable without me,"
You began to walk up to the Crest, but you hadn't realized that the Mandalorian hadn't followed you until his voice called out and made you pause.
"He's with Peli, safe and sound."
You stopped in your step and turned around to see Din walking slowly up to where you stood. Something in his tone made your heart jolt. Your voice was no more than an unsure whisper when you spoke next, "That's good."
Din hummed, and the sound made every thought abandon your mind. He stopped in his gait when he was just in front of you, but not as close as you thought he'd be.
"Are we going to...get on the ship?" You asked, for the first time unaware of what he was going to do next.
"We will," He finally responded, taking one step closer to you and suddenly making you realize why he'd left the room that was quickly dissipating. He was torturing you, playing with you, and once again uncaged butterflies swarmed your insides, "But first, I want to talk about what you said earlier."
His voice was low and smooth and sure, in direct contrast to your trembling one as you tried to act cool. He was making you squirm and he loved it, "You'll have to be more specific, Mando."
Din took that last step closer to you, nearly closing the gap as he tilted his masked face down at you in a way that had your head spinning, "You know what I'm talking about, mesh'la."
You grappled for a response, you really did, but you didn't know what to say, didn't know how you could possibly respond cooly to that.
"Look at you, finally the speechless one." His voice was taunting and you could hear the smile in it. He grew more serious as he slowly pulled off one of his gloves and achingly slow brought his calloused hand to brush against your cheek. His skin on yours again almost had you buckling to the ground.
"Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, cyar'ika," Din's words blanketed over you with such a tenderness that your mind raced to understand what they meant. You didn't have to think long, because Din held your chin and brought his beskar-masked forehead to yours, "I love you too, sweetheart."
In all the years of captivity under the Imperial rule on Corrida, you never thought you'd hear those words again, I love you. They were sacred and seldom spoken, and you had stopped hearing them long before your family was taken from you. And now here you were, pressed close to Din Djarin, a Mandalorian whose ship you stowed away on in pure coincidence, and you were hearing those words be said to you in a way that no one had before.
His voice was quiet and playful as he leaned closer to your ear, "And I've got plenty of ways to show it once you get your ass on the damn ship."
Din stepped back from you and turned, walking to the Crest as if he hadn't just promised you everything you've been dreaming of for months. With your pulse thrumming wildly, you followed after him.
"What about the lightsaber? We need to return it to the New Republic," You called out.
The hatch opened to the crest and he walked in without looking back, "They can wait. I can't."
Your cheeks were warm with a blush as you followed him into the Crest, and you couldn't help but wonder how you'd gotten this lucky, what you had done to deserve this. You didn't know, but all you knew was that you'd waited for long, torturous years to have the freedom of forever, and here it was. Here he was. Din Djarin was your forever, no matter how long the breath was left in your lungs.
Your past had finally died, and the ghosts had stopped haunting you. Your present was now your future, and you'd never look back again.
Hi! I just binged read your Bucky fics and I loved them so much especially More it was SO good and Prey too 😍
I was wondering if you had a taglist for him please? Thanks you :)
I’m just now catching up on all of my asks and submissions, so sorry for the wait haha! I can for sure make a taglist for Bucky-related posts! Anyone else who would like to be included on this list just comment below 🤍🤍
Summary: The line between friends and lovers is impossibly thin, yet somehow the hardest line to cross. It's a line that you and Bucky just can't seem to break, but it's nothing one of Tony's infamous parties can't fix.
A/N: Another fluffy one for me, which is still something I'm growing used to writing. I'm getting anxious for some angst, so ask me for some and I'll see what I can do!
Warnings: two idiots in love, slight angst, tooth-rotting fluff, language, allusions to smutty content, jealous Bucky
Word Count: 7,206
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The whisper of lightning, the promise of thunder, the answer of rain. The sky darkens and the sun is forgotten, casting a gloomy light on the earth below.
And yet, in the midst of all that chaos, I find it to be a chemical mixture for peace.
“Y/N, Y/N what the hell are you doing out there?”
That illusion of peace shatters, and I let out low groan, keeping my eyes shut as the raindrops fall down on my form outstretched on the pavement.
“I was having a peaceful moment of bliss until someone decided now was an opportune time to bother me,” I call back.
“An opportune time to-” I hear him cut off incredulously, muttering something to himself as heavy, booted feet slosh through the rain to reach me, “Get off the damn driveway, doll. You’re gonna get sick.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s a myth,” I respond, staying pleasantly where I lay right in front of the Avengers Compound.
“Myth my ass, now get up and inside before I throw you over my shoulder and do it for you.”
I click my tongue, not having to open my eyes to know my best friend is standing right beside me, “So much violence, so much language. You should join me, some inner peace would do you good.”
Thunder cracks above, rumbling through the earth and into my bones. Even though I don’t hear his steps moving away, Bucky goes silent beside me. I begin to think he’s taking me up on my offer of a little rain therapy.
“See,” I sigh into the cacophony of nature, “Isn’t that peaceful? Maybe-”
I don’t even have time to react when a pair of strong arms, one of them freezing cold due to the metal in the rain, grab my waist and lift me clear off the floor. My eyes snap open with a jolt as I see myself being thrown over Bucky’s shoulder just like he promised.
“What the-” I stop myself as he secures me with his arm dangerously near my ass and slap his broad, muscular back, “You little bitch!”
“A little bitch who’s gonna keep you from getting a cold,” Bucky responds, and I can hear the smugness in his tone from back here, “Is the rain still peaceful?”
“No, there’s a jackass who got in the way.”
I feel his body rumble with laughter, feel the noise pass through my body and make my heart tumble in its cage. With that, his arm edging near a zone that’s clearly more than friends, and the sight of his wet t-shirt stuck to his back, I feel the anger flood from my body. Instead, I find myself thinking about what his abs look like with his rain-soaked shirt pressed against them.
Damn it, I’ve really got it bad.
I try my hardest to shove the image from my mind, but it only sticks harder and makes the spot where Bucky’s hand rests burn. I notice his metal hand on the other side, rain dripping off of it, and I can’t help but let my mind trace to-
I halt my thinking abruptly. He’s your best friend, he’s your best friend, he’s your best friend.
He’s my unfairly hot, broody, and annoyingly heart-fluttering best friend
With his free hand, Bucky shoves open the front doors to the Avenger’s Compound, walking a few steps until we enter one of the large, high-ceiling living areas where a television blasts a movie.
“I told you,” Tony announces after the group of my friends and teammates sees Bucky walking in with me on his shoulder, “Sam, you owe me five bucks.”
“Put me down, terminator,” I grunt, to which Bucky finally sets me on my feet.
Immediately I go to hit him, but the sudden change in my body’s gravity sends me off balance slightly. I stumble back slightly, trying to make the blood rush from my head so I can balance again.
“Woah, careful there, Bambi,” Bucky laughs, gripping onto my waist to help steady me.
Where his hands touch, metal and skin alike, my skin sets on fire. The radiating electricity from his touch only annoys me further and I shove out of his hands, swatting his chest.
“I’m fine,” I grumble, tilting my chin up to meet his gaze and holding a finger in his face like a scolding parent, “Next time you manhandle me, I’m going to remove your arm like Ayo showed me.”
Bucky smirks at me coolly and says something, but I miss it because my eyes drop down to where his t-shirt sticks to his abs from the rain. Just like I imagined it would, it makes my mouth go dry and my heartbeat miss a step.
“See something you like?” Bucky taunts.
Cheeks flushed, I look up at him calmly and smile, “Just thinking about what a shame a body like that is wasted on the grumpiest man alive.”
The group of Avengers lounging around the various chairs and couches in the living room snicker, their attention drawn from the television. He lifts an eyebrow at me and those infuriating steel blue eyes ricochet my pulse.
“Sure you were.”
“Whatever,” I mumble, turning and looking at team, “Who bet against me?”
Tony, Bruce, Wanda, and Nat lifts their hands and I gasp, pressing a hand to my chest in feigned hurt.
“Traitors,” I grumble, not being able to stop the smile that wants to twitch onto my lips as Bucky walks up beside me and rests his arm on my shoulder.
“They bet right, didn’t they?”
I look up at him with the half-smile I wasn’t able to stop, “Screw you,”
I turn around and leave the living room, making my way towards my room so I can shower and change. From behind me, I hear Bucky’s laugh that sears itself into my memory.
“Love you too, doll!” He calls out, and my heart launches into my throat.
He doesn’t mean it like I want him to, not like how I mean it. Not like how I've meant it for months.
As I finally get to the confines of my bedroom, I shut to the door and let out a trembling breath. I keep my back pressed to the door for a moment, leaning my head against it and forcing myself to forget the way his hands felt, to strike from my memory the beauty of his laugh. When I finally peel off my wet clothes and step into a scalding hot shower, I let the water and steam surround me long after I'm already clean.
I'm a coward, a coward and a fool for falling for my best friend and not being able to say a word to him about it.
Long after I'm out of the shower and cuddled up with a book on my bed, a knock sounds on my door. I've barely glanced up at it in confusion when Natasha's voice calls out, "I know you're probably reading a book but put it down and let me in unless you want me to break down the door."
A half-smile tugs onto my lips and I set my book aside, untangling myself from my covers and opening the door for my friend. She gives me a smug smile and waltzes in, plopping down on my bed. I can't help but shake my head at her as she makes herself at home.
"Why are all of my friends so violent?" I taunt, sitting down next to her.
"Most of us are trained assassins." Nat gives me a playful nudge, already lifting my spirits from the gloom and doom they were resting in. Her knowing gaze immediately notifies me that I can't escape the conversation to come, so I don't even bother to skirt around it.
"Why does my life suck?" I groan, dropping down onto my back dramatically. Nat laughs beside me, shaking her head down at me.
"So many questions tonight," She remarks, following the words with a tired sigh and laying down beside me. As we both stare up at my ceiling, my mind is held captive by one person. Both it and my heart have been held hostage and I'm starting to understand the truth in Stockholm Syndrome.
"You know, and brace yourself because this is gonna blow your mind, you could just tell him how you feel," Nat advises.
"And risk ruining everything that we already have?" I reply, my brows creased in an ever-present state of worry, "I could live with being friends with him forever as long as it meant I still had him in my life. But if I tell him how I feel and it changes everything to the point where he can't even be around me?"
I take a charged pause, startled by the sudden rise of emotion. I swallow down the burning pain, but ultimately I decide to go easy on my breaking heart. The poor thing doesn't know any better. All it knows is that it wants Bucky Barnes and I keep locking it and its desires into a cage of bones in my chest.
"A life without him...I couldn't live like that."
Nat sits up beside me, catching my attention in time to see the sympathy flashing across her features, "Y/N, I know it's scary but if you'd just trust me I think the outcome would surprise you."
She can tell that I'm still not convinced, so in a last ditch effort to rally me from my slumber of inaction, she reaches across me and grabs the book I was reading. I sit up, a protest just starting on my tongue as I reach for it. She pulls it out of my reach and holds it in front of her chest, displaying the cover for me to see.
"Do any of the characters in these books ever fare well from denying their passions?" Nat asks, and I find that she has me in a figurative corner, "Do their stories end well when they decide, 'Nah, I'm too scared to tell him I love him'?"
"I don't love him," I protest, but the lie is sour on my tongue and allergic to my soul. It gets rejected so quickly by everything within me that I almost think I'll have a physical reaction to it.
"Bullshit." Nat challenges, setting the book aside and grabbing my hands. I shake my head, trying to escape her arguments that my heart jumps in agreement with.
It's a brutal thing, to have your heart yearn for one thing and your mind so resolutely against it. I've always thought it strange how the dichotomy of desires could root in a person, but it makes sense in a way. The heart is led by our passions, our intuitive cravings. The mind is hardwired by nature and instinct to protect us, to propel our survivals.
Even if that means our passions must be slaughtered.
I'm keeping my mind in charge by sheer will that's hanging precariously over the edge of a cliff. My will only has a few fingers left to hold with, and I can feel it slipping every day Bucky's near me, every time his skin brushes mine, every time he simply is.
“I need to move on,” I almost desperately announce, gripping handfuls of my sweatshirt to keep from crying, “I need a way to move or this is going to kill me. He’s going to kill me.”
Sympathetic to my distress, Natasha lays a reassuring hand on my shoulder, “You know, with Tony’s Semi-Annual Charity Gala coming up this weekend it’s the perfect time to move on.”
I perk up slightly, the thought breaking a sliver of hope in the pit of despair and self-pity I allow to well up. For an Avenger, I sure know how to wallow in pain.
“…or make a move on a certain super soldier.” Nat continues.
“Don’t be silly, I’d never steal Steve away from you,” I jest, my tone wavering but stronger than before. Nat rolls her eyes from beside me before shoving my shoulder. With a sigh, I finally meet my friend’s gaze, “One last chance. One chance and then I’m putting myself out of my misery”
That’s so easily said. The unspoken truth is that my poor heart doesn’t stand a chance. It hasn’t for a long time.
“Great!” Nat smiles, squeezing me into a side hug on the bed, “I’ll start planning your outfit now!”
And with that, she’s off my bed and into my closet. As we spend the better part of the night deciding on what to wear to the upcoming gala, I can’t help but let my mind stray to its usual focus. With a groan of exhaustion, I drop my head into my hands and tell myself that same lie.
“He’s my best friend. That’s all.”
It’s getting harder and harder to believe.
|||
A few days later
It's been a few days since the rain incident, and I've finally managed to garner a moment alone from everyone. It's not that I don't love being around them, but it taxes me more than I care to admit to be around him.
A forlorn sigh brushes past my lips, but as I nestle down on the floor in the library Tony had put into the Compound, I find my worries drifting away. Instead, they're replaced with the story in the pages, rapturing my attention and distracting my mind.
That is, until the door opens and I feel his presence before I see or hear him.
"There you are, doll. I've been looking for you all day," Bucky calls, his deep, smooth voice cascading into my very soul. I shut my eyes for a moment, trying desperately to not let it show on my face how jarring it was to be snapped from the book to the person I've been trying to avoid.
"You've been looking for me?" I ask, managing to make my voice seem calm and pleasant. He approaches where I'm sitting on the floor, a breath-stealing smile tugging at his lips.
"Course I have, I haven't seen you in days," He replies, his face the picture of relaxed calm, drawing a fierce dichotomy to the barely-veiled confliction on my own. Bucky takes a moment, surveying me sitting on the floor amidst all of the chairs and couches available. He lifts an amused brow at me.
"Why are you on the floor?"
I can't stop myself from smiling up at him and all control I had in keeping myself away from him disintegrates, "It's more comfortable to me. Are you judging me Barnes?"
His laugh bursts light into the depths of me, and as I watch his face relax I can't help but look on in awe at how far he's come. When he first joined the team, he was withdrawn and quiet and even grumpier than he is now. He never smiled, never laughed, and barely spoke. Now, of course he's adorably grumpy most of the time, but he smiles and laughs. He enjoys life, and he more than anyone else in this world deserves to enjoy life.
"What're you reading?" Bucky asks, and I try to ignore the way my pulse rockets up when he settles down beside me on the floor.
He stretches out his long legs, keeping the one furthest from me bent and resting his arm on top it. His other leg is stretched out and nearly touching my own. To help balance his weight, he settles the hand closest to me, his metal hand, onto a spot on the floor behind my back. The position makes his chest brush against my shoulder ever so slightly and all I can feel is the burning of his presence and the searing of his gaze.
"Just some fantasy book," I reply, not wanting to bore him.
I look over at him to see his eyes already on my face, his own radiating a serene peace. He furrows his brows at my prolonged examination of his features and the ghost of a smile twitches at the corner of his lips, "What is it?"
"Nothing, it's just," My mouth has gone dry again, and I can't seem to clear the haze on my mind, "You look at peace."
"Well someone pretty incredible suggested rain therapy, which works like a charm for my grumpiness."
A laugh bubbles out of me, only widening the smile on his face. I find myself subconsciously leaning into his presence and bringing our faces closer.
"Seriously," Bucky continues, making me realize our proximity and pull back to a normal distance, "I'm always at peace around you."
My heart doesn't just miss a step, it stumbles and falls and nearly gives out in my chest. His words affect every part of me and it's a feat of pure resilience that I don't reach over and press my lips to his.
"Unless you're doing something stupid and testing my nerves," He adds on, lightening the air and making me giggle. He nods towards the almost forgotten book in my hands.
"You were going to tell me about your new read," Bucky reminds, and I smile.
I spend the next ten minutes detailing what's happening in the book, my excitement about it taking over and making me ramble on without barely taking any breaths. I occasionally look between the book and Bucky, sometimes gesturing with my hands to establish my enthusiasm.
Even when I'm not looking at him, Bucky's gaze never leaves my face.
So much for giving myself space to try and move on from him. That thought is far from my mind, though. The longer I’m near him, the closer he is, the harder it is to remember to forget him. And now, with Tony’s Gala tomorrow night, I don’t know how I’m going to move on.
Maybe I really can give this one last shot. It could break me if it goes wrong, but I have a feeling I’ll break a little regardless.
|||
The next night
Not even the pounding of the music and the chatter and clatter of hundreds of guests can drown out my racing mind.
“Stop tugging at your dress, you look great,” Natasha chides from beside me.
With a huff of anxiety, I heed her words and stop fiddling with the snug material of the one-sleeved dress. It hugs my curves down to my waist before draping elegantly to the floor, broken only by the high slit up the thigh.
“I know,” I reply, downing my second drink of the night and setting down the empty glass on the tray of a passing waiter with a brief smile, “I just haven’t seen him yet. He’s coming right? Tony told us all to be here, so he wouldn’t just-”
“Why does there have to be so many people here?”
My words die out at the distant but unmissable rumble of words behind me. I turn around, and my entire world seems to focus on the epicenter that is Bucky Barnes as he walks in beside Sam Wilson.
“It’s a party man, I thought you loved parties back in the day,” Sam replies, smiling at a few people as he walks in.
“Yeah well I don’t like people like I did then,” Bucky grumbles back, messing with the edges of his all-black suit that is tailored so perfectly that it hones every inch of his body.
His broad shoulders, his muscular form, his piercing blue eyes in a fierce dichotomy with the darkness of the getup…I almost trip in my heels.
“You don’t like any people? That breaks my heart, Barnes,” I manage out coolly, walking up to the pair with a half-smile tugging on my lips and my heart dancing with the butterflies within.
Bucky’s gaze turns from the party goers to where I walk up to them, and a part of me melts at the way a light filters into his features. His dashing smile makes my own grow before I can stop it. The way he simply stops for a moment and stares at me, as if the throngs of people around us don’t exist…
It’s more than an effort to shove my poor heart into its shackles.
“I guess you’re an exception, doll,” He amends, and Sam rolls his eyes beside Bucky as they stop before me.
“It’s not like I’m right here,” Sam announces, making me giggle slightly and look to him.
“Hey Sam, good to see you,” I greet, walking over and hugging the man. He hugs me back, smiling brightly.
“Good to see you too,” Sam responds, his eyes catching on something over my shoulder, “Now if you’ll excuse me, I believe there are some fans who need me.”
I laugh as I watch him walk over and greet a group of women by the bar. When I turn back to Bucky, I shove down my nerves and shake my head as I pull him into a hug.
“You look incredible, Buck,” I announce, trying to ignore the rightness of his body against mine as he pulls me into a hug that lasts a moment more than I should have let it.
“Y/N,” he deadpans, pulling back but leaving his arms on my waist to admire me. His eyes sparkle with something akin to awe that makes hope rise in my chest, “You put me and everyone else in this room to shame.”
“You obviously haven’t looked in a mirror,” I remark, desperately trying to not show all over my face how beautiful he is.
Bucky just smiles. He looks at me and he smiles and I am undone.
My eyes catch on Natasha over Bucky’s shoulder as she mingles in the background of the party. When our gazes meet she gestures to Bucky with a hand, mounting the words ‘Come on’ as she does. Nodding back to her, I remember the conversation we had a few days ago and right before we joined the gala. I have to be bold and make a move, take a chance before I lose the ability to do so.
“So,” I turn back to Bucky, smiling knowingly up at him, “How’re you doing with the whole party thing?”
Bucky takes in a breath, nodding his head slightly as he surveys the party scene around us. Drinks are flowing, laughs rising, and music is permeating through every sector of the Avengers Compound. The floor shakes with the base and the clattering of shoes as he looks back to me, “Oh you know, just fantastic.”
“Is that so?” I taunt, almost laughing at the dripping sarcasm in his voice. He shoots me a grumpy glare that finally unleashes my laugh. At the sound, Bucky’s features soften and a smile touches his lips. I notice this and furrow my brows up at him.
“What?”
“Nothing,” Bucky whispers, just holding that’s soft smile in his eyes that makes me almost forget the track of the conversation. When I snap myself from my daze, I gasp.
“Oh, I almost forgot!” I exclaim, holding my clutch up and opening it to find what I stashed earlier, “I know how you are with parties like this and all so I thought that this might help make it a better memory.”
“You got me a gift?” Bucky asks, shaking his head at me with furrowed brows, “You should have told me, I would’ve gotten you something too!”
I shake my head, finally finding what I’m looking for and glancing up at Bucky, “Then it wouldn’t be a surprise, would it?”
With a bright smile to cover my pounding, anxious heart, I hold out the small book in my hands. Bucky glances down at the gift I hold out, and I watch his body go still. Anticipation dances in my belly as he ever so gently reaches out and takes the old, fading The Hobbit novel into his hands.
“It’s a first edition, don’t ask me how I found it,” I inform, playing with the fabric of my dress to give my now empty hands something to do, “I know how much you loved it and now when you’re watching me read in the library, you can read too.”
My words ring out between us, and yet Bucky barely moves. Just when I’m beginning to grow nervous, my heart melts into a puddle in my chest when he lifts his steel-eyed gaze to me. I’ve never seen him cry before, but here and now I can see the lining of unshed tears in his gaze.
“Buck-"
He closes the distance between us, pulling me so close to him that there’s no room for separation. I melt into the hug, becoming nothing more than an extension of his body. There’s no him. There’s no me. There’s only us as we’re suspended in time, caught in this moment.
“Thank you, Y/N,” he mumbles, not moving back an inch and letting his voice cascade over my neck and down my spine, “You don’t know what this means to me.”
Reluctantly, I pull back. Every part of me shouts in protest, but I know we have to separate as some point. I give him a soft smile, trying to ignore the noose that’s slowly tightening around my heart. I’m a goner. I have no chance of recovery.
“Don’t mention it,”
Bucky stares at me for another moment, the charged silence soon taking on an anticipated feel. We’re both waiting for the other to make the first move, I can sense it. I see Nat nudge me from afar again and decide to finally muster up my courage and stop waiting. I notice Bucky shakes his head at something, mumbling something to himself, but I press on.
“Hey, do you wanna da-”
“I’m gonna go get a drink,” Bucky bursts out at almost the same instant, making me cut off my sentence quickly.
A drink? He’s going to get a drink right now, as soon as I was about to ask him to dance? I know he didn’t mean it as a rejection, but it still stings like one.
“Oh, uh yeah sure. That’s-”
Before I can even finish speaking, Bucky has darted away desperately towards the bar at the North side of the room near Sam. I stand dumbfounded, my heart slowly sinking. This is going to be much harder than I thought.
|||
It's been nearly an hour and a half and Bucky is still managing to be everywhere that I am not.
I can take a hint. Even if that hint shatters my soul a little.
As I watch the super soldier mingle with some of the guests, a polite and slightly annoyed smile on his face, I feel something snap within my chest. Here I am, lounging pathetically at the bar all alone, and there he is, my best friend who I can't seem to fall out of love with. His strong jaw and steel eyes don't dare to turn in my direction, and I feel my fracturing soul crack even more.
I have to let it go. I have to let it go. I have to let him go.
With a long sigh, I pick up the drink before me and down its contents, letting the burn soothe away the edge of the crawling pain in my chest. Once the glass is slammed back down on the bar counter, I steel my nerves and stand.
It's time I stop feeling sorry for myself and move on.
My eyes scan the thick crowd scattered throughout every inch of Tony's gala. Music radiates through every molecule of air, and just one glance at the dance floor has my feet moving before my brain is. As I walk over to the dance floor, I see a random guy standing with a few others. He's cute enough with a charming smile, so I grab his arm as I walk past, making him glance over at me. I flash him my best smile and tug him towards the dance floor.
"Dance with me?" I ask boldly, and his smile widens.
"I'd be honored," He replies, letting me pull him onto the dance floor.
I should let myself be whisked away into the music and the movements and the feel of his hands on my hips as we dance. I should let the base and the crowd and the charming man before me wipe away every thought, but I just...can't. All I can think about when his hands slide gently on my waist is how different it feels when those hands are Bucky's. My heart is crushing slowly, and so I do everything I can to forget it.
It's actually beginning to work until the music abruptly cuts out.
Groans and boo's arise from the crowd with me on the dance floor as we all look around, trying to figure out why the music's stopped.
"That's so weird," The nice guy I'm dancing with mumbles. I mention my agreement, my eyes sweeping the edges of the party before I catch a glint of dark metal. My eyes fly back to the metal only to see Bucky storming away from the sound booth, his metal fist clenched so hard that I'm surprised it doesn't malfunction. In his metal grasp is a hunk of wires, and my stomach drops.
He did not.
"Don't worry folks! I'll have the music back up in no time," Tony announces, flashing his winning smile to the crowd as he jogs to the sound booth, "There was a slight malfunction"
I see him shoot Bucky a glare, but true to his words the music is back up in a matter of minutes. I feel anger begin to make my blood boil and I pull away from the guy I was dancing with. I see a frown pull onto his face as he lets me go but follows me a few steps.
"Are you okay?" He calls after me, and my heart twists in sympathy. I must look absolutely furious and he probably thinks it's pointed at him. So, I do my best to give him a sympathetic smile.
"I'm alright, thanks for the dance. I needed it," I comment, before turning and continuing my beeline for the brooding super soldier in the corner. He's standing with Sam, muttering something that I can't hear as I finally break through the crowd and walk up to them.
"Here we go," Sam mumbles, slowly backing away as I come to a stop in front of Bucky.
"What the hell, James?" I grit out.
"Oh she used the first name," Sam comments, his eyes widening, "I'm going to go check on Steve."
Then he leaves, and it's just Bucky and I. Bucky just shrugs, not meeting my furious gaze.
"I don't know what you're so mad about but-"
"Oh really? So you didn't just rip out the sound system?" I accuse, crossing my arms over my chest. He finally turns and meets my gaze, and damn it all I can't stop the swooning of my heart at the dark, rugged look on his face.
I'm angry, I remind myself. I'm angry with him.
"What does that have to do with you, sweetheart?"
I scoff, shaking my head at him, "You are unbelievable! I was finally starting to have a good night and-"
"Dancing with that handsy prick makes your night a good night then?" He interrupts, and I have to fight to keep the smug look off of my face at catching him.
"What were you saying about this having nothing to do with me?" I fire back, lifting an eyebrow. Bucky clenches his jaw and takes a step closer to me, probably expecting me to back off. I don't. Instead, I tilt my head up to meet his gaze, trying and failing to seem taller than him.
"I don't like you dancing with other men like that," Bucky informs, his voice dark. He's so close to me that his whiskey and pine scent invades my senses, threatening to empty my head of the argument at hand.
"I can dance with whoever the hell I want, Barnes. And since certain people made it very clear they didn't want to dance with me, then certain people should have no say in who I dance with"
"I don't dance, Y/N." His eyes are cool fire and they sear right through me. Even in this heated argument, all I can seem to think about is how badly I want him, body and soul. My thoughts are banished when he spits his next words out, "Not with you, not with anyone."
It shouldn't hurt. It shouldn't. So why do I have to fight to keep the hurt off of my face?
Just like that, the fire in my argument is gone. I nod, taking a few steps back, "Okay, that's all you had to say."
And then I turn around and leave before he can see the tears welling in my gaze.
I force myself into the crowd, making sure I move quickly and weave myself between those around me to get away as fast as possible. Then, with my heart in my throat, I finally make it to the outskirts of the party where a glass sliding door leads out into a training field. Through the glass, I can see rain pouring down into the dark, almost moonless night.
Seeing it unravels a bit of the pain within my chest, and I don't even think as I slip off my heels and walk outside. I shut the door behind me, muting the sounds of the party and leaving the downpour of rain and the distant rumble of thunder to take over my senses. I set my heels down carefully and walk out into the field, barely jumping when the cool, refreshing droplets begin to pound into my skin. It's not long before I'm soaked and my entire outfit is ruined. I don't mind, though. I'm not planning on going back there anyways.
I sit down in the grass, not even minding how it dirties my dress, and hug my knees close. When I slip my eyes shut, I'm reminded why I love the rain so much.
In moments like this, I can't distinguish my tears from the rain
I don't know how long I sit like this, my eyes shut and the rain drenching me. Eventually, my body stops shaking from the sobs that have now subsided and any evidence of my breakdown has been washed away. I'm almost at peace when I hear that voice, that stupid, addicting voice, ring out behind me through the storm.
"I'd say you'll catch a cold, but I don't think you'd care much"
I swallow hard, cursing my heart for the way it jumps. I open my eyes, but keep my gaze firmly forward across the training field.
"Especially since it's coming from you," I add on, grateful for the lack of tremor in my words.
"I guess I deserved that one," Bucky concedes softly, his voice getting closer. My body begins to shiver with the anticipation of him being close, the response purely visceral and out of my control. I just hope he thinks it's from the rain.
"You think?" I scoff lightly, not having the strength to be angry anymore.
It's silent for a long while, and I almost begin to think that he's left and gone back inside. I'm proven otherwise when I see Bucky walk out from behind me, standing right in front of where I sit with my knees drawn to my chest. Against my better judgement, I look up.
And there he is, drenched like I am and an unreadable look upon his stupidly handsome face.
"Bucky-"
He extends out his human hand, and my words die, "Dance with me."
Every part of my heart beams, and it’s an effort to keep the fluttering of my heart out of my body language. I pause for a moment, almost as if to give him time to retract his hand. When he doesn’t, I hesitantly meet his gaze.
“I thought you didn’t dance,” I whisper. His half-smile grows as he looks down at me with what almost looks like…adoration.
“I don’t,” Bucky confirms, his voice like sugar and pine, “But for you I’d do anything”
I can’t even try to hide the visceral effect his words have on me. With a thousand butterflies batting in my stomach and my heart beating viscously out of rhythm, I allow a small smile to grow on my lips. A new excitement in my chest, I reach up and slip my hand into his large, rough one calloused with work and time. It fits mine perfectly, as always, and his touch muddles my senses and wakes me up all at once, as always.
As he helps me stand, the rain still pouring down on us, he tugs me close to him so suddenly that I stumble right into his chest. A small laugh escapes my lips as I catch myself on his broad chest. Bucky’s so close, so warm, so intoxicating to me that every fiber of my being yearns for his proximity. I’m nothing but a firing hum of nerves and sparks being this close to him, with a hand on his chest and his arm secured around my waist.
And we dance.
There’s no music, there’s no reason. We just dance. Bucky’s magnificent at it, every step dripping in ease and cool confidence that only makes me love him more. I’m so caught in the moment that every thought of a reciprocated or unrequited love has been banished from my mind. All that exists is here and now, underneath the downpour of the heavens with the cacophony of nature as our song.
He twirls me around, making water splash up and a giggle bubble out of me when I slip and fall directly into him. His body rumbles with low laughter when he catches me stopping my fall. Bucky doesn’t even have to say a word for me to know he’s making fun of me, so I slap his chest with a huff of laughter.
“What?” Bucky’s amused voice is the harmony to the melody of the rain.
“I can feel your judgement from here,” I point out, but before I can raise my lightened gaze to meet his on my own, a metal hand hooks under my chin and gently turns my face up until our eyes clash.
Suddenly, I’m not so humored anymore.
Neither is he, I can tell. The air is different—still light with joy but now corded with something deep, rich, and intangible. His piercing blue eyes seem to be burdened with a million different thoughts, but I can barely bring myself to breathe let alone ask him what is going through his beautiful mind.
Bucky doesn’t say a single word, though. He doesn’t have to. My eyes glance down to his lips for no more than one half of a second, and by the time I’ve returned my gaze to his, he’s closing to distance between us and connecting his lips to mine.
I’ve never understood what is so special about kissing in the rain. I get it now. There’s something so dichotomously beautiful in this moment, in the cold, relentless rain and the desperate, burning heat of Bucky’s lips moving against my own.
Again, no words are needed for us both to understand. This kiss is everything that has been bottling up over our friendship. It’s every quiet moment in the library and loud moment in our arguments. As his hands tug me closer and ignite my skin as if it were burning clean off, as his lips and tongue move with mine, every thought and worry and tear-filled, longing night washes away. The very thought makes me sigh into the kiss, and finally we break apart only for the need for air.
Bucky doesn’t let me pull away an inch.
His arms keep my locked close, his forehead against mine as we both catch our breath. He nudged my nose with his before pulling away only enough to meet my gaze. One hand of his cradles my jaw, his thumb running lazy circles on my cheek.
“Does this mean you like me?” I whisper, a humored glint already lighting my gaze. Bucky laughs roughly, his voice sending shivers down my spine that don't go unnoticed. Rather, the other hand he keeps on my waist lifts to absently trace the path of the shiver, almost making my knees go weak.
“I more than like you,” Bucky quips, a content smile taking over his features. My heart misses a step and I don’t dare to dream.
“You really like me?” I taunt, and another heart-warming laugh pours from those perfect lips.
“You’re gonna make me say it, doll?”
I swallow thickly, my eyes not leaving his. I don’t dare to say another word, leaving the challenge up to him. Bucky sighs, moving the hand he keeps on my spine to cradle the other side of my face, now cupping it in his full grasp. He presses a long, gentle kiss to my lips before pulling back enough to where his lips still graze mine as he speaks.
“I love you, Y/N. Always have. Always will.”
My knees nearly go weak, and suddenly I'm so very grateful for the rain's ability to hide what is a drop and what is a tear. I'd never hear the end of it from him if he knew that's what his confession brought me to. When one of thumbs catches a stray tear, though, I know he's fully aware.
"I love you too, Buck."
Bucky smirks before me, bringing his mouth close to my ear and sending another shiver racing down my spine, "I figured that much out, sweetheart"
"Oh whatever!" I announce, hitting his shoulder but leaning in closer to his mouth that now trails from my jaw back to my lips. He presses a sweet kiss to my lips before holding me close to his chest and looking up into the sky that downpours upon us.
"Rain therapy, I guess it really does work," Bucky remarks.
"I would say I told you so, but-" I'm cut off by Bucky suddenly grabbing me by the waist and throwing me over his shoulder.
"What was that?" Bucky calls up to me, spinning me slightly and only making me giggle louder.
"Bucky, I'm in a dress!" I protest. He slaps my ass smugly and begins to walk with me still over his shoulder back to the compound.
"I know, let's get you out of that"
As my laugh tumbles out of my mouth, it twirls and dances and gets lost with the pounding of the rain and the rolling of the thunder. Once again, I'm in the debt of the rain, and I can't help but smile at it gratefully as my best friend and the love of my life walks triumphantly with me over his shoulder into the midst of Tony's nice party. Neither of us care about the looks we receive, though. Neither of us even notices.
Summary: When wedding bells sound like a death sentence, you flee your big day and desperately look for an escape plan. Lucky for you, Bucky and a motorcycle just happen to be there.
A/N: This one's short than usual and is actually fluff! I know, it's shocking even to me. 🤍
Warnings: none, for once
Word Count: 2,018
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Dreading your wedding day probably isn't the best sign.
My bridesmaids hurry around me, fixing the veil atop my perfectly styled hair and making sure my dress is perfectly fit. I should be smiling, giddy, maybe even a little nervous. Instead, all I feel is dread, cool and heavy in the pit of my stomach.
"Mom, how do you know if something you're about to do is right?" I suddenly ask when my mother walks by. She pauses and looks over at me, barely even registering my questions and beginning to gush about how beautiful I look.
"Oh honey, look at you all grown up!" she squeals, smiling warmly at me. She must not recognize the unease in my eyes because she completely dismisses my question.
"How did you feel on your wedding day?" I try again, this time garnering a response. A far away look takes to her face and her smile becomes nostalgic.
"Oh I remember it like it was yesterday," She begins, letting out a sigh, "I was nervous, sure, but I'd never felt lighter in my entire life. I was the happiest I've ever been"
This only makes me more uneasy.
"So you weren't having second thoughts?" I clarify, swallowing nervously and wringing my hands together before the tule of the bottom of the dress I didn't even like. I only bought it because Aaron, my fiancé, was paying and he liked this one best.
"Of course not, don't be silly!" My mom exclaims, letting out a laugh before turning on her heel and marching away to speak with one of the coordinators passing the outside of the room.
I open my mouth to call out again, but think better of it. Instead, I turn to my maid of honor who is doing the finishing touches to her makeup in the bridal suite of the church I didn't want to get married in. I'd always dreamt of an outdoor wedding, but Aaron, the money of the operations, didn't want the bugs or the elements interfering with his day.
"Am I doing the right thing?" I ask my maid of honor, hoping that at least she will give me a straight forward answer. My best friend turns towards me, a confused look upon her face. She approaches and fixes on last piece of my horrific dress with a sigh.
"Of course you are, this is just cold feet, Y/N," she assures, giving me a confident smile, "You and Aaron are great together. Think of the genius kids you'll have, think of how cute they'll be!"
The thought of having kids with Aaron nearly makes me sick, which increases the unsettled feeling of dread in my stomach. Looking into my best friend's excited eyes, I know that no one I talk to is going to say what I want to hear.
Which means that I already know the answers to my own questions.
Like a death toll, the bridal music starts up just outside the suite, alerting the bridesmaids that it's time to line up on the aisle with the groomsmen. They each give me a thumbs up or an excited smile before rushing out of the room, leaving me alone. With a racing mind, I examine the girl I see in the mirror.
A dress I don't like, a venue I didn't want...a man I don't love.
When the last thought hits me, I feel as though I've been woken up with a bucket of ice water, snapping me back to reality. My eyes widen slightly as I think over every date I've had with Aaron. Maddie was right, we are good together, but we aren't in love. This can't be what love is. It's always about what he wants, what he's feeling like, how he wants the day to go. Now that I think about it I don't think I ever chose one date we went on. He practically laid out our future—big house, same workplace, and three kids named Aaron Jr.
I never saw that for my life.
Even though it has been a while since I have even thought for myself, I have always seen so much more for my life. I want to travel anywhere and everywhere, and I crave a life of adventure and fun with my husband, a husband that I love. I only agreed to marry Aaron because everyone convinced me that it was perfect, convinced me that we were the perfect couple.
But not perfect for each other.
"What am I doing?" I breathe.
"Come on sweetie, it's almost your turn!" my dad calls out from outside the suite.
I jerk my head in the direction of the door and my heart rate begins to pick up its pace. As I walk towards the door and out into the area just outside the aisle where only my father waits, each bridesmaid already gone through, my mind becomes increasingly made up.
Never once was there any charge or chemistry between Aaron and I. Never once did I lie awake at night thinking about a life with him. I was so caught up in the excitement of everyone around me at the 'power couple' that I never stopped to question the countless times he'd blow me off or make passive aggressive comments about my intelligence being inferior to his, or even the times when he'd do what he wanted and not what I wanted because he automatically assumed that his mind was our mind.
I don't love him, I don't think I ever have. I just loved how happy I made everyone.
When the doors to the aisle open one last time and the bridal music swells, each person standing in the pews and turning to get a look at me, when my eyes connect with my fiancé who's smiling as though he's just won a game, I decide for one of the first times in my life that I'm done making everyone happy.
It's about time I do something that makes me happy.
My heart begins to hammer in my chest as my dad walks with me to the start of the aisle and I can't help the giddiness that begins to pool within me, replacing the dread. I'm not giddy to get married, but rather because I already know exactly what I'm about to do. The fact that the thought of what I'm going to do makes me so happy is all I need to seal my decision.
My eyes rapidly scan the back rows of the audience until my gaze finds the man I'm looking for. My best friend, the only person I've ever really felt like myself with, the man I've tried to deny my feelings for ever since I met him. My eyes meet Bucky's, and when he sees the look I give him, the thinly veiled sorrow in his vanishes. Suddenly, he sits up straighter and lifts an eyebrow at me. His eyes cast towards the door and I nod hurriedly. The fact that he understand what I mean to do without me saying a word...it makes my heart stumble in its rhythm.
Without another word, he's slipping out of his seat and rushing out of the church.
I freeze in my step, making my father halt beside me.
"Uh," I begin, pulling my arm from my dad's and surveying the increasingly confused church until my eyes connect with Aaron, who's features are beginning to crawl with panic at the look upon my face, "I...am so sorry for this"
Then I turn around and sprint away, not feeling sorry at all.
The room behind me erupts in frantic voices as confusion settles in. Above them all, I can hear the best man, Aaron's brother, laughing as he shouts out to me.
"RUN Y/N RUN!"
A crazy smile breaks onto my face and I laugh as I sprint right out of the church, bursting out of the doors and kicking off my heels in one motion. The front of my hideous dress is clutched in my fists as I hike it up to keep from tripping down the stairs
"Y/N! Stop! Y/N!" Aaron shouts into the spring New York air.
Pedestrians passing by all stop to survey the scene in shock and amusement as I jump the last four steps to the church in my wedding gown and begin sprinting down the sidewalk with my groom sprinting after me. As I do, I can hear a few people cheering and egging me on to run.
I cast a quick glance behind me to see Aaron being slowed down by some of the people who were cheering and I can't help but smile at the thought that they're doing it on purpose. I wave at them while I'm still turned.
"Thank you!" I call back, whirling around and searching the streets before me for Bucky. I can hear Aaron gaining on me and my giddiness turns to desperation. I falter in my sprinting, my frantic eyes scouring the streets for my best friend.
Just when my heart begins to fall, a motorcycle roars down the street and screeches to a halt in front of me.
"Need a ride?" Bucky calls out, a smirk dancing on his lips.
I smile wide, shaking my head at him and hopping onto the bike with my dress in my fists. I wrap my arm around his torso just as Aaron catches up and sees me. I tighten my grasp on Bucky, my stomach dropping slightly.
"Are you all good to-" he begins, but I cut him off in panic.
"GO GO GO!" I shout, and his motorcycle roars to life in response.
He pulls out onto the street and speeds away just in time. I look back to see Aaron stomping his foot in frustration behind us and when I wave at him, my veil flies off towards him in the breeze. I laugh, turning back around and smiling widely as the wind whips against my cheeks. I lay my cheek against Bucky's muscular back and sigh.
"You're my hero, Buck."
His muscles tighten at that before instantly relaxing in response. It's then that I realize what my words must mean to him. I know what he's been through, and I've been trying to convince him that he's good for so many years. I grasp onto him tighter, and not because of the wind.
"Anything for you, doll"
My heart flutters just like it has for years whenever I'm around Bucky. I don't know why I ever tried to convince myself that I could want anybody but him. Being here, pressed up against to him as he chariots me away from what would have been the worst decision of my life, I'm exactly where I'll ever want to be.
"Where are we going?" I call out over the wind.
"Anywhere you want, so long as I finally get to take you out on a date" Bucky calls back.
I'm glad for the roar of the bike and wind, because it hides the small squeal that leaves my lips. Sitting up straighter, I press a quick kiss to Bucky's shoulder and catch the way his lips twitch up.
"Finally, I thought you'd never ask," I reply.
"Well, you were kind of engaged," He reminds.
I smile, letting the city whizzing by and Bucky's taut muscles under my hands ease away the tension and pain and loneliness that has dominated me during Aaron and I's entire relationship.
"Not anymore,"I murmur, more to myself than anyone else.
I never once cheated on Aaron, not once. Even when I began to realize how badly I wanted Bucky, I still didn't cheat on Aaron. That is perhaps the only thing I don't regret from that relationship, because it makes this moment that much sweeter. Knowing I'm taking my life back into my hands, knowing I did it the right way, knowing Aaron had that stupid, smug smirk wiped off of his face.
Knowing I finally get to be in a relationship with someone I already love.
I absolutely love requests, and although I can't promise I'll do every single one I receive just because of how crazy and hectic life can get, I'll do my best! Below is a rough list of things to include in your requests, but for the most part do it however you like!
Character
Pick any you like and can think up! I am in many many fandoms so odds are I'll write for them! Make sure to include here if you want them in their regular universe or in an AU, and if so what kind.
Style
Here, make sure to let me know the vibe of the story you'd like. If you don't specifically say fluff or anything else you'd like, I'll probably make it a bit angsty. I want this to be everything you've dreamed of, so be specific!
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This one is a given but let me know what you'd like! Get creative, get fun, but be responsible and be smart. Don't request anything out of pocket or uncomfortable. I won't give a list because I shouldn't have to, but please just be smart with what you ask. I want to make this blog everything you want, an escape and a place of refuge. That is a team effort, so let's all be smart together 🤍
Summary: Six's job is simple—protect you and Claire. It should have been straight-forward, should have been easy. That is, until you fell in love. And love makes us do crazy things, things that make the simple job of protecting very difficult.
A/N: I'm back! I know it's been a while, but I'm on a break from university and I can actually breathe and do the things I love, like writing for a totally new character to me! It's another angsty whump, but what else do you expect? Some authors specialize in smut, others in fluff. I just happen to love the angst. And be honest, so do you. Love and miss you all, keep dreaming 🤍
Warnings: angst, blood, injury, language, happy ending I promise
Word Count: 6033
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It began with a smile.
I'm not even sure if you could call what Sierra Six's lips made a smile, considering how small and quick it was. I count it, though. After months of being a bodyguard for my sister and I, months of Claire cracking jokes and me forcing Six to sit through comedy after comedy, he finally smiled.
And he smiled at me.
It was oh so brief, so fleeting, so miniscule. And yet, that one upturn of his lips changed something so fundamental and eternally within me. I was in the kitchen, trying desperately to grab the flour from the top cabinet and stubbornly refusing any and all help Six so stoically offered from his silent post in the corner. When I managed to accidentally tip it over, raining the flour down upon me and sending the bag careening to the floor, I looked up just in time to see Six's lip turn up.
And I could never be the same.
After the smile, more of the ice began to crack. He got more comfortable on movie nights, would even joke back with me with that dry, sarcastic humor of his. Sometimes, if it's been an especially good week, I can get Six to take us out on the town. Our mission had always been just to warm up the unflinching exterior of Sierra Six. Claire and I never meant to rely on his protection, his safety, his surprising warmth.
I never meant to fall in love.
And love makes you do incomprehensible things.
"Six, on average, how much do you sleep? Just give me a ballpark number here," I call out, eying the stoic, gorgeously rugged man over my steaming coffee mug.
Six pauses to think for a minute before adjusting the cuffs on his suit jacket, "3 hours on a good night."
"Excuse me?" I sputter, almost choking on the burning liquid caffeine. I set down my mug, my wide eyes catching on the humor buried in Six's smug features, "You have to know how bad for you that is."
"Sleep is for the weak," Six replies plainly, and even though I know he's joking with me I roll my eyes skyward.
"That's why you have the emotional range of a carrot. I would too if I slept that little!"
I almost miss the smile that ghosts his lips. It takes every ounce of strength I have to smother the roaring of my heart at the sight. Six simply stares ahead, his unchanging demeanor giving little away. After the many months he's been watching over us, though, I've learned to pick up on the subtleties in his behavior. The way his shoulders are relaxed and his jaw isn't set, the way his clear blue eyes seem softened, I'd go as far to call him almost...content.
I hadn't realized how much I would be willing to give to make sure he stayed that way.
I find myself studying him for another moment, and I know that he knows I am. I can't bring myself to look away, though. I know what he's been through, and even if my knowledge is only a fraction of his past, I know that peace and rest have seldom been in the cards for him. Sudden, pressing emotion threatens to choke me at the thought of the agent's life away from here. All of the horrible things he has to do, all of the fighting, all of the sleepless nights and days void of joy.
"Six, can I ask you a personal question?"
There's a beat of silence, and I know he wasn't expecting that from me. Neither was I, if I'm going to be honest.
"Technically you're my boss, so you can ask me anything. Now whether or not I’ll answer..." Six tilts his head, his humored eyes meeting mine as the start of a smirk tugs at his lips. He walks over slowly to the breakfast table I sit at, and I almost begin to fear that the pounding of my heart and searing of my blood in my veins is audible.
"Ask away, Y/N." Six says gently, his gaze down at me with a glint of something that he keeps intricately veiled.
And yet it makes a shiver crawl down my spine.
I almost lose my nerve, what with his eyes burning down into me and the closeness of his presence making my head dizzy with a dangerous tangle of attraction and unspoken feelings. Swallowing thickly, I keep my voice calm as I hold his gaze.
"If you had a say in your life, what would it look like?" I almost whisper.
His jaw clenches slightly, his throat bobbing and his body going tense. A faraway look settles into those breathtaking eyes as Six raises his gaze to the window across from us. He's silent for a while, which is characteristic for Six. He always chooses his words wisely, always stays calm, always remains sure.
This is the most unsure I've seen him, and it makes me wonder if he's ever been asked this.
"I don't know," He finally answers truthfully, making something so fundamental crack in my chest. I can't help but stare at his lifted face with furrowed brows and and pain-filled eyes. "I guess I've never really thought about it."
"You've never thought about what you want?" I ask, my voice no more than a breath to hide the anguish that threatens to out my feelings for my bodyguard.
Six sets his jaw, looking down at me again and stealing the breath from my lungs. His eyes search my face, almost as if he's memorizing every feature. In them is more emotion than I've seen in his gaze before. Finally, his eyes meet mine and I remember how much of a goner I am.
"Not until recently."
I don't dare to imagine what he means, but I can't ignore the stumbling of my heart and the overwhelming urge to stand and close the distance between us. I stay unmoving in my chair though, not daring to barely breathe.
"And what do you want, Six?"
Out of the corner of my eye I see his hands clench tighter together in front of him, almost as if he's...restraining them. From what, I'm not sure. My heart pounds harder in its cage of bones and I feel something shift in the air between us. As my breathing slowly increases and the silence grows thicker, I begin to realize that I can't hold back from him much longer. Six seems ready to answer when the ringing of my phone on the breakfast table interrupts and snaps the moment.
"Sorry," I whisper, finding my breath hard to gather as I look down at the caller ID, "It's work. I have to take this."
I give him a sympathetic gaze, but Six seems to relax slightly at this. He takes a few steps back and nods, giving me another small smile, "Duty calls,"
I smile back, and it takes all of my effort to look away and answer the phone. The call is short and to the point. They're loading me with remote work to finish over the weekend before Monday morning. Once I finally hang up, I let out a long sigh and shove myself to my feet.
"Well, looks like my Saturday just got filled," I announce with a yawn, stretching my arms up before grabbing my coffee mug. I give Six a tired smile as I bring the empty mug to the sink in the kitchen.
"They're working you half to death," Six remarks, turning to watch me as I clean my dishes, "Any more extra hours and I might have to go over there and bloody up my knuckles."
His words shouldn't ignite me as much as they do.
"I’m tempted to tell you to, being technically your boss and all," I respond, and I swear a quiet laugh escapes his laugh. It makes a soft smile grow onto my lips that I don't bother to stop. I finally tear away my gaze and walk towards my room.
"Let me know if you need anything, Six." I call back, meaning every word.
What he says next makes he halt in my step, my brows furrowed in confusion.
"Court."
I look back at him, not even having to ask to convey that I don't know what he means by that one word. Six just stares at me in a way that makes me feel undone.
"That's my real name. Courtland, but everyone used to call me Court."
His name. More than a number, more than a title, more than a job. His name. He told me his name.
What Six...what Court has done to me can never be undone. What he has changed within me can never be fixed. I know it as I just stare at him, a smile growing on my lips. I know it as that name clangs around in my mind.
"If you tell anyone, I'll have to kill you, though." Court jokes, his face still so stoic. With my heart pounding in my chest and my mind spinning out of control, I stand staring at him in awe for another moment.
"I'll take it to my grave," I whisper, my heart racing so quickly that I fear it will fail, "Court."
Saying it is one thing, but to hear his name from someone else, to hear his name from me...Something changes in Court's gaze. Something changes between us, something I can't put my finger on and something that makes me come to two realizations as I walk into my room and shut the door.
One. I love him more than I thought love was capable of.
I press my back up against my bedroom door, letting my head fall back and my eyes slip closed.
Two. There is nothing, absolutely nothing, I wouldn't do to give Courtland every single thing he could ever want.
That second realization is a very dangerous thing to know to be true when the man you'd give everything for is the man in charge of protecting your very life.
|||
Later That Night
I walk out of my bedroom, stretching with a groan. It's nearly two in the morning and I'm just now finishing up with the work that my boss sent over. My tired eyes adjust to the darkness of the house as I make my way over to the kitchen and grab a water from the fridge.
"I guess I'll relax when I retire," I grumble under my breath as I take a swig of water.
I recap the bottle and go to set it on the counter edge, but miss. When the plastic bottle clatters against the ground and I realize that I have to pick it up, I let out another groan. Mumbling under my breath annoyedly, I bend down to pick up the bottle. When I do, I'm not even fully standing before a large, powerful arm is barring my throat and pressing me to the fridge with a massive, warm body. I barely have time to gasp when my wide eyes meet those familiar blue ones and his arm is off of me in the next instant.
"Shit, Y/N are you okay?" Six asks, gently taking my face in his large, rough hands and tilting it so he can examine the untarnished skin of my neck for signs of harm.
I force out a laugh to hide the lowering panic from being attacked and from being so close to Court. Where his skin meets mine burns so intensely that I almost think something is wrong.
"I'm alright," I promise, but he doesn't let go and step back until he has come to the same conclusion, "Unless you count scaring me half to death."
"No one's usually up this late, I thought you were an intruder," Six responds, guilt still coursing through his gaze. I can’t help notice the absence of warmth in my body without his hands on me.
"Well, you're very good at your job but if I were an intruder, why would I stop for some water?" I ask, humor coursing through me. Six shrugs, and I can tell he's scrambling to regain his composure.
"Maybe you got thirsty. Breaking in takes effort"
I laugh softly, which visibly puts Six at ease. He shakes his head slightly, running a hand across his stubble-covered jaw. It's then that I notice he's not wearing professional clothes. Instead, a tight-fitting black t-shirt shows off nearly every muscle in his torso and the sweatpants to go with it make him almost seem...normal. The sight has my mouth dry and my chest tightly constricted.
"I can't believe my eyes," I remark breathlessly, looking up to connect my gaze with his, "You're not wearing a suit."
"They're in the wash," he remarks, making another laugh escape my lips.
"Well, now that you've scared me half to death, I'm definitely not tired anymore."
"Next time, don't go sneaking around the kitchen at midnight," Six advises. I scoff, lifting an eyebrow at him.
"Sneaking around? If that was sneaking around then I lied. You must not be very good at your job," I point out. His ever-so stoic face turns smug in a way that sends my heart careening out of rhythm. He takes a step closer and I have to look up to keep my gaze locked with his. His warmth washes over me and suddenly I can't think straight.
"Honey, I'm not good at my job. I'm fucking incredible at it," Six rumbles, and every coherent part of me turns molten.
The way he looks down at me with that stupid smirk on the lips that I've dreamed about for months, the way his body seems to dwarf mine, the way every molecule of air has been sucked away...it's too much for my fool's heart to resist any longer.
We both go quiet, and I think he realizes the tension thick in the air at the same moment that I do. His eyes dart down to my lips so quickly that I almost think I dreamt it, but I know that I didn't and it sends me past the breaking point.
"Y/N," Court whispers. His voice is a warning, a plea, a promise.
I'm about to close the distance between us when the glint of something catches my eye. I dart my gaze over my bodyguard's shoulder just in time to see a singular man with a handgun standing at the entry of the kitchen.
And the gun's aimed at Six, not me.
My eyes widen, and the moment suddenly slows to a crawl. The man's finger is already squeezing the trigger, and in my head I can see the love of my life catching that bullet and crumpling to the ground. Pure horror seizes my chest and I can't even think before I act.
"NO!" I shout, shoving around Six and managing to get my body between him and the man just in time for a gunshot to ring pure and clear through the air.
Time freezes and every second is a handful of years. The pain is instant, but the bite is dulled by Six bellowing my name. I've never even heard his voice get that loud. It seems almost louder than the second gunshot that explodes nearer to my head, one that comes from Six and hits the lone intruder directly between the eyes.
I press my hands to the burning in my chest, and my shocked brain can't seem to comprehend what the thick, warm liquid that gushes around my fingers is. I see Six move in front of me and slowly look up at him, my head growing lighter by the second. His eyes are wild and frantic, not an ounce of calm in sight.
"Court," I breathe, and it's the only word I can get out before my legs give out. Courtland reacts instantly, lifting me in his arms and already moving for Claire's room.
"Hold on, honey. Hold on," He orders, his voice straining for indifferent but betrayed by its tremble. My blurring vision stays caught on the beautiful man who holds me, and for once his stoic nature is broken. In its stead is a panic that he barely keeps controlled.
"Six? Six what happened?" Claire calls out from somewhere in front of me.
"Claire, I need you to grab the keys and get the car started. We need to get your sister to a hospital, alright?"
I can hear Claire frantically rush out a million questions as she scrambles through the house. My vision begins to fade, voices begins to dull, and I can barely keep my eyes open as I feel myself being carried into the garage. I vaguely hear the roar of an engine and the opening of a car door. In the midst of it all, though, my eyes are on Court.
"Court," I whisper, and through the darkening haze I see the love of my life look down at me, his gaze breaking with something deathly close to tears, "Court I'm tired again"
"No baby," he interrupts, his voice breaking on the words so deeply that he has to clear his throat to keep his tone steady, "I need you to stay awake, alright sweetheart?"
I try to nod as he sets my down in the back seat with Claire and shuts the door. I can hear my sister sobbing and speaking to me as she presses down firmly on my chest, trying desperately to keep my blood from gushing out of my body. Then, Court's in the driver's seat and peeling out of the garage and down the road at an ungodly speed. The squeal of tires and the smell of burning rubber catch in me as my brain scrambles to hold onto anything and everything.
"Why did you do that, Y/N?" Court demands, his voice so angry and terrified and desperate, all at once showing more emotion than I have ever head from him. “Why did you that?"
I know he doesn't mean for me to answer, but in the midst of it all his voice is my lifeline to the living world. As the pain dulls and I feel myself being dragged underneath by the alluring peace of darkness, Sierra Six's voice keeps me tethered to reality a few minutes longer.
He was just supposed to be my bodyguard. He didn’t even want this job when he first started. He was my uncle’s employee and that was it.
And now, I’ve taken a bullet for him. I’d do it again, too. Over and over and over again.
Oh how things have changed.
"I couldn't let you die." My voice is weak and small, but he hears it through all of the commotion. As he tears down the dark road, his eyes meet mine in the review mirror. In them, I see his heart shattering. I see the guilt mounting and I see his very composure hanging by a thread.
"You should have let me."
Those words are the last things I hear before my world fades away into a nothingness so consuming that I almost welcome it.
|||
The next few hours—or days, of which I’m not sure—pass in a drug-induced haze that captures my mind in a knee-deep sludge.
There’s flashes of white coats and bright lights, needles and monitors, cold metal and blinding pain. Through it all, my mind struggles to keep pace and the confusion muddles every thought and leaves them to die on their way across a neuron to fruition. Eventually, the chaos settles into a blissful sleep.
That is, until the lights turn back on in my mind and this time, I can think clearly.
When I finally manage to get my eyes to open to the soft lighting of a hospital room, I remain still on the bed. I can hear voices mulling around me, and subconsciously I find myself searching and yearning for that one specific voice to grace my ears.
But it doesn't.
With a slight frown etched into my brow, I stir slightly on the hospital bed and turn my head to survey the room. The sources of the voices appear as I sweep my gaze to the chairs at my bedside. A small smile etches onto my lips. It's Uncle Fitz and Claire.
"Hey,"
My voice is barely a scratch of a whisper, but it makes my family go silent before me. They both whip their gazes towards me, and instantly whatever conversation the two were having before is long forgotten. Uncle Fitz and Claire hurry to my side, each speaking over the other to try and talk with me. Tears edge my gaze and I chuckle slightly, the motion making my chest ache painfully.
"One at a time," I manage out, smiling at the two. Uncle Fitz grabs ahold of my hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it and clutching it in his grasp as if at any moment I'll fade away.
"You gave us both one hell of a scare, kiddo,"
"Yeah," Claire chirps in, slapping my thigh lightly, "Don't do that again, Y/N"
She's saying something else, but my gaze sweeps through the rest of the room and something in my chest falls when I see only a stranger standing in the corner. No trace of Six. An odd spiraling sensation trickles through my chest. This room isn't complete without him.
"Where's Six?" I mumble, turning to look between a now silent Uncle Fitz and Claire. My uncle takes in a long breath and sits up slightly, keeping my hand in his.
"Y/N, this is Agent Williams. He will be watching over you and Claire from now on"
That trickle in my chest intensifies to a downpour, and suddenly someone is wrenching my heart in their grasp. My breathing quickens, my head spins, my soul trembles.
Where is Six? Where is he? Why isn't he here?
"Did you fire him?" I breathe out, my eyes wide and every emotion displayed plainly across my face.
"Y/N," Fitz sighs, hanging his head so to not look me in the eyes.
"Did you fire him?" I repeat, my heart beating so fast it could burst. Then, Uncle Fitzroy looks me in the eyes once more.
"No, sweetheart. He requested to be moved to another assignment."
And my heart, my very soul, fractures.
He's just so easily left us behind? After everything we've been through, after every day cooped up together, after slowly but surely breaking into my chest and stealing my heart, he's gone.
I don’t think so.
I only groan slightly as I sit up against my uncle’s protests, “Give me his location.”
Fitz freezes, his brows furrowing as he stands unsure beside my hospital bed, “Y/N, I can’t-“
“Give me his location,” I repeat, staring down my uncle, “You know it’s safe with me.”
Fitz holds my gaze for a few more moments, warring with himself over whether or not to give into my demands. I know I’ve won when he lets out a long sigh and pulls out his phone.
“You’re not gonna back down, so I guess I have to,” he wearily says. He fiddles around with his phone before putting it away and pulling out a burner phone from another pocket.
Does he just keep those things on hand?
“Here, I sent the location to this phone,” Uncle Fitz informs, slipping the burner phone into my hand, “But you’re not allowed to go until you’re healed up.”
I nod, grateful to take whatever bargain I can. As the day goes on, it turns into two. And then three. And then a week. And then two weeks. Before I know it, it’s been a month, and I’m still clutching the burner phone to my chest. A few more months and I’ll be able to hunt Six down. I’ll find him.
I have to.
|||
A few months later.
The cold wind whips against my cheeks angrily, making my skin nearly burn with the frost it holds. The buildings smattered around do little to break the icy temperatures, and neither does the throngs of people mulling around quietly with their thick coats tugged close. My eyes follow the buildings closely as I walk, and it isn’t long before I come to a pause and pull out the small burner phone Uncle Fitz gave me months ago in the hospital.
I check and then double check. This is it. This is the building.
Anxiety I hadn’t expected blossoms in the bottom of my gut as I stand before the apartment complex. A million doubts rush through my head, but I banish them with the reminder that, if nothing else, I am here to see Court one last time.
Even if that last time is me punching him across the face.
I shove past the crowd and hastily cross the street, getting lucky enough to slip in through the main entrance behind another tenant as they go in. The blast of stifled heat in the dingy, close to trashy, apartment lobby is enough to make me choke, but it’s welcome compared to the icebox of outside. I go unnoticed as I make my way to the stairwell beside the elevators that don’t seem all that trustworthy.
Fourth floor. Room 416. It should be the last one on the right.
I take each step slower than the last, my grit fizzling out the closer I get to the fourth floor. The stairwell is silent, leaving my brain plenty of room to run over and over and over again what could happen. Once again, I silence the thoughts by reminding myself of what spurred me to come here in the first place.
He left. Six left and I don’t think I can keep living like this without him.
What if he doesn’t want to stay with me? What if I mean as little to him as the next target? What if, what if, what if?
I don’t even pause to catch my breath when I reach the massive door marked with the Russian word for four. I shove through it and begin to blaze my way down the cramped hallway. My heart is racing but I don’t dare stop, don’t dare look back. I’ve come this far, I can’t turn around now.
I do pause, though, when I reach the last door on the right. Room 416.
“416,” I breathe, my heart slamming in my chest loud enough to reverberate through my being.
Then I raise my fist, and knock.
And knock.
And then knock again.
By the third round of knocking, it hits me that he’s probably not home. For some reason, that comforts me. I tug in a breath of stifled air and then pull out the pickpocketing kit I’d purchased weeks ago in case of this very scenario. With trembling fingers, I stoop down and begin to fiddle with the lock just as I’d practiced. It’s only a few minutes before I’m met with a surprising click.
It’s open.
I stash the kit and hold my breath as I take the cold doorknob in my grasp. Then, with a heart of both lead and hope, I turn it and enter his apartment. The moment I’m inside and the door is shut behind me, I know that I’ve reached the right place. The overwhelming smell of pine and snow and a hint of gum circulates, and that’s one smell I don’t think I’ll ever soon forget.
Casting my gaze around the darkened apartment, I notice it’s as I suspected. I can’t see anyone in here. I traipse my way into the main area of the small but quaint apartment. There’s a kitchen to my left, a small living room to my right, and a short hallway leading to a door that I presume is his bedroom before me.
I haven’t taken more than two steps towards the door when a pair of large, rough hands grasp my shoulders and shove me backwards until I’m colliding with the wall beside the kitchen. A massive, muscular arm comes up to bar my throat, and once my shock has subsided, I come to realize what’s happening. The familiarity of this is too strong.
Because it’s him. It’s Courtland.
He must be just as surprised to see me, because the moment recognition flares through those gorgeous, deadly eyes, his stubble-covered jaw slackens and so does his hold on my neck. He keeps me there against the wall, seeming to be frozen and uncomprehending of what stands before him. With his skin on mine and his face so close, I almost buckle to the floor as something I’ve been missing these last few months crashes into me. Something only Court makes me feel.
“This position seems familiar,” I finally whisper, breaking the thick, tense silence.
“Y/N” Six mumbles, the very sound of my name coming from his lips making me shiver.
He shoves away from me instantly, taking steps back to put space between us. Six runs a hand over his jaw as his gaze sweeps over me, slowly and scrutinizingly in the way he was trained. Only his gaze doesn’t make me feel like a target, it makes me feel…undone. I see his eyes stick on my upper torso. The exact spot that bullet slammed into me all those months ago. A certain pain flashes through his gaze before, in an instant, his unfeeling and unyielding demeanor returns.
Only this time there’s a difference. I can visibly see the strain it takes to hide whatever emotions are running through him.
“I’m okay,” I manage out, shattering the silence between us. I mentally scold myself for the stupid and fumbling excuse for a first greeting, but I press on nonetheless.
Court nods, his face blank as his eyes pierce into mine, “What are you doing here?”
His words send a dagger of hurt slicing through my heart, but I try to ignore it. Instead, I gather my nerve and say what I came here to stay.
“You weren’t there when I woke up”
I intended the words to be bold, convicting, confident. It surprises even me when they instead come out nearly laying bare every inch of affliction burdening me. My words are quiet, but they hit Six so hard I see him flinch the slightest bit.
“I’m just glad you woke up,” Six averts, but his words ring with truth. I feel tears I knew would come but desperately hoped wouldn’t begin to prick behind my eyes.
“Why did you leave?” I ask directly. I’m done beating around the bush.
“Y/N, it’s not as simple as-”
“Why did you leave?” I repeat, my words stronger and trembling only slightly at the end. Six sighs, clenching his jaw before he manages a response.
“I had a job, I failed at that job. When that happens, that usually means you don’t have that job anymore.” He sounds almost automated, as if he’d memorized those words.
“That sounds pretty simple to me,” I shoot back, anger I hadn’t anticipated beginning to burn in my gut, “But I’m calling bullshit.”
There’s a moment of silence and I can tell from the shift in his gaze that he’s going to tell me the truth.
I just hope I’m prepared for what it means.
“It is-,” he stops abruptly, barely reacting except for the tightening of his jaw and the clenching of his fists before him as he tries again, “Was my job to protect you. I couldn’t do that when you were willing to put yourself in danger around me.”
“You left me because I made you incapable of doing your job correctly?” I exclaim, my tone incredulous.
“It’s not about the damn job!” Six suddenly outbursts, and I go silent immediately. I’ve only ever heard him raise his voice now twice.
And the first was when he saw blood pouring from my chest.
“Protecting you,” Six continues, his normal volume returned but his voice strained, “It goes beyond the job.”
I don’t seem to have a response for that one. I don’t need to find one either, because Six can’t stop himself from taking a step closer to me.
“You once asked me what I wanted,” He murmurs, and even though we’re a few feet apart the air is electric. “Well, what I want can’t be near me if all she’ll do is put herself between me and a bullet.”
I’m fairly certain that my brain short-circuits, because his words won’t process.
What he wants.
What he wants.
Me? He wants me?
“You mean you-”
But just as quickly as his emotion has exploded, it’s gone. Court’s face hardens and he turns around, walking off back to where he was before I broke in.
“Your new bodyguard is good. He’ll take care of you.”
"Wait, Six. I-"
"I've got a job to take care of here, so I probably won't see you or Claire again. Keep her safe for me." His voice is so monotone, so careless, so...so strained to make it that way. I watch in utter shock as he mills around his apartment, grabbing a phone and a gun as he clearly prepares to leave.
"Six, don't shut down like this. We need to talk about what you just said." I insist. He acts as though I haven't spoken at all.
"If you'll excuse me," Six says curtly, pulling a suit jacket on and brushing past me and towards the door to his apartment. A certain panic grips my chest so tightly that my legs nearly give out.
He can't leave me, not again. I can't lose him. I can't.
"Six, wait!" I exclaim, trailing him towards the door. He doesn't turn around, "Please, just talk to me."
Six makes it to the apartment door and swings it open. As he does, despair that threatens to suffocate me invades my chest. I'm slowly beginning to realize that this is it. He's going to walk out that door and everything that has happened in the time I've known him, everything he's become to me, will be over.
"Court, please. Don't leave me,"
Six freezes in his step, the door still in his grasp and his frame halfway through the opening. My heart slams into my throat, hope making it pick up its pace as he stands with his back to me, his body clearly heaving with breath.
"If you meant what you just said," I falter slightly, only slightly, before I throw all caution to the wind, "Then you have to know that I want you too, you have to know that. Shit, Court I more than want you. I-"
My words die as Six is suddenly moving, storming back into the apartment and slamming the door behind him. I stare with wide eyes as he suddenly approaches me, and the next thing I know his hands are cupping my face and his face is so close to mine that all thoughts leave me. His eyes search mine as he pauses, no emotions held back this time.
"This isn't safe for you," Court rasps. I can hardly focus as his eyes drop to my lips with a desire so strong in them that a shiver runs down my spine.
"I'm safest with you," I assure. Court shakes his head slightly, his thumb running across my cheek.
"You just had to go and say my name," He murmurs.
Then Court connects his lips to mine, and for the first time in my life I know what it is to live.
His lips move in perfect harmony with mine, his warmth overwhelming me and overheating me. His large, calloused hands on me are everything and not enough all at once and when one slips into my hair and tugs me closer, I know.
He is danger, he is the dark, he is everything I was warned about as a child. And he's the love of my life.
"No more jumping in front of bullets for me," Court orders once he pulls back. My lips twitch up slightly.
hiii! first i wanna start by saying i absolutely adore your work!
could i possible request an eddie munson one shot? where the reader recently moved to the school, and she ends up being outcast right away (for some reason) but eddie, being the angel that he is, takes her under his wing, and eventually notices a notebook she's always scribbling in, on the front is a 20-sided dice (you can take where the story goes i jjst love this idea 🥺)
What Makes a Hero | Eddie Munson
eddie munson x fem!reader ✧ one shot request
A/N: Thanks so much for reaching out!! Sorry it took so long, classes started up again and therefore so did my stress lol. On the other hand, that did make writing this even better. Hope you love it!! Feel free to keep on asking from me, I love seeing them! And as always, don’t forget to dream 🤍
Warnings: bullying, some angst, a fool in love, slight mention of blood, fluff
Word Count: 5,246
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Who decides who becomes popular and who becomes an outcast?
Is it something in our genes that we just can’t change, or something in the way we pursue our passions? Do the other students just get together the night before high school begins and make a definitive list of who will be popular and who won’t?
Well, screw whoever made that list because they certainly didn’t talk to me about it. It’s because of that list that I’m now speed walking to my first class in a brand new school in a brand new town with my head down. Maybe this time will be different. Maybe, by some miracle, I’ll be left alone here. I’d rather be alone than treated the way I have been in almost every school I’ve been to. It’s my senior year and all I want to do is just graduate.
“And what do we have here?”
My heart sinks, slamming straight into the floor. No, that voice can’t be talking about me. It can’t be, not this soon. I keep walking, hoping whoever that was ignores me. Or, better yet, doesn’t even bother to notice I exist.
“Hey, where are you going new kid? I’m talking to you,” that condescending male voice calls out right before a hand closes around my shoulder and whirls me around.
Basketball players. My heart sinks to the floor.
“That’s a new record,” I mumble to myself, noting how quickly I was outcasted. And for what? What about me screams reject? I clutch my sketchbook closer to my chest, trying to prepare myself for what’s to come.
“What’s your name, new kid? I’m Jason,” the boy introduces, and I keep trying to convince myself that maybe he won’t do what’s happened at my last two high schools, “Just thought I’d scope out the new senior.”
He notes my silence, the grunge outfit set on my figure, and the sketchbook held to my chest before snorting in laughter, “And it looks like we have a potential freak squad member on our hands.”
I roll my eyes, clenching my jaw and moving to walk away. Jason clicks his tongue and grabs my shoulder again, pulling me back to him. His teammates are standing smugly behind him, just watching this happen. As for everyone else in the hallway, they’re pretending as if none of this is happening.
Some things never change.
“Don’t leave yet, I still haven’t gotten your name,” Jason informs, his voice sickly smug and sweet. With acid burning my tongue and anger roiling in my gut, I restrain every urge I have to reach out and deck this guy. It would just be worse for me.
In the end, the predators at the top of the chain in high school will always stay just that—predators. They’ll always keep us as their prey, no matter what we do. Alone, prey don’t have enough power to upset the food chain.
And that’s what I’ve always been and most likely always will be if trends continue. Alone.
“Y/N,” I grit out, just wanting this to be over. Jason hums, scanning my face and figure before a slight disappointment tints his gaze.
“What a shame you’re one of those freaks like Munson,” Jason sighs, using a name of someone I haven’t met yet as he traces a finger down my cheek. Every part of me bucks in rebellion, but I clamp down hard on my urges to fight back. “You’re not too awful to look at.”
I shove away his hand, leveling my best disinterested glare at him, “Too bad I can’t say the same for you.”
The second the words leave my mouth, I internally berate myself. My control over my tongue slipped and now, as I hurry away from the basketball team, I can only pray that it doesn’t come back to bite me in the ass.
“Your life is going to be a living hell, Y/N!” Jason calls out to me, making my stomach drop and tears that I despise begin to burn in my eyes, “And I’m going to be your devil.”
I shove my way into a nearby bathroom, my heart pounding and my pulse fluttering painfully. I stumble over to the sink and drop my sketchbook and backpack onto the ground. As I grip onto the sink, I try to breathe to get my chest to heave less. I look up at my reflection in the mirror and curse myself for the tears that slip down my cheeks. I wipe at them furiously, and it takes every ounce of my strength not to scream.
Things got so bad at my last school that my mother moved us halfway across the country to quiet and quaint Hawkins, Indiana. And yet, even here, my demons follow me.
Will I ever be able to live one single day of peace? That’s all I want—just one day to be free from the chains of other people’s judgements. What I would give to-
“Well, this doesn’t seem to be going your way does it?”
I yelp in surprise at the distinctly male voice sounding behind me and whirl around, my eyes wide and my adrenaline pumping. I swing without looking only for the guy to dodge my hit.
“Woah! Easy there, killer. I’m just-”
His long, dark hair and tattooed skin is a clue to who the man is, but I’m not lingering on his surprising attractiveness. Instead, I’m focusing on the fact that this man is in the girl’s restroom.
I swing again, and finally the strange guy catches my wrist in his surprisingly gentle grasp. My eyes dart to his ringed-fingers softly holding my wrist and it’s hard to ignore the radiating warmth from where he holds me.
“Will you stop swinging at me? Don’t want to mess up this gem of a face, now do you?” The guy taunts, raising his eyebrows at me. His voice is mellow and his entire persona, from the chains to the tattoos and rings, screams I don’t care.
Against my body’s natural reaction, I pull my arm back. I eye him warily, waiting for the unease to set in my gut. And yet, it never does.
Instead, I find…comfort.
“What are you doing in here?” I finally manage out. The metalhead before me shrugs, twisting one of his rings and stepping back from me.
“You seemed pretty shaken up so I followed you in here.”
“Because that’s not creepy.”
An amused smirk tugs at his lips that strikes through the center of my being. Suddenly, I find myself falling into that smug little smile.
Suddenly, I feel my world shifting at the sight of it.
“Listen new kid, just thought you could use a friend.” The stranger backs up, adjusting the sleeves on his ‘Hellfire Club’ t-shirt, “Now I-“
His words cut off suddenly, making my brows furrow. The sudden loss of his voice makes me…I don’t want to dwell on what it makes me.
“What?” I question, confused by his sudden change in mood. Instead of those dark eyes lounging carelessly on me, they’re stuck on something on the floor, “What-”
The guy shushes me, sticking a hand up in my direction as he stoops to the floor. I huff out a sigh, not entirely sure if I should be offended, nervous, or humored. Somehow, I find myself being a mix of all three. I guess most of all I’m shocked that, for the first time since the eighth grade, someone at school has had a somewhat normal conversation with me for more than two minutes.
But is this really considered normal?
“Okay,” I mumble beneath my breath, but when the metalhead stands up and turns to me with something in his hands, I freeze.
That’s my sketchbook.
Sudden desperation clangs through me so strongly that I shove off of the sink and reach for it, but he pulls it out of my reach. Very swiftly I can feel my pulse quickening and the anticipation of what has happened too many times before happen again. I stand almost helplessly, not knowing how I can defend myself as I wait for the ridicule or the cruel comments.
But they never come.
Instead, the unsettlingly attractive guy looks up at me finally. Something in his gaze has changed, and those dark eyes sparkle with something akin to excitement, “Why did you draw this?”
I look towards what he gestures, seeing the 20-sided dice on the cover of the notebook. My stomach drops slightly, but I can’t help but notice the way he doesn’t look at me the way everyone always has—with contempt and disgust and ridicule. Instead, he looks at me like…almost like he’s seeing me. Actually seeing me.
To be seen for the first time…
Something irrevocably stirs in my chest and instantly I know there’s no going back.
“Why did you draw this, sweetheart?” His voice ricochets through me, and when he takes a few steps towards me I take a few steps back. Finally, when my body brushes into the sink again, I realize he has me cornered.
“It’s just a nerd thing, it’s nothing.” I try to move away, but his body is so near to mine and blocking the exit that there’s no chance. An amused, hopeful glint overtakes the brown in his eyes and he takes a few steps back. The guy whose name I still haven’t learned shoves a finger in my direction, still holding my sketchbook in one hand.
“You play DnD,” he says almost triumphantly. I stand rooted to my spot in shock, so shocked that I don’t object when he opens the book and starts flipping through the pages filled with campaign ideas and sketches.
“I’m sorry,” I start, my voice unbelieving as my brain struggles to compute what’s happening, “This isn’t…you’re not going to make fun of me?”
The guy lets out a loud, ringing laugh before closing the sketchbook and skipping, actually skipping, over to me. He bends at the waist into a bow of sorts, holding out my book for me to take. An amused smile starts to tug at my lips at his theatrics and I take the sketchbook back. When he stands, his long, brown curls ruffle messily around his smiling face. Something about the scene makes me feel at peace for the first time in I don’t know how long.
“Make fun of you? Sweetheart, you’ve just stumbled upon the strings of fate.” His eccentric behavior makes me smile again, and I watch his eyes dart down to my lips once I do, “The name’s Eddie Munson, and allow me to be the first to welcome you.”
Suddenly, it clicks. Munson. Eddie Munson. He’s the ‘freak’ that Jason mentioned earlier. Considering that Jason’s already lumping me in with Eddie and whatever he’s involved in, a part of me begins to wonder if I’m going to have a friend here.
The prospect sends a thrill through my chest, one that I don’t think is entirely separate from my friend being Eddie.
By now I’ve figured out that he probably plays Dungeons and Dragons as well, considering how excited he got when looking through my sketchbook. It seems at every twist in the conservation, though, he’s got me waiting in anticipation without knowledge of what he’s going to say next.
“I’m Y/N,” I respond hesitantly, eying him in confusion even if it’s only to hide the part of me that falls into his gaze more and more, “And you’re welcoming me to…the school?”
Eddie just smiles again, walking forward and grabbing ahold of my free hand. I bite my tongue to keep from gasping at the electricity that the contact sends crackling along my skin. The burning warmth of his hands tangos with the cool, smooth texture of his rings and serves to swirl my mind and muddle my senses until all I can focus on is his skin on mine.
“To the Hellfire Club,” he whispers, before stooping down and pressing a kiss to the back of my hand.
And I swear I begin to fall in love with Eddie Munson the moment his lips brush my skin.
|||
A few months later
Eddie Munson has saved my life, and I don’t even think he knows it. I don’t even think he tried.
For years I struggled with who I was, grappled with the perception of others that was in such stark contrast with who I yearned to be. I knew that teenagers would always ostracize me for being the epitome of the “unpopular” crowd. Then I miraculously stumble upon Hawkins, Indiana, and a metalhead with a soft heart of gold changes my life.
Throughout the last few months, Eddie’s quickly become my best friend along with the rest of the Hellfire club. The closer I’ve gotten to him, the more that he’s shown me that it really doesn’t matter who the hell everyone else wants me to be or the opinions they have on what I am passionate about. I’m still not perfect and I still often let other people say what they want to me, but something has shifted in me. No longer do I yearn to conform. No longer do I crave validation from the popular crowd.
No longer do I burn to be someone, anyone, else.
Eddie Munson has saved my life. In the same way he’s ruined it, because after knowing him I can never be the same. I can never have my heart back, because his ringed and safe hands will always hold it.
“Dustin, here’s your muffin. Mike, here’s your extra lunch money just in case you get hungry.” I divvy out the goods, making sure each of my friends has everything they need. I step back, my lip taken between my teeth as I think, “Did I get everyone? Does anyone need anything?”
“I need you to take the sunshine down a few notches, sweetheart. You’re gonna convince me that the world is a better place.”
It takes me a few moments to stow away the intense giddiness and instant flirtation that wants to break through at the voice wafting over. Instead, I lift an eyebrow and turn around.
“I don’t know about the world but our world is going to be great if I have any say in it,” I respond, cursing my heart for how it leaps at the gentle and true smile that touches Eddie’s lips for a moment.
“Thanks, Y/N! You’re the best!” Dustin calls out from behind me. Mike reciprocates a similar sentiment before the two walk off for class. I watch them go, a soft smile on my face.
I’ve never really had friends to care for before, so these last few months have awoken something within me. I know what it’s like to be ignored and neglected, and now that a certain Dungeons Master has flipped the trajectory of my life, I never want to let another person feel that way. Whether that’s bringing Max new tunes to try or bringing food to everyone whenever they need it, I just can’t help myself anymore.
“I’ve created a monster,” Eddie jokes, making me shove him playfully.
As usual, he dramatizes the hit and stumbles back, slamming into the lockers with a groan. I can’t help my giggle as he slides down them, clutching the shoulder that I nudged.
“Oh get up, drama queen.” I walk over, grabbing his arm and helping pull him back to his feet.
He pops up as if nothing happened, a cool smirk on his face, “You wouldn’t be as violent if you acted less like our mother, you know.”
I smile at his taunt, knowing he’s joking about my violence but his claim on mothering is well-founded.
“Oh come on, Munson. You’d all fall apart without me.”
There’s a pause, and what he says next is so quietly said that I almost miss it.
“More than you know.”
I have to pretend like I didn’t hear the words since they were clearly not intended for me to, but they slam into me more than I can express. Suddenly, all the joking is gone and once again I’m a fool in love with a guy three feet away. One day I’ll find the courage to tell him, but not now. Not today. Instead, I swallow my sudden feelings and fish out the sketchbook that bonded us together all those months ago.
“That reminds me,” I announce, flipping through the book as Eddie and I meander the hallway and the thinning crowd. We’re on our way to class, but whether or not we’ll make it there is another story, “I have something for you.”
Eddie runs a hand through his long curls, glancing over at me as I rifle through my notebook. Finally, I find the page I’m looking for and carefully rip it out. With a smile, I turn and hand it over to Eddie. His fingers brush mine as he takes the drawing, sending electricity sparking through me. As he grips the paper, nerves bubble up into my gut and inundate my chest.
I’ve given him many little drawings here and there, but this one I’ve been working on since that day in the girl’s bathroom. It’s not a true confession of my feelings, but it’s about as close as I think I’ll ever get.
“And what has the great Y/L/N drawn today?” Eddie announces, opening the paper before him. Once he looks over it, his steps come to a halt and the smug smile on his face drops. I stop beside him in the almost empty hallway, my anxiety pushing me to fiddle with the hem of my shirt as I watch him with nervous eyes.
“Did I render Eddie Munson speechless? It’s a miracle,” I taunt, trying to keep the tremble from my tone that would so clearly betray my nerves. Eddie just stares and stares and stares at the picture, a thick, charged silence settling between us. Finally, his jaw clenches and he lifts his eyes to me.
I’m undone in his gaze
The burning intensity, the raw emotion, the unusual seriousness. It sets every part of me alive.
“Y/N…”
The way my names sounds from his tongue makes a shiver run down my spine.
“I know it’s a little more intense than my other pieces, but I’ve been working on it for a while and-”
He cuts me off, shaking his head and taking a step closer to me, “Sweetheart I can’t take this. This isn’t…it’s not me.”
A rare flash of hurt sears through my chest, the kind of hurt I’m not used to. The kind of hurt that comes from someone you love.
“I-I don’t know what you mean,” I mumble, my eyes wide. Eddie grits his teeth and shoves the picture at me. I drop my gaze to it, my heart constricting at the sight.
It’s him, a full-body portrait about as detailed as I can get, and he’s wielding a sword and shield. In the drawing, he’s fending off some sort of monster, but the focus is clearly on him. With the way the light breaks over his form and the fearlessness I etched onto his features, my feelings for him are about as obvious as I can make them without saying it aloud.
“I’m not the hero, not like you drew it here. That’s not me.” He grits out, his tone’s more serious than it’s been in a while. It makes my heart sink straight to the floor, and all at once I remember exactly why life was easier when I had no one to care about.
It also meant I had no one to hurt me.
“Eddie, you are a hero. You’re the only one who doesn’t see it,” I rebut, but he just shakes his head and shoves the drawing into my hands. I stumble back slightly, the sheer cracking of my heart manifesting into physical pain.
“Then everyone else needs to check their glasses.”
And then he walks away. He just…walks away, as if I’m not standing here with a drawing I’ve been working on for months just for him. As if the meaning of it has gone over his head.
As if walking away from me is as easy as it has been for everyone else.
|||
A few days later.
The next few days passed in a slow, dreary haze.
Eddie was avoidant of me, our Hellfire campaign last night was canceled, and I was reminded of what it felt like to live without the safety net of Eddie Munson. I guess it’s my own fault, anyways. I’m the one who let me heart believe that life could be anything but what it has been up until now. I should have stomped down the dichotomous poison of love long ago.
As I walk alone through Hawkins High, the hallways brimming with students as the day comes to a close, my heart stays in it’s broken coma. Everything is in a haze.
Until I see Dustin cornered by Jason.
“Is it a requirement to be as ugly as you to join your freak show, or just a plus?” Jason taunts, his friends laughing and jeering at the kid who desperately keeps his gaze down. I can tell he’s trying to look small, quiet, invisible. All at once, the haze clears.
And I snap.
“You’d think with all of that-”
I storm over, dropping my bag and sketchbook down as I go, “Hey douchebag!”
Jason and his friends glance over in time to see me crash my fist so hard into Jason’s perfect nose that blood sprays out.
“What the HELL?” Jason shouts, clutching his nose and stumbling back with a cry of pain. The quickly forming crowd gasps, and I whirl around to an impressed Dustin.
“Damn, Y/L/N,” he mumbles, his eyes wide.
“I’ve got your back, Henderson,” I assure, giving him a half-smile, “Get out of here, I can handle this prick.”
“But-” Dustin’s quickly cut off by a hand closing around my shoulder and whipping me around. Before I know what’s happening, I’m slammed into the lockers.
“You little bitch!” Jason seethes, blood running down from his nose and messing up his pristine varsity jacket.
“Hey asshole! Get your hands off of her!” Dustin exclaims, but the one step he takes near me makes Jason’s basketball buddies step towards him.
Panic at my friend being beat up by a group of senior athletes bolts through me, and I shoot as calm a look at Dustin as I can. Jason’s hands still grip painfully into my shoulders, and the metal of the lockers bites into my skin.
“Dustin, go.” I urge, knowing I can handle this. I’ve done it my whole life, and he shouldn’t have to.
Dustin falters, seeing the menacing athletes just seconds away from pummeling him. He darts his gaze back to me and waits only one more seconds before turning and running away. Relief crashes through me and I turn my head towards the furious Jason.
“Now, where were we?” I ask, making Jason rip me back and slam me into the lockers again. I only grunt slightly at the pain.
He must realize the growing crowd and his reputation at stake, so he lets me go quickly and steps back. The popular basketball player runs a hand covered in blood through his perfect hair, a hateful laugh breaking past his lips.
“You just can’t stop, can you Y/N?” Jason sneers, his face growing calmly cruel, “Such a waste of a face like yours. I mean, you could be friends with anybody instead of those Hellfire geeks.”
“You’re just mad I messed up your pretty face, Jason,” I call back, my pulse racing with adrenaline.
I’ve never really fought back before, never had the guts to. It feels glorious.
“What is this going to fix, huh? You and your friends will always be rejects.” Jason spits. I lift my chin, leveling my now deadly-serious glare to him.
“Whenever you look at your crooked nose, I want you to remember this,” I announce, daring to even take a step nearer to him, “Remember that you can ridicule me all you want. You can mock me and hate me and torture me, I can take it. But what you will not do is so much as speak to any of my friends again.”
Jason laughs ruefully, a dangerous look on his face, “Easy enough.”
He stoops down to the ground where my stuff sits and picks up my sketchbook. I feel my pulse spike and emotion clamp around my chest like a hand to my throat, but I shove it down. I can take it. I can take it.
“Let’s see what we’ve got here,” Jason begins, flipping through the book before laughing and presenting a drawing for the crowd to see. On cue, the cruel high-schoolers laugh and jeer at the drawing of my friend group here at Hawkins.
“The freak show and their devil game come to life. The circus must be in town.”
The crowd laughs again, and my chest squeezes painfully.
I can take it. I can take it. I can take it.
“And what is this? Did you draw Munson?” Jason finds the drawing I did of Eddie, the one he so vehemently gave back to me. Old wounds rip wide open and I grit my jaw to keep the tears from even reaching my eyes.
“Oh this is too perfect. The freak king and queen,” He ridicules, getting close enough that I can see where the break in his nose is, “Does lover boy not love you back? Not surprising.”
I can take it. I can take it.
“I mean, who would want you? A disgusting, loud-mouthed-”
“Personal space, much? You’re gonna get your blood all over the lovely lady.”
I know it shouldn’t, and I curse it for doing so, but my heart soars at the voice that interrupts Jason.
I look over to see Eddie at my side and shoving Jason away from me, a panting Dustin standing nearby. His words are teasing, but his body language leaks barely-bridled rage.
“Munson.” Jason greets, clenching his jaw. Eddie hums, tilting his head at the basketball player.
“She really messed up your nose, man. Is daddy going to pay for a new one?” Eddie taunts.
“At least I have a dad,” Jason retorts.
Anger floods me and I step forward, about to rip into Jason. Eddie stops me with a gentle yet firm grip on my arm. His large hand holds me steady, making me look over at him with furrowed brows. I nearly melt when he sends a wink my way and tugs me behind him. That one look communicated enough, though.
You’ve got Dustin, I’ve got you.
I’m a fool in love all over again as Eddie releases me and steps up to Jason.
“You know, all you normals are the same,” Eddie sighs, walking up to Jason with his hands clenched by his sides and a mocking smile on his face, “Scared of a break in the cycle.”
“Whatever, man,” Jason grunts, sprinting suddenly at Eddie. I almost gasp in shock when Eddie sidesteps suddenly, shoving Jason’s back and letting him slam into the lockers so hard they tremble. I shoot my hand to my mouth to hide the surprised laugh that breaks out.
“Oops, I thought you saw those.” Eddie apologizes, settling his hands innocently in his pockets. His eyebrows shoot up when Jason whirls around and charges again, “Oh, and he’s coming back for more.”
Eddie shoots his foot out, tripping up Jason spectacularly and making him stumble into the wall. All at once, Eddie’s joking and sarcastic demeanor drops and anger like I’ve never seen it coats his features. He steps up to Jason, his jaw clenched and his eyes serious.
“Mess with her again. I dare you.” Eddie whispers lethally, the tone so different from how he usually is.
His words, though…
It’s all I can do to just stare at him as he continues taking to Jason. Eventually, Jason shoves away and storms off, bloody and defeated. Eddie receives a few impressed nods and turns back towards me. I’m just staring at him. I can’t help it, not when he’s so utterly beautiful, inside and out. Every part of him.
“You okay, sweetheart?” He asks, walking up and putting his hands on my arms. The warmth sears through my shirt and it takes a measurable amount of strength to snap from my daze, “Dustin came sprinting up and said something about you and a fight and a broken nose. I didn’t fully understand him but I came running.”
“I had that, you know,” I remark, lifting an eyebrow at him and ignoring the warmth in my chest. Eddie smiles, stepping back.
“Oh really? Was that before or after the public ridicule?”
I laugh, shaking my head and stopping down to grab my notebook. As I stand, I catch how the page it’s open to is the drawing of Eddie from before. With a fresh measure of nerves, I look up at the metalhead and turn the drawing so he can see it.
“You proved me right, you know.”
Eddie walks up next to me, shaking his head at me and leaning his back against the lockers, “I’m not the hero.”
“You’re my hero.”
The words are out before I can stop them, and I’m not so sure I want to. He looks over at me, his eyebrows drawn together. I just smile.
“From the moment we met Munson, you’ve been my hero—giving me a place to belong, people to care about. You can deny it all you want but it’s who you are. A hero.”
“Y/N-”
“And I know you won’t believe me no matter how much I explain it to you but I’ll spend as long as it takes if it means-”
“Y/N” Eddie tries again, but I just keep talking, my gaze forward.
“-and the way you look out for everyone, just always being so-”
“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Eddie sighs almost in annoyance before I hear him move. I look over just in time to watch him grab my jaw, press me against the lockers, and crash his lips to mine.
My gasp is absorbed into the kiss, and the cool metal of his rings is in stark contrast to the burning of my skin as his lips work against mine. Every part of is alive and humming and melting and dying all at once. His large hands are on my face and in my hair, holding me close and kissing me with utter control. When he finally slows and pulls away, leaving me utterly shell-shocked, that heart-stopping smile of his spreads onto his lips.
“Thanks for the picture,” he whispers, grabbing the drawing from my hand and kissing my nose before turning and walking down the hallway.
My cheeks are flustered and I can’t help but smile, “Is that all? No explanation?”
“Nope!” He calls back, skipping a little as he goes, “Gotta leave you wanting more, baby”
I laugh, dropping my head into my hands to hide the smile that stretches so wide it hurts my cheeks. My heart is faltering and skipping and stumbling in my chest and in my soul I know. I know that he took more than just that drawing as he left down the hallway. With it, he took a piece of me.
Now, I’ll forever and irrevocably be tied to Eddie Munson.
And, for the first time in my life, I belong. I belong wherever he is.
Summary: You're the secretary to one of the most powerful mob bosses in the country, and that's what he was supposed to stay—your boss. The heart often has other plans. Now, you're in a race against time to save the life of James Barnes, the mob boss who has become so much more.
A/N: Longer one today, just as angsty as I'm used to. I write better with the more angst I do and you can't tell me any different. As always, let me know if you have any requests or comments because I love you all! Keep those dreams alive 🤍
Warnings: mob!bucky, vioence, angst, fluff throughout (because I'm really trying here), secretary!reader, mentions of past abuse in relationship, protective bucky
Word Count: 13,122
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I have to make it. I have to.
"Come on, come on, come on," I breathe out, drumming my nails nervously against my steering wheel and peering around the car in front of me.
He's not answering his phone. I have to make it in time.
I take my lip between my teeth, the anxiety in my chest only rising as each second ticks by. Finally I swear under my breath and swerve around the car before me, slamming the gas pedal to the floor. A chorus of honks rises around me but I don't care. All I know is that he's going to die.
My boss is going to die if I don't make it.
You may be wondering to yourself, how did a meagerly-paid secretary end up breaking traffic laws and nearly crashing her boss's brand new Tesla just to get to him in time? Why would I even bother? Why would his life be in danger in the first place?
Well, to understand that, I'm going to have to take you back to where my life of crime began.
If my mother ever heard I had a life of crime, she'd kill me herself, so let's keep this one between us.
|||
2 Years Prior
"I'm sorry sir, but you don't have an appointment and Mr. Barnes is full for today," I repeat, quickly losing my ever-bearing patience with the brash business man before me.
His eyes dart around my desk and to the office of my boss, CEO James Barnes. I've only worked here for a few months and yet being his personal secretary is proving more difficult than I imagined.
"Look sweetheart, just let me through and I won't take but a few minutes of his time," the man pushes, not even sparing me a glance as he walks around my desk. I shoot to my feet and step in his way, not hearing the office door open behind me.
"You can either see yourself out, or I can have someone help you. Either way, sir, you're not seeing Mr. Barnes today." I assert, my heart pounding and blood boiling in indignation.
If there's one thing I've learned in my time working in Corporate America, it's that most rich and powerful men think they're so far above the rest of the world that they're entitled to open doors wherever they go. Thankfully, my boss is one of the better ones.
Definitely better than this tool in front of me. I almost scoff in disbelief when the man goes to step around me again.
"You don't scare me, sweetheart. I'm just gonna-"
I step directly in front of his path, my eyes flashing with anger.
"Either you leave right now, or I'll personally make sure you'll never get a time slot with my boss. And it's Ms. Y/L/N, not sweetheart" I grit out, standing my ground and leveling my glare at the man.
"Who do you think you-"
I feel the warmth of his presence before he even says a word.
"Do you feel a need for career-suicide, or are you just incompetent?" A dark, rough voice sounds behind me, cutting off the business man.
As my boss steps beside me, the heat of his presence washes over me and I don't even need to look over to know that his menacing face is on display. I can see it's impact in the business man's sudden desire to leave.
"Uh, I-I am so sorry sir. I'll be on my way."
As he scurries to the elevator, I feel my cheeks heat as I look over at James. His dark hair is cut short but is left long enough to be perfectly messy. His bright blue eyes are already piercing into my exhausted ones.
"Sorry for the commotion, sir. I'll try to handle them quicker next time," I start, but my nerves are lessened by the slightly impressed look upon James' features.
"I've never seen you get angry before," my boss notes, making more heat crawl up my neck.
"Yeah well, I used to let everyone use me as their doormat, but I don't let people walk all over me anymore." I respond with half of a laugh. He hums at that, his eyes trained on me.
I break the contact first, turning around suddenly to my desk to avoid the way his eyes seem to burn the air between us to nothing.
"Miss Y/L/N, can I have a word with you in my office?" He speaks again after a few agonizing moments of silence. My hands freeze and I slowly turn around to find his gaze inquisitive.
"Of course, boss" I reply, clasping my hands together to hide the way they tremble slightly. James Barnes is quite possibly the most terrifying person I've ever met, and yet the more time I spend in this job the less he scares me.
When follow his gesture to walk before him to his office, he slips his hand to the small of my back as I enter and I swear my skin sets on fire. I hurry away from his touch and into a chair as fast as I can. There's a slight hint of amusement upon his features as he settles back in his massive chair, eying me from across the desk.
"Is...is everything alright, sir?" I question after a minute of the thick silence. He sits straighter at this, leaning his forearms on his desk and clasping his hands together.
"Do you have a criminal record, Miss Y/L/N?"
His question startles me so much that it takes me a moment to respond.
"I'm...sorry?" I question, not understanding where this is going.
"Anything at all," James continues as if I didn't say a word, "Petty theft, aggravated assault, murder-"
"Sir I definitely don't have a criminal record," I cut in, my heart beginning to increase in speed. James nods, his blue eyes pinning me to the spot.
"Good, that makes you unsuspecting," he states, only heightening my confusion, "In order for you to be of best use, not to mention safe, it's best if you know exactly what it is that I do."
I sit completely dumbstruck and left with no response at all. My mouth opens and closes as I search for words, but I can't seem to find any.
"You've got a backbone and you're an honest, hard worker. That, you've proven. And, against my better judgement," Barnes pauses, his gaze taking on a somewhat softer, almost vulnerable gaze, "I trust you, Y/N."
My heart leaps into my throat and something stirs within me when he says that...that word. Y/N. My name. He said my name for the first time since he hired me. I don't know why it has such an effect on me, but it does.
Before I can stop myself, I blurt "I trust you too."
I do? When did I make that decision? And why did I just say it out loud?
Something in my boss's face shifts at my words, but he masks it with his usual cool, calm demeanor. He sits again in silence for a moment, taking in me and my response before he nods.
"The business I run is more lucrative than what the surface shows. I need someone on my side on the surface level, an associate who can assist me in matters at this office."
"This office?" I repeat, my brows furrowing together as my heart begins to race again. What does he mean by lucrative? And why is there excitement bubbling in my gut?
What he says next would change my life forever.
"I'm the White Wolf, Y/N." my boss's low voice rumbles, his eyes bright and clear, "I'm the-"
"King of organized crime, ruler of the New York mob," I interrupt, my eyes wide and my entire being not comprehending what's happening. I should leave. I should quit this job and call the police and leave. I should be terrified. But there's something in those eyes...
What I say next would start that life of crime I mentioned earlier, and quite frankly I still don't fully understand where it came from within me.
"Sure," I simply say, and the shock that splays on James' face must mirror my own.
"Sure as in..." he trails off, waiting for me to elaborate and clarify what we both know I mean. I swallow down my nerves and go with the decision my entire head is screaming against but my entire gut yells louder for.
"I'm in," I say, this time with more confidence, "Like I said before, I trust you. And I get the feeling you'd kill me if I said no."
Humor traipses across his features as he sits back in his chair in surprise. He plays with the ring in his finger, nodding slightly to me.
"That went better than planned," he murmurs, and I don't know why but I feel like smiling. My entire body is buzzing and my head is swimming, but something deep inside of me is waking up.
I've been walked all over my entire life. That's just the way it's been. I didn't know the difference between being nice and being a doormat for people's convenience until I was well into my life. As much as I hate to admit it, there's something about James Barnes that I trust, there has been since the day I met him. I felt it pull deep in my soul and now, knowing what he does and who he is...
It's time I control my fate, time that I grab my destiny and force it into motion. It's time that I stop letting people walk all over me and be the person who has a voice and a say and...and power. I've heard of the White Wolf as long as he's been around. He may be ruthless but he is not cruel. He's always looked out for the city, taken the scum off the streets and done the things the politicians refuse to. I trust James. And something deep within me is shouting that this is right, that this my destiny, that this is the strings of fate pulling.
And I know when to listen.
"Welcome, Ms. Y/L/N," James announces, standing and keeping his gaze burning down on mine, "To the real business."
|||
Seven months later.
One night, about seven months after the conversation that absolutely changed my life, I'm working overtime in the office.
My hands are dug into my hair and my eyes droop closed. I release my hold on my hair to knock back the last of an energy drink, but the liquid has little effect. I desperately read through the computer screen, hoping to solve the legal entanglement before me.
James informed me when I came into work this morning that some over-righteous beat-cop was looking too much into the business we hide behind our Property Management company. I've been here all day long trying to figure out how to file all the necessary forms to make this disappear and seem a joke. That's taken longer than I expected, though, and at nearly midnight, James and I are still here working.
"God, this is awful," I groan, dropping my head to rest on my arms upon my desk, my forehead seeping in the cool of the wood. I hear my boss's office door open but don't even bother moving. Eventually, a soft laugh sounds that makes me drag my head up and look over to its origin.
"You look absolutely pitiful" James comments, his tired eyes dancing with a humor that seeps into my own features slowly. A small smile tugs at my lips as I sit up fully.
"Thanks, that's what I was going for," I quip sarcastically.
He coughs out a laugh that makes my chest tighten slightly and some of the exhaustion part. Over the months working for the White Wolf of crime, we've become...friends. Well, as close to friends as a mob boss and his secretary can get.
"Come on, let's take a break. We've been at this for too long, I don't even know how you can think straight," James mentions. I shake my head, blinking a few times before turning back to the computer screen.
"No, I've almost got this loophole figured out and we'll be golden if I can just-" I'm cut off abruptly by a strong, calloused hand gently gripping my chin and turning it up so I'm looking at James. My heart gallops suddenly and it takes every ounce of strength to keep my composure against the charge coursing through me.
"Y/N, take a break," he mumbles so soft that a shiver runs down my spine. We stay locked like that for a moment until I nod and pull myself out of his grip by standing.
"Alright" I murmur, breaking the tense, charged moment by pointing a finger at him.
"But if you bring out alcohol on the job, so help me James Barnes I'll turn you in to the police myself," I threaten emptily. He laughs genuinely this time, and it warms my spirit.
"Come on, doll. I've got an idea" he urges, walking out to the massive open save before my desk. I eye him warily and step to it, hoping that the sudden skittering and tripping of my heart at that nickname doesn't show. He's never called me anything but my name, before. Now, it's almost too easy to forget that I work for him.
"You might wanna take your heels off," he suggests, which only heightens my confusion. Nonetheless, I slip the footwear off and walk barefoot in my pant suit to my boss.
"Should I be concerned?" I ask, bringing another humored glint to those beautiful steel eyes.
"No," Barnes says simply, my eyes darting to his forearms as he rolls up the sleeves of his button-up, "I've actually been meaning to do this for a while. You're working for me in a very dangerous business, and although your involvement is kept a secret, I want you to be able to defend yourself if anything goes wrong."
His words settle over me heavily as I shrug my close-tailored suit jacket off and lay it on my desk. This is actually a smart idea. I sure don't want to be helpless should the time come and, lets be honest, it inevitably will.
"Okay," I reply, walking warily in front of my boss who's practically made of muscle, "Teach me."
Something dark floods his eyes that he blinks away quickly before holding his hands up in a fighting position, gesturing for me to do so. I oblige, putting my fists up in the best way I can. He walks over to me, slowly taking a few steps around my body to inspect my stance.
"Not bad," Barnes announces before stepping close to my side and placing those large hands against my torso and turning it slightly, "There, like that you can use the power you have against someone who might have a lot more than you."
His touch muddles my mind and I can't help but feel that his burning hands linger for a second longer than necessary before he steps away and back in front of me. Even as he does, I instantly feel like I'm missing something without his warmth. It's been that way since I began working here, though. Every little touch here and there has gotten me irrevocably addicted to the feel of him.
I'm so startled by the thought that it almost shows on my face. That train of thinking is...is highly unprofessional.
"Now, punch me" he orders. I hesitate, but don't lower my fists.
That's also unprofessional, and yet look at us.
"Are you sure?" I ask, and he simply nods. I shrug, "Alright then."
I throw the best punch I've got, but he dodges it easily and grabs my fist in his hand. Before I know what's happening, his leg hooks around my vulnerable one that I stepped with and he throws the momentum of my punch back at me so that I crash to the ground. I know that if he'd done that little move fully my back would've slammed into the ground along with my skull. Instead, he follows me to the ground and wraps an arm around my waist, breaking my fall and easing me to the ground as he hovers above me.
I know he means to say something, but words must die for him too when the all too small space between our bodies is realized. I can barely breathe and it's as if time itself has stopped. I watch his fingers flex on the floor by my head, almost as if he's going to reach out to me but chooses against it. All too soon, the moment is broken when James stands and extends a hand down to me. I take it and let him pull me up to standing, disappointment and relief mingling in my stomach.
"That move can save your life, especially against someone bigger than you." James says, a little bit more distantly than he was before.
I thank him quietly and watch him clear his throat and walk back to his office. He pauses when he reaches the door and looks back over at me.
"Y/N, I want you home in an hour tops." He orders. I nod, still slightly breathless.
"And if I stay longer?" I taunt, not even knowing where the words come from. He tilts his head at me, a challenging gaze taking over.
"Then I'll throw you over my shoulder and walk you out myself."
I almost think he means it from the mischief lingering in his gaze.
Sure enough, I go home an hour later.
|||
Five months later
It wasn't until about a year after I joined in on the mob business that I realized how well I was beginning to know James.
And how much more he was becoming to me.
"Y/N, can you get me-"
I cut off my boss by setting down two steaming coffee cups.
"Two triple espressos with low fat cream," I announce, before fishing the folder out from underneath my arm and setting it on the desk before him, "And the monthly finance report. The guys in finance weren't finished when I came by yesterday, so I made sure they had it done for this morning's meeting."
James stares up at me in shock for a moment. That shock is still lingering when he says, "And the meeting schedule?"
"Already in your computer, I emailed it to you last night. I also sent it out to everyone who's coming and made sure to tell Mr. Martinelli 10:30 instead of 11:00 so he arrives on time." I respond, clasping my hands before me and giving my boss a light smile.
"Oh," I exclaim, turning around suddenly and picking up the package I left by his door, "And this gift basket came with a heartfelt apology from Mr. Lankov. It did have an assortment of toffee-filled chocolates which I went ahead and removed for you."
Mr. Barnes reaches over and slides the basket I set down on his desk towards himself before looking up at me. He looks almost impressed, which is high praise enough.
"Will that be all, Mr. Barnes?" I ask when he just stares at me for another minute. I feel my entire body burning under his gaze and, as usual, the air is thick and palpable whenever we're in a room alone. His gaze hardens again into the cold, meticulous mob boss he is and he nods once
"That'll be all, thank you Ms. Y/L/N."
I nod and turn to walk out only to be stopped by his voice calling out to me again.
"Y/N?" James announces, making me turn to him again. I don't know what I expect him to say, but it certainly isn't what comes from him, "I think you are too close of a friend to be calling me James and Mr. Barnes by now."
My heart stutters, but I keep the emotion that surges from his words from splaying all across my face. He considers me a close friend, not just his secretary. When did it ever become more?
When did I ever convince myself it wasn't more.
"What would you like me to call you?" I ask, and the question seems all too formal. The corner of his lips tug up and the movement makes my stomach flip.
"Most of the people closest to me just call me Bucky," he informs, and a rush thrills my entire body as I nod and try to keep my smile small.
"If you need anything else let me know, Bucky." I reply, and something darkens in his gaze.
I'm frozen for another moment, his stare binding me to where I am. Phantom electricity skitters across my limbs and I realize how much I have to restrain myself from walking closer to him. It's almost as if he's the Earth and I'm the moon, caught in his gravity and unable to pull away, All at once I come to my senses and leave his office quicker than usual. I make sure the door is shut behind me before I press my back up against the cool surface.
My heart is pounding in my chest. That was too personal, that was all too personal and wildly unprofessional. Nothing that was said was but the way he looked at me, the way I melted in my spot at that gaze. It was all consuming, and I didn't think I could breathe in that room. He's a mob boss, my mob boss, and I'm his secretary. James...Bucky is naturally a brooding, intense sort of person so the way he looked at me wasn't unusual. The way my entire being reacted was.
And he's so much more than my boss, no matter how much I may try to ignore it.
As the day goes by, I try to rationalize it all. In the end, I know everything there is to know about him—what he likes and dislikes, his routines, his daily patterns. It's my job to, but he doesn't know that about me.
If he did he'd know that today is my...
I think that same thing over and over to comfort myself that everything is normal and okay, but it only just makes a part of me sink. It's almost as if the thought that I'm not more to him has the potential to break me.
You can only be broken by things that hold you.
I'm jarred from that thought when Bucky's voice sounds over my business phone speaker.
"Y/N, my office" He says simply, his voice holding that natural authority and sharp edge that it usually has.
I get up and am walking into his office moments later. Once I'm inside, I take notice that Bucky's hard at work on some document before him and doesn't even spare me a glance until the door clicks shut behind me. At this sound, he looks up and sets down his pen. He stands slowly and adjusts the cuffs of his suit jacket. That small movement sends my entire body into a downward spiral.
"You tried to hide something from me, Y/N," Bucky rumbles, and my stomach hits the floor.
I did? What did I try to hide?
"Sir, I'm not entirely sure what-"
My word die out as he stalks around his desk and up to me. My entire body is trembling, but not from fear, when he stops before me and stares at me so deeply that I feel like he's taken my heart straight from my chest with his bare hands. I'm not so sure he hasn't.
"It was a valiant effort, really," he muses, and I still have no idea what he's talking about, "But even if I only know you half as well as you know me, there was no way you could've hidden it."
My brows are furrowed when he finally reaches into his suit pocket and pulls out an envelope.
"Happy birthday, Y/N," My boss whispers, and the moment feels all too intimate as he hands me the envelope.
He knew it was my birthday. That thought sends a thrill through me that I wish I could forget. I look down at the envelope and back up at Bucky who stares at me with the hint of a genuine smile on his lips.
"You didn't have to..." I whisper, but he gives me a 'really' sort of look.
"You do everything for me, and I'm pretty sure my world would fall apart without you. Now open it."
That only makes my heart race harder and I can't keep away my smile as I open the envelope. Everything seems to fade away when I pull out what's inside. There's no card, just a single slip of paper. When I flip that paper over, I realize that I'm in love with him.
Because it's a round-trip ticket to Kinsale, Ireland. A place I mentioned only once months ago that I've always wanted to go to.
I look up at him, my eyes wide and already filling with tears that I refuse to let go.
"How did you know?" I breathe.
"You said it was one of your dreams to go, and it's hard to forget when you speak about something so passionately." Bucky's reply softer than I've ever heard him be.
I've seen him kill people, torture criminals, and threaten politicians. I've seen him command his mob and rule with certainty and ruthlessness. And yet here he is, giving me one of my dreams because I mentioned it once.
I love him. I know it then, and I don't think I'll ever escape it. I've loved before, but never has it felt like this. This is encompassing and devouring and scary. It's real and deep and world-shifting. How much in love I realize I am with him is the kind of love I never thought I'd get. And yet...
I know it's unprofessional, but I can't stop from stepping forward and getting on my tip toes to wrap my arms around his neck in a sudden hug. He freezes, and for a moment I wonder how long it's been since he's been hugged. Bucky gives in almost instantly and wraps his strong arms around my torso, tugging me closer to him. I decide in this moment that this is my favorite place to be. Kinsale might have been one of my dream places, but this, in his arms, has just as quickly topped the list.
All too quickly I realize the intimacy of this position and pull away, no matter how much it leaves me feeling cold and alone.
"Thank you," I whisper, clearing my throat and taking a step back, "No one's ever done anything like this for me before."
Bucky just stares at me with that all-encompassing gaze.
"Then they're all idiots," he murmurs, and my traitorous heart surges again.
This man is my boss. He's the most powerful person in this city and the last thing he'll do is care about someone as powerless as me. And yet...and yet, and yet, and yet. I can't stop.
|||
Eleven months later.
Eleven months later and I'm still just as totally screwed.
I can't stop the feelings that bubble through me, that take me over and encompass everything I am and hoped I could escape. I tried convincing myself he was nothing, tried to fall for someone else, anyone else, but I can't.
James Bucky Barnes is intoxicating in the most wonderful and awful way. And I can't quit him.
That's why I'm here at Angel's Fall, the bar every corporate associate and beat cop or detective in our slice of town finds themselves at after work. I haven't been in a while, not much liking the smell or taste of alcohol, but after spending nearly ten straight hours with Bucky that serve as a reminder that I'll never have him, I needed to take the edge off.
"Anything else I can get for you, babes?" The bartender asks as she takes a stop in front of me, giving me a friendly smile. I return the gesture and let out a long sigh, finishing out the last of my whiskey sour.
"Scotch, straight," I request, giving her a tired smile, "Thanks."
"Sure thing," she replies, instantly beginning to make my drink, "You seem like you've had a long day."
I scoff, running a hand through the hair that I freed from my low bun, "Long few months."
"That bad, huh? Well I'll keep these going till you say when, sweetie," she replies, sliding my drink to me. I give her another quiet thanks before she leaves to her job.
"Y/N? Y/N is that you?"
I furrow my brows, not putting the voice to a face. I turn towards the sound of the man to find him standing beside me. Once my eyes land on his features, my entire being runs cold. Instantly what little alcohol I had in my system sobers out and my blood freezes in my veins. It's as if I've been dunked in ice water and I find it hard to draw in breath.
"Ian. It's been ages" I comment, my voice thankfully not trembling like I expected it to be. Ian laughs before me, leaning on the bar and drinking me in with his eyes. I squirm under his gaze, which only serves to make me uncomfortable.
"Damn right," he comments, smirking at me lazily with that smile that wrecked my life nearly three years ago, "I've missed you, baby."
I bristle at the nickname, my heart flinching even if my body doesn't. I know he's probably missed me, I had to move to a new state to escape him the first time. I thought I'd done good, too. I'd gotten settled here for a while and then worked my way up to a job at Bucky's company. The past almost two years in Bucky's business have been so good for me that I almost forgot my life before it, the reason why I was so ready to take on the life of organized crime.
The reason stands before me, proof that our demons never die. They just hide away until we're vulnerable again.
"What are you doing in New York?" I ask, trying to make polite small talk and avoid the obvious elephant in the room.
The elephant being that the last time I saw him, I smashed a lamp over his head before I scrambled out of his apartment and to the nearest cab that whisked me far far away, leaving behind all of my belongings except for a wad of twenties and my cellphone.
"I got a transfer to a firm a few blocks from here not too long ago. God, you look great Y/N," Ian averts. He says my name again, almost as if he can't believe I'm standing before him. I nod, wringing my wrists and shoving my forgotten drink away from me.
"That's great, Ian." I keep it simple, knowing that if I talk too much I'll lose myself again. I spend my mental energy searching the thickening crowd of people for a way out. I even consider signaling the bartender that I need an escape.
I'm barred from my thoughts when his hand, a hand I'll never forget, skims over my arm. I jerk my attention back to him, ripping my arm away from him as fast as I can and taking a step back.
"Woah, calm down baby. No need to be so jumpy" Ian placates, that same easy, manipulative smile that would bring me crawling right back to him every time stretching across his features. It makes my blood turn to ice and my stomach roil.
"Do not touch me," I command, surprised at the strength in my tone. It's a strength I didn't have before I got this job, "You lost that right long ago."
Ian's shock is not easily hidden. He realizes in that instant that I'm not the same girl I was three years ago when he broke me and used me and ruled my emotions. I've grown and gotten stronger because someone saw the potential in me to handle power with ease, to be a part of something bigger and stronger than anything I'd been in before. It may shatter me to be around Bucky every day, but he still saved my life in ways he'll never know.
I used to see the world as good and evil, black and white. Now, after my work in the mafia, I know it's gray. There's evil in the good and good in the evil. No one is ever truly both, and sometimes the ones you think are the villains are truly the heroes.
"I-" Ian cuts himself off with a surprised laugh, his eyes incredulous upon me, "I'm sorry, when did you convince yourself of that lie?"
"What lie?" I grit out, and I almost slap myself for indulging him. I'm quickly unhinging, though, and I know that if I stay in this conversation much longer I'll break back into a remnant of who I was. I try to swallow my bile at the thought. I refuse to do that.
"The lie that you're strong. The lie that you can survive in your own, the lie that you'll be anything or anyone without me," Ian seethes, his words sickly sweet like unsuspecting poison. His words cut me so deep that I almost shatter right there as old wounds I thought had scarred over rip open. Instead, I remind myself of the strength and control I've garnered these last two years working for Bucky Barnes.
And then I slap my ex so hard across the face that my hand stings.
"I am not some helpless little girl that's still in love with you," I grit out, my tone sharper than I've ever heard it before, "You broke me once, you are not going to do it again."
His shocked eyes are so wide upon me that I almost don't register his hand raising to strike me back until my head whips hard to the side and pain explodes across my cheek. When I snap my gaze back to him, my eyes brimming with tears of rage and instability, I see him open his mouth to say something. His words don't make it out.
Not before the crowd of patrons splits and a hand closes around Ian's throat so fast and with such force that his back is slammed into the bar.
Oh, I must've forgotten to mention this before. The Angel's Fall is one of the bars the White Wolf owns.
And here the wolf is himself.
I'm so shocked by Bucky's sudden intrusion that I'm left speechless as his grip tightens on Ian's throat and he brings his face that's flooded with an icy rage close to Ian's clearly terrified one. No one lifts a finger to protest or stop my boss, because they all know who this place belongs to.
"You touch her again and I'll kill you," Bucky growls lowly, and Ian is smart enough to believe him as he nods quickly.
Something warm and bright twists in my chest at his words, even when I know any normal person would be screaming or calling the cops. I've never seen Bucky like this before, not about me at least. About his business, sure. But not me.
"When I let go, you're going to leave this bar and this city," my boss commands, his tone leaving no room for negotiation, "If I ever see you again, I will not hesitate to slit your throat."
Ian whimpers, a sound that I hadn't realized would bring me so much wicked joy, a sound that satisfies the thirst for vengeance that I hadn't even realized I held.
"Now, thank me for my mercy and apologize to Ms. Y/L/N," Bucky orders, his grip loosening enough on Ian's airways to let him gasp out the commanded words.
Once he does, Bucky lets him go. His hand isn't off of Ian's neck for two seconds before my ex-boyfriend is scurrying out of the bar. The noises resume as usual, everyone carrying on as if a man's life was not just threatened. Bucky turns his gaze, still filled with that icy rage, towards me and it softens in a way that melts me.
"Are you okay?" He asks.
I avoid the question completely, hoping he'll forget to inquire about it again.
"Thanks for that," I manage out, ignoring the burning of my now very tender cheek, "I honestly thought I had it under control but then I just had to go and slap him."
"That gives him no right to lay a hand on you," Bucky asserts, taking a step closer to me and running a gentle, calloused hand over my hurt cheek. The simple motion sends electricity surging through my entire body and I somehow feel empty when he clenches his jaw and drops his hand.
"You didn't answer my question. Are you okay?" Bucky asks again, not taking a step back.
My heart is pounding and my body is overrun with so many different emotions that I don't know what to focus on or how to stop it all. I may be looking directly into those steel blue eyes, but I'm miles and years away. Memories of Ian and a version of me I often try to forget flash through my mind and I can't stop them.
"Who said you could parade yourself around like a whore when you are mine?" Ian growls out, making me flinch back and wrap an arm around my torso.
"I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"
My head whips to the side with the force of his hand. The sting sets in with the silence for a few moments, suffocating me and drowning me in my own pain. Then I hear him sigh and walk up to me, his hands now gentle as he turns my face up to his.
"Baby, I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry, baby. I didn't mean to do that, can you forgive me?" His words are sweet and his eyes genuinely sad. I look up at him warily and almost pull away when that breathtaking smile tugs onto his lips.
"For me, baby? I promise I'll never lay a hand on you again. I don't deserve you"
"Okay" I whisper, letting him kiss my lips and then the cheek that he'd hit again and again and again and as long as I'd keep forgiving him.
I don't even realize I'm not at the bar anymore until there's a soft click of a door behind me and I register a warm, strong hand encasing my own as Bucky leads me into what looks to be an office in the back of the bar.
I hadn't even realized I'd zoned out. I haven't done that in...in a very long time.
He lets go of my hand only to capture my face in his surprisingly gentle hold. When my eyes meet his, everything seems to quiet in the blue of his irises. Still, my mind is aching to send me back to three years ago, to broken bottles and shattered hearts patched with false kisses and pretty words.
"You're safe," Bucky assures, his face softer than I've ever seen it, "You're safe and you're here. I don't know where you went just now but I need you to come back to me, okay?"
Bucky's soothing voice brings me back to reality and grounds me to the moment until all that's left is this room and him and me.
"That's it, there you go, doll. Stay right here with me," he breathes, making my heart flutter. We stand in silence like that for a few moments that stretch for eternity, with his thumbs running across my cheeks until the consciousness returns to my gaze.
"You gonna tell me what happened?" Bucky asks, taking a step back and pulling his hands from my face. I almost make a noise of protest at the loss of contact, but stop myself. Instead, I just shrug.
"It was nothing, really. Just an ex of mine who doesn't know boundaries," I respond, but I can tell that he doesn't buy a word of it.
Bucky takes a slow step towards me again. This time when I tilt my head up to keep his gaze, something tender and almost tangible crackles in the air between us, tugging and pulling and yanking us together. In the steel of his eyes is a dichotomy of emotions, ranging from a breaking softness to a stifled rage that I don't think is directed at me. It sends shivers racing down my spine.
"Y/N," he starts, and my knees almost turn weak at that one utterance, "I think you're not telling me because you know what I'll do. But I need you to understand something before you leave this room and we go back to our daily routine."
One of his hands hooks under my chin, and his thumb grazes ever so lightly over my lip and so swiftly that I almost think I imagined it.
"I don't care who I have to kill or what I have to do. I will do anything if it means protecting you. Anything." He vows, that rage still lit in his eyes. But when I look closer, it seems to be fueled by something so much deeper, so much richer.
I don't know why the words slip past my lips but it does before my mind can stop them.
"Ian manipulated me for years," my voice is trembling and unsure and so unlike every other time I've spoken with him, "He'd use me as his punching bag and then cry on his knees for me. I was stupid then, I always came crawling back. It wasn't until this job that I learned to stand up for myself."
Bucky's entire body is as rigid as a board and I know that look in his eyes. It's the look that appears when he grows unhinged and closer to losing himself to the rage and carnal violence. His jaw clenches and he seems to compose himself.
"What do you want me to do to him?"
It's a simple question, but in his eyes I can see what Bucky wants to do. I can see it as clear as day and it sets my entire being on fire. I choke up, though, because as much as I want to open my mouth and ask for him to kill him, I can't seem to. He sees my hesitancy and nods, taking a step back from me and adjusting his suit.
"Just let me know, Y/N," Bucky states, sounding more professional again as he turns and heads towards his office door.
A sudden sense of urgency overtakes me and I dart forward, grabbing a gentle but insistent hold of his arm that makes Bucky freeze and turn back to me. His arm is in my grasp and I realize that I'm holding on to it for a sense of stability as I try to get the words out. I think he realizes it too because Bucky lets me hold his arm, his eyes boring into mine and that professionalism dropping for a moment. I open my mouth, but close it again, my entire being trembling as flashes of every horror I endured with Ian overtake me.
"I want him gone," I finally manage out, my voice barely more than a whisper, "Please,"
Bucky's eyes search my face for a moment before a certain softness overtakes his gaze. I can see in his eyes that he knows exactly what I mean, even if I can't say the words out loud. He pulls his arm from my grasp only to take a hold of my hand and bring it to his lips. My heart nearly explodes from my chest when he places a kiss to the top of my hand. My skin is ignited where his lips touched it and I almost can't think straight.
God, I'm so in love him. I love him so much it hurts.
"Done." Bucky vows, his eyes never leaving mine.
Ian's mutilated body turned up in an alleyway the next morning.
|||
Two weeks later
I don't know how everything could have gone so wrong only a few weeks later. It all just happened so fast.
"Yes sir, the catering should arrive about 7:00 pm...yes sir, thank you sir. See you then,"
Once the phone is hung up, I take the pen from behind my ear and check off the catering company from my list of gala preparations. In just a few days, the company is going to be holding its annual Employee and Beneficiary Gala. My last few days have been consumed with making sure it runs seamlessly.
"Excuse me, miss. I have a 3:15 with Mr. Barnes." A man's voice I don't recognize calls out to me.
I look up from my paper, smiling warm at the business man who stands before me. My smile falls slightly when I see that he doesn't seem all too happy at the moment, but I set it aside.
"Yes, Mr..." I pause, looking over at my computer screen and scanning for his name, "Stark?"
"That's me." Mr. Stark responds.
"Alright. I'll let Mr. Barnes know that you're here and you should be right in," I inform, giving the man a polite nod before calling Bucky. While I inform him that his appointment is here, I can't help the uneasiness in my chest at Mr. Stark's grave expression.
"You can go on in," I inform once I get off the phone, giving the man a quick smile before turning back to my work, my entire being crawling for some reason.
The meeting's normal for the first few minutes, but pretty quickly their voices begin to raise.
"You need to be careful, Barnes! Pierce and his men are looking for any in to attack our organization."
Alexander Pierce, that's the boss of Bucky's largest rival—Hydra.
"Trust me, Stark. I am careful and perfectly capable of taking care of my business." Bucky grits back. I lift my hands off my keyboard, my attention slipping to listening to the words.
"No, you're not, you're being reckless. You're getting too close and you know it! She is a weakness!" Stark practically shouts. I hear a sudden screech of chair legs on the floor and a brief silence.
Whatever is said next is too hushed for me to hear, but I'm able to catch the last few words.
"I'll take care of it. You know I will," Bucky says, and the office door opens.
"I know you will, buddy. I just needed to get you there," Stark replies, shaking Bucky's hand before turning and walking past my desk without so much of a glance.
"Have a nice day to you too," I whisper beneath my breath.
"Ms. Y/L/N, my office" Bucky says abruptly from his office. His tone seems...almost cold, unfeeling. And he called me Ms. Y/L/N.
With furrowed brows, I get up and make my way into his office, closing the door behind me per his request. I settle down in one of the chairs before his massive desk, an inexplicable worry washing over me. Nonetheless, I ignore the feeling and carry on as normal. Thinking this to be one of the many previous briefings we've had on the gala, I begin to give him my report.
"The catering company is all set for Saturday as is the decorating committee and half-orchestra. All that's left is to-"
"I'm letting you go." Bucky interrupts suddenly, his voice so nonchalant and his gaze so flippantly down on the papers before him that I almost don't register his words.
As in...he's...firing me?
"I'm...sorry?" I question, to which his jaw clenches tightly.
"You are formerly fired, Ms. Y/L/N. Effective immediately," Bucky clarifies, and it feels as though the floor's been ripped out from underneath me.
I can barely breathe let alone hear over the sudden roaring in my ears. He's firing me, after all this time?
"Bucky, I don't-"
"Sir," he interrupts, finally snapping his gaze up to mine. His tone and glare are so ferocious that I almost think he'll pull a gun on me anytime soon.
That one simple correction makes my heart shatter. He hasn't been 'sir' in I don't even know how long. And the way he's looking at me right now...it's almost like he couldn't loathe anyone more in the moment. Like he doesn't even know me. Like he didn't just kill a man for me.
Like he didn't let me fall in love with him.
Tears burn my eyes as I steel my face and straighten up in the chair, clenching my hands so hard together in my lap that they turn white.
"Sir," the word is bitter on my tongue and I feel sick to my stomach more so than I ever have, "May I ask why?"
"Your work is sloppy and your intentions with my business, both legal and not, are undecipherable. I have decided that the best intention for me and my business is to part ways irrevocably with you, Ms. Y/L/N."
It takes everything within me to not let my mouth drop open in shock. The hurt that flashes through me is so piercing and raw and real that it arrests my chest. I can't...I don't know what I did wrong.
"You're just going to let me walk away," I breathe, my jaw clenched tightly, "With everything I know about you and your mob. You've killed people for less."
His cold, calculating eyes study me for a minute before he leans back in his chair, his features the picture of nonchalance.
"You won't tell anyone. You and I both know I wouldn't hesitate to kill everyone you love and then you." Bucky informs blatantly.
That's when my heart splinters. Because I can see in his eyes that he means every single word. Emotion blocks my throat as I simply stare back at him, no longer working to hide my shock or pain. I nod once and I stand, smoothing out my silk blouse.
"I've lost everyone I love, you're out of luck there."
The lie burns so strongly on my tongue that it nearly makes me physically sick. I say it to make it true, to trick my mind and heart into believing it. I should hate him. I should loathe him with every fiber of my being. But I just...can't.
With tears that I refuse to let fall swimming in my eyes, I stare down at the man who changed my life, who stole my heart and is now breaking it.
"Whatever it is that you've been relentlessly pursuing these past years, whether it's power or money or blood," I whisper, not daring to bring my voice above it for fear that it will shake, "I hope you find it."
Bucky's gaze bores into mine, something unreadable that's nearly akin to conflict flashing through his eyes. Without a word, I turn and leave, stopping only at my desk to grab my things before leaving. Leaving this office, leaving the mob, leaving him.
And as I drive home with silent tears streaking down my cheeks, I can't ignore the gaping, pain-filled hole in my heart. I hadn't realized how much I needed that business, that man. But I have to move on. I have to.
And yet, I have this awful feeling that I'm not going to be able to.
|||
A few days later
It's the day of the gala, and it's all I can do to keep myself composed.
I've been an emotional wreck the last few days, and as much as I've tried to deny it I can't any longer. I'm in love with Barnes, I have been for a while and as bad as I want it to, it's not just going to go away. Losing the job was like losing Bucky, and I hadn't realized how much I leaned on him until he was ripped away.
"Oh come on, you stupid computer," I grumble, shoving my laptop aside as it launches into an update I didn't ask for.
When I woke up today, I decided it was time I start looking for another job. No matter how much it hurts, I have to move on if I have any chance of continuing on with my life. I was job searching when this piece of junk laptop started to reboot.
My attention is glued to my television and the show I have playing while I wait for my laptop to finish the update. I get so engrossed in the show that I almost miss it when the screen goes bright and it turns back on.
"Finally," I breathe, pulling it back to me and typing in my password.
As soon as it opens to my desktop, my laptop begins to pop up a bunch of random windows from my most used apps, just like it usually does whenever it's powered down and back up suddenly. I close them out with mild irritation, but freeze when my spreadsheet window opens up, displaying the spreadsheet I was working on last.
The guest list for the gala.
My heart stutters. I'd done so good all of today avoiding thoughts of the event only for my stupid laptop to bring it to the forefront of my mind. My heart wrenches as I can't stop myself from scrolling briefly through the list of invited guests. Near the end, I notice my name and stifle the sudden rise of emotions that inundate me.
With hasty, almost frantic fingers, I rush to delete my name from the sheet. Before I can erase my name, my eyes catch on four names at the bottom below mine. Strange. My name was the last one added. I know because I edited and set up this spreadsheet and only added myself when I had double and triple checked that everyone had been added.
Maybe Bucky found four more to invite. I try to accept the thought, but my curiosity takes the better of me and I can't stop myself from pulling up the internet on another window and searching up the first of the four names.
Xavier Taft. 34 years old, works for a bouncer service...wait. Criminal record.
My heart stutters again. With events like this, we're always so careful to keep the criminals down to only our own, and I've never seen this man's name in our regiment before. With furrowed brows, I search up the next one.
Lance Salone. Bouncer. Criminal record.
My heart is racing when I search the third.
Amanda Vice. No criminal record.
I frown, my adrenaline seizing a little bit. Maybe I was too hasty, maybe those two were just-
Oh my God.
My entire body freezes when I notice an article underneath Amanda Vice's search. She's a personal assistant, like me. But she works for Pierce Enterprises, the cover business for-
"Hydra," I whisper beneath my breath, feeling as though someone's taken the world and spun it around me.
With trembling fingers, I navigate back to the spreadsheet and look to the fourth name. I don't even need to search it up to know.
Alexander Pierce.
My heart is in my throat as I fly my cursor up to the top of my spreadsheet and check to see the editing history. My eyes scan the hundreds of entries by me until they rest in the last entry, one done by an email I don't recognize.
One I never gave permission to edit the document.
"They hacked it," I piece together aloud. Nothing seems real as I throw my laptop off of me and shoot to my feet, the world still spinning. The two bouncers, obvious muscle with the clear ability to kill.
I know I should hate Bucky, I know that I shouldn't give a damn what will go down tonight at the gala, but I can't stop myself from reaching for my phone and dialing the number I saved to my phone of the weapons dealer Bucky's mob used. The man I spoke with on Bucky's behalf many a times picks up on the third ring.
"Y/N. I haven't heard your voice in so long, how are you?" the dealer, a man by the name Nick Fury, asks.
"Nick, this is going to sound so random but I need to know if there's been any movement from Pierce or his men in the last week or so," I rush out. There's a beat of silence on the other end before Nick speaks again.
"What's this about? I thought Bucky fired you," he points out skeptically. My desperation is taking the better of me and I nearly snap.
"Damn it, Nick I just need to know! Has Hydra done anything unusual lately that you know about? If anyone would know it would be you," I practically beg. He must hear the urgency in my tone because he doesn't question me again.
"I caught word they were hanging around upstate earlier this week, they're not usually over there," Nick announces. I furrow my brows.
"Where upstate?"
"Some place called The Sky Palace. Heard they were there for a good bit of time snooping around before they got booted out," Nick answers, pausing for a moment, "Y/N, what's going on?"
I can barely breathe, let alone work up a response. The phone nearly slips from my limp fingers.
"Y/N, are you-"
"That's where the gala is tonight" I whisper, an aching, yawning sort of sensation ripping in my chest at the sudden realization that slams into me.
They're going to kill him. They're going to kill Bucky Barnes and they're going to make a move on our mob.
"I have to go," I rush out, my voice trembling and my stomach roiling with nausea, "Thank you, Nick"
"Of course."
I end the call, rushing to grab my purse and throw on the first pair of shoes I can find. As I rush out of my apartment and into the streets of New York as the sun sets low behind the buildings, I no longer think about the betrayal or hurt. I don't ruminate that I'm fired or that Bucky doesn't care for me like I do him. All I can think about is that my family isn't safe tonight, and I have to do everything in my power to protect them. All of them.
As I whistle for a taxi, my phone is already pressed to my ear and ringing as it tries by I reach my ex-boss. The call goes unanswered as I sit inside the cab.
"Where to?" The driver asks.
I almost say the venue, but pause. I set up Bucky's schedule for today, he should still be at his mansion upstate getting ready. He always did like to make grand entrances. Even if I'm wrong, it's only a ten minute drive to the venue. I give the driver Bucky's address and dial his number again as the driver speeds off.
"You've reached the voicemail box of-"
"Oh come on!" I groan out, pulling my phone away and ending the call. My heart is racing so fast that I can practically feel it trying to run out of my chest. I feel utterly powerless right now knowing that Bucky could die and I can help. What if I don't make it in time? What if he's already gone?
Tears blur my vision and sudden heart ache seizes my chest at the thought. I shove it all down and keep myself composed as I try his number again, but to no avail. Thankfully, we're pulling up to his mansion now. I pay the driver and rush out, putting in the gate code and sprinting to his front door. I don't even waste time knocking, knowing he's probably in the garage or his room, and dig up the spare key from its hiding spot to let myself in.
"Bucky!" I shout as soon as I'm in, slamming the door behind me.
There's no response.
"Bucky please! Are you here?" I shout again, but the silence rings in my ears.
One quick check of his room shows he's not here and when I sprint into the garage, I see one of his twenty cars missing.
I missed him. He's already gone.
I curse, checking my phone to see that he's running fifteen minutes ahead of schedule, something he never does. Of all days to be more punctual to his own event, tonight was probably the worst. I hesitate for only a moment as I ponder what to do.
"You'll forgive me later," I mutter to myself before I spin on my heels and jog to the key rack by the door. I swipe the first set I find and press the button only to find his brand new, cherry red Tesla lighting up.
If things weren't so dire, I'd squeal in excitement.
I don't waste time with giddiness, though, and sprint to the car. I'm inside and have the engine running in record time. Not one minute later, I'm peeling out of the garage and onto the road with screeching tires. I press the gas pedal nearly all the way to the floor, the engine roaring in my ears as I whip into the traffic.
I have to make it. I have to.
|||
And here we are, all caught up.
I hope you understand now more than you did before why I'm so desperate to get to Bucky in time. I hadn't realized it fully in the moment before, but now that I just might lose him, I know that he's everything to me. I wouldn't be half the woman I am without him and his constant assurance that I was strong and skilled and perfectly able to stand up for myself.
I can't lose him, not when he's so much more than a boss to me. So much more.
I cut the ten minute drive to the gala down to four. My headlights cut thought the pitch black night as I swerve up to The Sky Palace that's teeming with cars and richly dressed guests. The Tesla screeches as I grind to a halt before a group of gasping patrons and a wide-eyed valet.
His eyes grow wider when he sees me step out of it in a pair of jeans and a hoodie.
"Don't scratch this car if you want to live," I advise as I toss the young valet the keys. He must think I'm joking because his gaze flashes with humor.
He doesn't realize I'm being dead serious.
I don't care a modicum about the horrified, disgusted looks I'm getting from the elite who are still making their way to the Palace's entrance nor do I care about their cries as I break into a sprint and shove past them all.
I can't let him die, I can't let Pierce hurt my family. I can't.
I only stop running when I reach the two men guarding the front entrance with iPads to check in guests. I know them both, since both happen to be members of Bucky's mob. Their eyebrows furrow once they see me approaching them.
"Y/N?" One asks, his eyes nearly popping from his head, "Boss won't like it that you're here."
"Let me in, Sam," I order, my chest heaving with breath, "He's in danger, you're all in danger."
The two men's eyes widen and they share a look for a moment before glancing back to me.
"Y/N," the other begins, but the panic is getting too much and I cut him off.
"Listen, you're all in trouble. The business is in danger of being thrown into chaos, and your boss-" my voice cuts off with sudden emotion, tears swimming in my gaze, "Your boss is going to die if you don't let me in right now."
They only hesitate a moment longer before they step aside. Relief like I've never known it crashes through me. Just before I walk in, though, Sam catches my arm.
"I don't know what the hell's going on, but we're already falling apart without you. We...he needs you, Y/N," Sam whispers.
My heart tugs painfully in my chest and that same hole opens again. I miss them all, I miss the mob and the meetings where we'd all mess around like kids. I miss Bucky.
And with that last thought, I give Sam a nod before turning and jogging into the Palace.
Classical music wafts into the air, broken up only by soft chatter, laughter, and the clinking of glasses. The gala is classy and elegant and beautifully well-done, but I don't take time to admire any of that. Instead, I race through the room in search of Bucky.
I receive more than one disgusted glare and scoff at my apparel and messy, unkempt hair. I don't give one damn as I try to blend in as much as possible to not alert Pierce or his men while searching for Bucky.
I stop when I reach the grand staircase that leads to an upper balcony, taking the advantage of the steps and climbing a few to see the room from a birds eye view. It only takes me a few seconds to spot Bucky near the center of the room. My heart squeezes in my chest and I almost sob in relief to see him alive and safe. Just before I move to rush down the stairs and towards him, I hear a click from the top of the stair case.
I whip my gaze up in time to see one of the two bouncers from the list, Xavier Taft, begin setting up a sniper rifle atop the dimly lit balcony that no one but him stands atop.
My heart stops. Time freezes. My stomach hits the floor and all I can think about is that I can't lose him.
"No," I breathe, snapping my gaze down to see the gun trained on Bucky.
When I look at him, I see Sam at his side and speaking in rushed tones, probably about me. Knowing I don't have many options left, my mind works in overdrive to figure out the best way possible to do this. I need to cause a distraction, one to catch Xavier's attention long enough for me to finish climbing the stairs and get that gun away from him. At the same time, though, I need Bucky to see it happen, I need him to know his life is in danger so Lance Salone, the other bouncer, doesn't surprise attack him.
Bucky's just snapped his head towards Sam, his brows furrowed and his jaw tight when I make my move, my nerves humming.
"BUCKY LOOK OUT!" I shout, my voice piercing and carrying out over the room. Instantly, Bucky's head snaps up to where I am on the stairs and his entire body goes rigid.
I don't waste time watching him any longer and begin to sprint up the last of the stairs and towards Xavier who curses. He wasn't ready to shoot yet, I timed it perfectly. Beneath me, Bucky sees the gun trained at him and he sees Xavier, who now has his gaze on me. Bucky's entire body changes again into a mode of desperation, but I don't see it. I'm focused on closing the distance between me and the gun that's almost ready.
"Y/N!" Bucky roars, but I'm barely listening over the chaos in my brain.
"Bitch!" Xavier growls, cocking the rifle hastily and wrapping his finger around the trigger. He's too late, because I finish bounding up the stairs and crash into him, knocking him off of his feet and shoving the gun off balance enough so that the bullet he intended for Bucky slams into the roof instead.
Xavier's body slams into the marble tile as I tackle him, but he quickly overpowers me, flipping us over so I'm beneath him. Below us, I can hear screaming and glass shattering, but above the panic I swear I can hear a voice bellowing my name.
I scramble out from underneath Xavier before he can pin me, shooting to my feet and sprinting to the sniper rifle still sitting on the balcony. Just as I hear Xavier get up behind me, I knock the rifle over and send it careening down into the panicking crowd.
"I'll kill you for that!" I hear Xavier spit from behind me, and I whirl just in time to see him throwing a fist at me.
Time suddenly slows, and it's like I'm back in the office that day ages ago where Bucky tried to teach me self-defense. My body remembers the way he grounded me from my punch before my mind does, and I snap back to reality just in time to dodge Xavier's punch. Just like Bucky did to me then, I hook my leg around his and use his momentum to shove him to ground. I crash down on top of him and practically feel the slam of his head into the marble below him.
"Y/N!"
My entire body jumps at Bucky's voice, now close to me. I snap my head around to see him bounding up the stairs, blood splattered across his tuxedo as if he killed a man himself down there during the chaos. I almost sob in relief. He's okay. I melt beneath his gaze that bores down into me as he stoops down to reach out to me.
His hand is inches from me when his eyes snap up to something behind me and horror flashes through his face a millisecond before a hand wraps around my waist and wrenches me to my feet and away from Xavier's unconscious body. I gasp, and the world suddenly goes very still and very quiet as the cool of a gun presses underneath my chin, forcing it up slightly. My stomach hits the floor and I hardly find it in me to breathe.
Bucky stands ever so slowly in front of me, his jaw clenched and his eyes spelling murder.
"Leave her alone, Pierce," Bucky orders, and sudden fear clamps over me.
Alexander Pierce has me at gun point.
"Why? I'm actually quite taken with your girl," Pierce responds, tightening his hold on my waist. I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment at the disgust and fear rolling through me before looking back at Bucky. He catches my slight movement and his fury heightens.
"Pierce, I swear to God if you kill her I will skin you alive," Bucky growls.
"See, now we're getting somewhere," Alexander announces, but I can hear the annoyance in his voice. This isn't what he wanted to happen, "What are you willing to give for her life?"
Immediate tears spring to my eyes and I meet Bucky's gaze again.
"No," I beg immediately, not daring to shake my head because of the gun beneath it, "Let me die. I'd rather die."
Bucky works hard to keep the cold exterior upon his face, but I can see between the cracks that he's...he's terrified.
It's only when Alexander moves his arm that restrains me to cover my mouth that I realize my slim window of opportunity. Without thinking, I slam my free hands into the gun that Pierce holds to the underside of my chin hard enough that it knocks his hand away. His hold loosens in sudden shock and I rip away at the same moment that Bucky darts forward and grabs ahold of me, ripping me to him and immediately crushing me into his side for protection as he rips out his own guns and shoots before Pierce can even recover.
The bullet finds its target perfectly, right between his eyes, and it's over.
My entire body is trembling so violently that I cling to Bucky, scared that my knees will give way from the adrenaline. I've never been in a situation like that before, never been so close to death. Bucky drops the gun from his hold and switches his full attention to me, probably realizing just how pale I've turned and how badly I'm shaking.
Keeping one arm secured around my waist, he runs the other through my hair, his steel blue eyes taking in every feature of mine.
"You saved my life," Bucky murmurs, his hold on me so tight in the most protective sort of way, almost as if he's just as terrified as me, "Even after I fired and threatened you."
I shake my head, tears of relief pooling in my eyes.
"I couldn't let you die."
Bucky's jaw clenches and before he can react I throw my hands around his neck, hugging him close to me. He reacts instantly, wrapping both massive arms around my waist and pulling me close to him, holding me tighter than I ever have been.
"Don't ever do that again, doll," Bucky mumbles into my hair, clenching my hoodie in his fists, "Don't be willing to die for me. I don't deserve it."
I don't know why tears are gathering in my eyes but I find I can't blink them away. I only tighten my grip, nuzzling my head into his neck.
"I don't think I can promise that," I breathe, and my next words come out before I can even stop them, "You'll always be deserving."
Bucky pulls away so fast that my heart lurches into my throat. His eyes examine mine so frantically, so dangerously, so desperately as he holds me out from him. His chest is heaving, almost as bad as mine.
"I did it to protect you, you have to know that. Everything that happened before, it was all to keep them away from you," Bucky swears, and my heart stutters at the look in his eyes, as if the police and ambulance sirens filling the air alongside the shouting don't exist.
"Why?" I breathe, hoping on everything he'll say what I think he will. Bucky brings a hand to cup my cheek, shaking his head at me with something almost close to tears in his eyes.
"You're my only weakness, Y/N, and they know it. Everyone knows it," Bucky murmurs and I swear I stop breathing, "If it came to you or the world I'd pick you every time."
My chest is so tightly constricted that I can hardly draw in any breaths. My chest is moving just as fast as his and butterflies are pressing into my stomach in anticipation for whatever is thick in the air between us.
"Don't ever fire me again," I order, and a low chuckle leaves his lips. My humor drains in a second though, and suddenly it's hard to speak without my voice trembling, "I don't think I'll survive it."
Something breaks in his gaze, softens it and turns it so tender and passionate that my skin tingles. He brings his other hand to cup my face to, so I feel completely under his control.
"Are you sure this is what you want?" He asks carefully, his eyes searching mine, "This life will never slow down. Someone will always want to take you from me."
"I'm sure," I whisper, not even hesitating.
His lips are on mine before the words are even fully out of my mouth. My heart leaps out of my chest as I melt into him, pulling him closer as our lips move in perfect harmony. My entire body feels like liquid and lightning all at once and he's the only thing left in the world. One of his hands finds their way into my hair, leaving me completely at his mercy. When he finally pulls back, he leaves a breath of a kiss on my nose and then my forehead before tilting my chin up to meet his gaze.
"You've been more to me for a long time now, doll" Bucky breathes, and a shiver rushes down my spine. He's so beautiful. A smile twitches onto my lips as I caress his stubble-covered cheek.
"I think how I feel is pretty obvious, considering I did tackle a fully grown man for you," I remark, and a surprised laugh rumbles out of him. The sound nearly turns me weak.
"And it was probably the scariest and hottest thing you've ever done," Bucky assures. This time I laugh and kiss him again, but we're both more serious after it.
"This life may not be safe," he begins, his thumb running over my lip, "But you always will be. As long as I'm here, you'll always be safe."
"I love you, Bucky" I whisper, my words a promise. He freezes, something new and bright flashing through his gaze. I don't think he's ever heard those words before.
"I've always loved you, and I always will," he swears, and for a moment my life is completely and totally content.
It doesn't matter what's happening around us, it doesn't even matter that I nearly died a few times in one day. With Bucky by my side, I feel invincible, I feel strong and capable.
"I don't think I can be your secretary any more," I whisper, and his smile is back, turning my insides to butterflies.
"No, I've got a better idea," he smirks, kissing me quickly.
The next day, Bucky would introduce me to the mob as his equal partner.
The King and Queen of crime.
And it would stay like that for the rest of our time.
I don't know when exactly Bucky Barnes became more than my boss, maybe it was always. Maybe I should have known I was in trouble from the beginning, but it's the best kind of trouble. So, if you ever get the chance to do something a little crazy, maybe something you never thought you would, but it just feels right, then you need to do it.
You never know who will become more to you in the process.
Summary: The reader and Logan have been bantering since the moment they met, and the other members of the X-Men have had enough of the tension and arguments. They decide to take matters into their own hands and shove the two towards the ultimate breaking point.
A/N: I swear on everything that I love that I started this one shot with every intention for it to be just fluff and yet it STILL gets angsty. At this point, I think I have a chronic condition of liking to write about hurt. Well, it led to this beautiful little gem of a story so I'll allow it. Love you and all and keep up with the dreaming 🤍
Warnings: fluffiest fluff i've written in a while, angst near the end, endless banter
Word Count: 4,850
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Have you ever hated someone so much that when they walk into the room all you want to do is punch them in the nuts?
Yeah, me too. Only problem? No matter how hard I punch him, I could never permanently wound him.
"Could you eat any louder? I'm genuinely curious."
I ignore Logan's rumble of a voice, gritting my teeth to keep from starting a fight in the middle of our team dinner. As we sit in the large dining room of Charles Xavier's mansion and school, I focus intently on the noodles before me and not the annoying wolf-man across the table. The X-Men around us keep talking, Logan and I's arguments a normal occurrence in the Mansion.
"God, you're so annoying," Logan mutters, and I drop my fork, staring at him wide-eyed from across the table.
"I didn't even do anything! How could I possibly be annoying you?" I exclaim, my voice incredulous. He gives me a curt smile and damn it if it doesn't still make my heart turn molten. That last tidbit only makes me more infuriated since I can't even control my body around him.
"I think it's just your presence, sweetheart," Logan responds with a wink.
"My presence?" I laugh, grabbing my fork again and pointing it at the man across from me, "At least I'm not the one with a personality that ranges from grumpy to grumpier."
"I'm only grumpy around you," He quips.
"I mean, do you just enjoy being a giant, walking storm cloud? I bet babies scream when you walk past."
Scott chokes on his food beside me to hide his laugh. Neither Logan nor I seem to notice that the table's gone somewhat silent to revel in our showdown.
"No, but I make women scream all the time."
It's Rogue's turn to let out a surprised cough. Despite myself, I find my cheeks heating. I'm glad for being in the midst of an argument, though, so the flushing of my cheeks gives away nothing.
"In terror? I'm sure," I coolly respond, stabbing a piece of chicken to keep from stabbing the Wolverine. Logan sits back in his chair, a smug, heart-twisting smirk on his face.
"Whatever you tell yourself, Y/N." He nods his head towards me, those damn hazel eyes burning into my soul without even trying, "We both know you dream of me every night."
"Oh I do," I concede, painting a look of desperation on my face that makes his brows furrow, "Every night I dream of how I could kill you,"
Logan rolls his eyes, but I see his jaw clenching nonetheless and smirk, knowing I've gotten under his skin.
"Even if I could die, you couldn't kill me if you tried, sweetheart."
I nod my head in acknowledgment, but then reach out with my powers to his food and with a single thought, I order the atoms to rearrange from his dinner and into a fat, squirming toad. He lets out a small noise of surprise and shoves back from the table as the toad hops down and skitters away.
"No, but maybe I'll turn you into a toad like your stir-fry, sweetheart." I look off in the distance, plastering on my best thinking face, "Do you think you'd still have claws? That'd be-"
"That's it," He growls, shoving away from the table and letting his claws rip out. This sends our team from amused observation to panicked mediation. I shove myself up to, holding my arms out.
"What are you gonna do, wolf boy? Come on, try!" I taunt. Chairs are screeching all along the table as our friends shoot to their feet, voices crying out to placate us.
"Calm down you two!"
"What are you, children?"
"Not again! We can't afford to keep buying new dinner tables!"
Logan jumps deftly onto the table, stalking across it and knocking over food as he does until he jumps back down on my side, getting into my face. I stand my ground, bringing him nose-to-nose with me as I glare up at him. The air is charged with tension between us, waiting to snap. My fogged brain doesn't if I want to punch him or...
I shake away the other thought, trying to forget about it.
"Oh I'll show you what I'll do," Logan whispers, the rasp in his voice running down my spine and knocking my heart from rhythm.
"That is enough!" Charles shouts, and the room goes silent immediately. Logan clenches his jaw and looks over to Charles as I do the same. The professor sighs, hanging his head and massaging his temple as if he's developed a massive headache.
"Good Lord, if only you two could hear what was whizzing between your minds. That was so confusing." Professor Xavier huffs out a sigh before wheeling over in front of us.
"Y/N, go find the toad you turned Logan's dinner into and please refrain from turning him into one as well," Charles orders. Logan snickers, probably about to egg on to his statement before Charles turns his head sharply towards him.
"Logan, please refrain from aggravating Miss Y/L/N. I much prefer you as a man, not an amphibian. Although you would be quieter," He adds on, making me snort. I send Logan a pointed look, which he just rolls his eyes to and looks back to Charles.
"You two need to learn to at the very least tolerate each other," the Professor commands, shaking his head incredulously, "You work so well together on missions and you'd be such great...friends if you would just set down this petty feud. Now go to bed both of you, think about ways you can be more civil."
He turns and wheels away, leaving Logan and I standing tensely beside each other and feeling like scolded children. With a shake of my head, I turn and make my way towards my room which just so happens to be right across from Logan's. He trails me, his silent presence overbearing on my mind and heart.
"You ever seen the Professor that flustered?" I ask, desperate to break the charged air between us. Logan lets out a short laugh from beside me.
"I thought his head was gonna explode."
I smile, casting a glance over at the Wolverine, "You'll make him go crazy."
We stop in front of our doors and Logan turns to look down at me, cocking an eyebrow amusedly, "Me? Sweetheart, you're just as bad as I am."
Something about the way he looks at me makes my heart trip. Maybe it's the proximity I don't think either of us realizes, or maybe it's the smirk that drives me crazy, but I take a subtle step back before I do something I'll regret.
"Careful, Howlett. I'll still turn you into a toad," I warn. His smirk turns into that damn half-smile that makes my stomach wild with butterflies.
"Don't let the Professor hear you say that, Y/N. You won't be his favorite anymore,"
I laugh, walking back towards my door, "I think you've been his favorite since the moment you crashed through our doors."
Logan lifts an eyebrow at me, "Is that why you hate me?"
I freeze, a weird, strangling sensation settling into my chest. Does he...does he really think that I hate him?
"Logan," I start, my eyes growing serious in a way that makes the teasing smirk drop from his face, "Logan, do you think I hate you?"
He clenches his jaw, turning more serious than I've ever seen him be. In the hazel of his eyes, I see horrors of the decades he's lived on this Earth flash through his gaze. It makes my heart drop to the floor, and I almost walk over and pull him into a hug.
"It's better if you do." He almost whispers, and then turns and walks into his room, shutting the door behind him.
I stand frozen for a moment in the hallway, trying to work through what he just said. Shaking my head with a sigh, I turn and enter my own room. That night, as I get ready for bed, I can't get my mind off of the Wolverine.
Something stirs in my chest, because the Professor isn't wrong about what he said earlier. From the first moment Logan and I met, we fit together so well that it terrified me. Not to mention that he was breathtakingly attractive in a rugged sort of way that made my inhibitions turn to mush. My attraction stayed for a grand total of ten minutes when he began to argue and pick on me like a seventh grade boy.
I tell everyone that I hate him, that I can't stand him. And I can't, that's true. The whole truth, though? The whole truth is that he only annoys me because I have no control over my body, thoughts, and feelings when I'm around him. I've always managed to keep romance to a one-night-stand sort of level, but every time I banter with Logan something in me craves his easy nature and the way he takes no shit. I need his banter like I need the air I breathe, because without it I feel like I'll get lost in the mundane of my routine. Logan makes me feel...alive in ways that I can't explain. And, as much as he'd never admit it, he's got the softest, kindest heart out of anyone I know.
And sometimes...sometimes I feel like he argues with me to keep me at a distance.
My proof? Every time we have a rare civil conversation like the one we just had, he shuts down for a few days with me. He avoids me, and then when he can't anymore, his usually petty and teasing insults turn grumpier than usual and more charged. It's almost like every time we naturally gravitate closer, Logan shoves us apart.
The only question is why?
|||
Later That Week
"Hey Y/N, I need your help."
I turn my gaze from the papers I'm grading from the science class I teach at the school to Jean who's just walked into my classroom. A smile blooms on my face and I stand from my chair, leaning against my desk as she walks over to me.
"Yeah, anything. What's up?"
"It's Scott and I's anniversary tomorrow night and the Professor just booked me for a mission. Do you think you could cover it for me? I know it's so last minute but Scott and I have had this night planned for weeks," Jean explains.
"Yeah, of course! You need a break as it is," I inform, smiling wryly at my friend, "Go have fun with Scotty. I've got it covered."
A relieved, ecstatic smile explodes onto her face and she rushes forward, pulling me into a hug, "Thank you, thank you, thank you! You're the actual best!"
I laugh, hugging her back before moving back towards my desk chair to continue grading.
"Anytime. Just send over the details tonight," I reply. She nods, affirming she'll do so before thanking me again and breezing out of the room to probably go tell Scott the good news.
|||
The Next Night
I hum to myself as I collect the supplies I'll need for the mission tonight. My hands are busy as I traipse through the supply room in the basement of the Mansion, grabbing various weapons and medical supplies and stashing them in the duffle bag I've got planted on the table in the center of the room.
Storm is set to be on the mission with me, and told me that she'd be getting the jet ready while I grabbed the supplies. So, once the duffle is packed, I sling it over my shoulders and make my way over the hanger. Just as she said, the jet sits humming and ready, the coordinated no doubt already punched in. The back hatch rests open, beckoning me in. As I walk up the ramp and into the belly of the jet, my eyes search for Ororo.
"Storm?" I call out, my brows furrowed as I search the cockpit. When I don't see her, I shrug. She must be grabbing something.
In the mean time, I stash the duffle into an overhead compartment. Just as I step back from doing so, an air-capturing presence enters the jet.
"You've got to be shitting me."
My heart hits the actual floor and I drop my head.
"This isn't happening," I mutter to myself before turning to see Logan standing in the entrance of the jet.
Like I predicted, he hasn't talked to me since the dinner incident. He'd barely stay in the same room as me, so seeing him sends an unwelcome bolt of joy through my soul. My stupid, traitorous heart flips in my chest at the sight of him.
"What are you doing here?" I ask.
"I could ask you the same thing," He grits out, setting down a duffle that matches the one I made, "I'm covering for Jean."
Everything suddenly snaps into focus. I blow out a breath, shaking my head.
"That little traitor," I grumble, before looking at a confused and aggravated Logan, "I'm covering for Jean too."
The realization hits him at the same time and he shakes his head. He turns to exit the open hatch of the jet, eager to get as far away from me as fast as possible.
I'd be lying if I said it didn't make a sudden shot of hurt explode in my chest.
"Fuck this," Logan mutters, but before he can leave, the door to the jet shuts. He stumbles back, a confused look overtaking his features.
"What the-"
That's when the engine revs to life.
I jog over to the empty cockpit to see the controls lighting up and the auto-pilot system taking over. Before either of us can do anything, since neither of us know how to fly, the jet is pulling out of the hanger and lifting into the sky to God knows where. I step back, shaking my head and looking over to where Logan has stepped up beside me. We share a knowing look.
"Storm." We say in sync. As if on cue, a voice radios in from the controls.
"Come in lovebirds, do you copy?" Storms amused voice announces. I grit my jaw and lean forward to respond.
"Storm, take us down or I swear-"
"No can do, you two need some bonding time." That was another voice, the Professor's voice. Shock crashes over me.
"Professor, you too?" Logan sputters.
"You two will learn to behave at the very least. Hopefully being stuck together will help the team spirit." He responds.
"Stuck together?" I question, my brows furrowing in confusion, "But the mission said that-"
"Oh there's no mission. The jet's set to fly a round trip for the night." Jean pipes in.
"Like hell it is! Bring us down right now!" Logan growls out, and I almost laugh at the bit of fear in his eyes. He's always been uncomfortable flying and I've always made fun of him for it. It's at least of some consolation to know this is how we're stuck together.
"I'm sorry, you're breaking up. What was that?" Storm asks, amusement lacing her tone.
"Ororo-" I start.
"I can't...must be...signal's going..."
Anyone could tell she's faking it.
"When I get back, you're all spending the weekend as cockroaches!" I call out.
"Have fun!" Jean and Storm call back before the line cuts out.
Logan begins muttering to himself before settling down in the pilot's chair and fiddling with random buttons. My eyes widen suddenly and I lurch forward, grabbing his arm.
"What the hell are you doing? Trying to get us killed? Neither of us know how to work this thing!" I object. He shakes off my touch and stands, towering over me and making me stumble back a few steps. He matches me for every one until I finally find my ground.
"There's no way in hell I'm staying trapped up here with you," Logan spits, and yet again my stupid heart flinches at the low blow.
I must flinch slightly in reaction as well, because some of the anger drains from Logan's face, being replaced with something I can't quite place. He sighs, cursing himself before taking a step closer to me.
"Y/N, I didn't mean it like-"
"No, it's fine." I cut him off, giving him a curt smile and cursing myself for not being able to hide the hurt. I take a few steps back and turn, walking into the belly of the jet, "Let's just get through this night."
I can practically feel Logan's unspoken words hanging in the air before I hear him sigh and mumble something to himself. I drop down into one of the chairs in the back, propping my feet up on the empty chair next to me and letting my eyes slip closed. I so desperately want to be able to sleep the night away to avoid any more interactions with Logan that can break my heart open and reveal the feelings I've denied for months. As I sit with my eyes shut, though, time passes and I can't seem to find sleep.
Maybe it has something to do with the domineering presence in the chair across from mine.
I can feel his gaze burning into me without even opening my eyes, can feel the way he wants to break the tense silence that settles over the cabin of the jet. The air is so thickly charged that I think for a moment that one spark could set the jet on fire. When I finally have had so much of the silence that I can barely take it anymore, I let out a sigh.
"Why do you do that?" I ask, my eyes still shut. The silence turns still.
"Do what?" He grumbles back. I drop my feet from the seat and open my eyes, turning forward so we face each other in the cabin.
"Every time I start to think we can be friends, you shut down. You ignore me and whenever you do talk to me you're as cold as ice with a temper that could make Hell freeze over." I don't hold back, so fed up with the same cyclic behavior from the last few years of knowing Logan.
"Y/N," Logan starts, then goes silent for a long while. Finally, his almost...tortured gaze meets mine, "We can't be friends. We'll never be friends."
I thought what he'd said before hurt, but that was a scrape compared to the knife he just shoved in my heart and twisted. I clench my jaw to keep from visibly recoiling again at the blow.
It's getting too much. It's all getting too much. The tension, the attraction, the long silences and bursts of charisma that make me want to crawl into his arms and stay forever. I can't take how off and on he is with me, I just can't. Not when I'm beginning to realize that I want him so desperately and not just physically or not just when he's in a good mood. I want every part of him because he makes me feel like I'm someone, because I feel like I was asleep until I met him. And to see the way he can so blatantly disregard me and shut down with me and say that...say that we can't even be friends?
It's too much. I can't take it.
My emotions bubble over and I make a small, tortured sound before shoving to my feet and storming to the back of the jet. I make sure to keep my back firmly to him to hide the angry and heartbroken tears that begin to well up from his keen eyes, but there's no mistaking my sharp intake of breath and shuddering shoulders.
"Y/N," his voice is like a poisonous honey, killing me slowly and soothing my very soul as it breaks me, "Y/N, just talk to me."
I let out a humorless laugh and whirl around to see him on his feet and walking over. When he sees the tears in my eyes and my emotions painted clearly, I know I can't hide from him. He freezes in his step, his hazel eyes like burning fires and every muscle in his body tensed as if he were holding them taut to keep him from doing something.
"No, don't-" I cut myself off in time to shove down the sob that wants to shudder through me, "You have no right. You have no right to keep pulling me in and-and shoving me away. I can't take it anymore, I can't"
The tension has finally reached its snapping point and I'm breaking first, I don't even care anymore. His face is impossible to read and it burns because I can't exactly storm away from him when we're tens of thousands of feet in the sky.
"Sweetheart, listen I-"
That's my breaking point.
"No, don't you dare 'sweetheart' me," I grit out, not even bothering to stop the burning hot tears that race down my cheeks, "God, you don't even get it, do you?"
Logan's face is one of pure shock and pain—pain for what, I can't place. What I can see is the way his large hands keep flexing and unflexing, almost as if he's using every muscle to keep from walking up to me. His jaw is clenched so tight that I'm surprised his teeth don't crack. I dig my hands into my hair and groan in frustration before dropping them back down to my sides. I don't even give him a chance to respond.
"Every time you mess with me, every time you speak to me, every time you're even near me, Logan you are pushing me further and further down a very steep cliff and I can't stop it, I have tried." I take a gasping breath, not even caring that I'm baring every feeling to him that I haven't even processed with myself yet, "And you keep ignoring me and saying we can't be friends and then the next thing I know you're messing with me again and-"
"I'm not trying to hurt you, sweet-" He stops himself briefly, changing the word he was going to use, "Y/N. You just have to understand-"
"You are breaking me, Logan!" I shout, my vision blurring from the unbridled tears, "I am falling in love with you and you are breaking me!"
He goes as silent as death before me, everything within him going still. I don't seem to notice, and even if I did, I wouldn't care. I'm halfway past shattering and I can barely control myself. Years of pent up emotion is spilling out, and damn it I'm going turn all of my friends back at the Mansion into worms.
"What did you just say?" His voice is no more than a whisper, but I'm not listening.
"Let me hate you," I beg, my voice beseeching for mercy and my fists itching to slam into his stupid, perfect face, "Please, why can't I hate you?"
That's when Logan breaks.
"Fuck it all," he suddenly growls, making my breath hiccup and my gaze snap up to him. My stomach flips sharply when I see him storming up to me so suddenly that I can't even back up.
"Logan, what-"
"Shut up." He orders, and he reaches me in seconds.
The moment he does, one of his hands cups my face and the other snakes around my waist, tugging me so close to him that I can feel every ridge and curve of his muscles. I barely have time to breathe when he tilts my head up with his hand and crashes his lips to mine.
Instantly I'm on fire.
I can't stop the small moan that leaves my lips, swallowed by his as he kisses me so desperately and passionately that my knees would buckle if it weren't for his iron grip on my waist. He bites my bottom lip softly and uses the gasp I let out to deepen the kiss. Every fiber of me is trembling and my body is on fire. Everywhere he touches me is pure desire and lightning and passion and I can barely catch my breath. He must feel the same because he reluctantly pulls away, leaving us both panting in the silence.
My lips are swollen and my body shaking, leaving me holding on to Logan desperately to ground myself to this instant, to convince myself that was real. The charge is too strong, and like opposite ends of a magnet our lips end up together again. This time, he pulls back just enough so our lips are still touching.
"I'm so sorry," He breathes against my lips, sealing the apology with a quick kiss, "I'm so sorry."
I pull away, capturing his face in my hands and staring at him with furrowed, confused brows. My unspoken desire for an explanation is clearly picked up, and he shakes his head, moving both of his hands to my waist. Where his hands hold me burns in the best way, in a way that makes me never want to pull away.
"Everyone I have ever cared for, everyone I have ever let myself love, has been taken from me," Logan whispers brokenly, and I stop breathing. I don't dare to believe what his words spell out so clearly, but instead let him keep talking as if to prove me wrong.
He doesn't.
"That's why I kept shoving you away, that's why we could never be friends. Because if we were, I could never live with just being friends with you"
"Logan, what are you saying?" I whisper, my eyes wide and my heart racing so fast that I actually fear it might give out on me. His nose nudges mine before he pulls back, letting his eyes burn into mine so I can see the truth in them, the meaning and the sincerity.
"Y/N, I have been in love with you since the moment I met you."
This time, my knees do buckle briefly. Thankfully, his arms around my waist hold me until I manage to hold my own weight again.
"You-you love me?"
A sweet smile that I want to take a picture of and hold close forever spreads onto his lips.
"Always."
I pull him down so our lips meet again, and for the first time in months my soul is at peace. What's been devouring me slowly finally stops as everything makes perfect sense. When I pull away, I lean my forehead against his.
"You're not gonna lose me." I vow, then pull back to raise an eyebrow at him, "But if you ever shove me away out of fear of losing me again, I will turn you into a cat and keep you as the kids' class pet."
A genuine, heart-healing laugh erupts from him, lighting up Logan's face in a way that makes me fall in love all over again. We just stay like that for a moment, his arms around my waist and mine back around his neck, our bodies molded together and our breath mingling.
"You think they're watching a live feed of this right now?" I ask, not pulling away an inch.
The radio crackles back to life and Storm's voice fills the jet, "That would be an affirmative, love birds. Mission Wedding Bells is a success."
We both chuckle, and Logan turns his head towards the direction of the cockpit, where the camera probably is. With all the gentlemanliness he can muster, he unsheathes only his middle claw, flipping the entire team out. I laugh dropping my head onto his chest.
He cups my face and turns it up to face him, cocking an eyebrow at me, "What?"
It only makes me laugh harder and his body rumbles with laughter against mine, "Come here, sweetheart."
He slings an arm across my shoulders and walks me back to the cockpit. As we do, I think of that first moment we met. An amused smile tugs at my lips and I shake my head slightly.
"What are you smiling about?" Logan asks. I look up at him, amusement dancing among my features.
"When you saw me turn that creep paparazzi in the front lawn into a pigeon, that's when you fell in love with me?"
He chuckles, kissing my cheek and making me wonder if this is what bliss is.
"I took one look at you scolding him and then tending to the kids like a mother and knew I was in trouble."
I laugh, leaning into his side, "You realize we have to let the Professor tell us 'I told you so', right?"
"Over my dead body," Logan stiffens, his words final. I snort.
"Good thing you can't die."
And for the first time since I met Logan, my traitorous, knowing heart was settled.
Summary: With Bucky Barnes, the mafia lord of New York, as your boyfriend, you're usually safe from any and all harm. With a date night gone wrong and your boyfriend distracted, though, anything can happen in the blink of an eye.
A/N: Another one of my favorites because come on, who doesn't love mob Bucky? If you couldn't tell by now, angst is my thing lol, but I'm working on some fluffier oneshots! True to my word, this one's a reader insert for all you lovelies, enjoy and as always keep dreaming 🤍
Warnings: mafia!Bucky, violence, angst, kidnapping, drugging, language, mentions of torture, fluffy ending because I just can't help myself.
Word Count: 5,896
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I knew the dangers when I started. I knew the risks. I welcomed them, I embraced them. They did not scare me and they haven't even now, so many months later.
We always seem to think we know ourselves so well, that we know what we'd do in every situation. I thought I knew.
Then I fell in love.
When you're in love, well, everything changes. For the first time, there's another person that you cannot live without. For the first time, you begin to realize just how far you'd go to keep that love, to strengthen it. I used to avoid love, used to think it was worthless.
Then I met Bucky Barnes, Wolf of the North and mafia lord of New York, and I fell harder than I ever have before.
I love him more than anything else in my life, and so I took on the risks willingly. When you love someone that deeply, that ardently, nothing is a risk. Besides, I knew that he would do everything in his power to protect me. Bucky would never let anything bad happen to me.
That's where I went wrong. Not in overestimating him, but underrating what can happen in the blink of an eye.
"Bucky, I think that guy's following us"
He acts as though he's heard me, but his eyes are glued to the phone in his hand as we weave through the crowds in the New York night. He never usually ignores me like this, and even though I'm growing annoyed, I'm hurt by his lack of attention too.
"We'll be fine, even if he is he wouldn't be stupid enough to try anything" Bucky brushes off, not even looking up from his phone. I let out a small huff as we approach the front of the bar and nightclub he owns.
Before we make it to the doors, I grab his well-muscled arm and gently tug him to face me. He looks up now, his usually softened ice blue eyes plagued with business and stress.
"I thought tonight was just for us, my love" I remind. Something softens in his gaze but he ices it down and doesn't as much as touch me.
"It is, but I have some business to attend to first" his gravelly voice replies.
"Business?" I ask, lifting an eyebrow and smiling softly at him, "You can get business any night, but I-"
"Just give me ten minutes, Y/N." my boyfriend interrupts, and if it were any other day I'd say something back. Too exhausted from work to want an argument, though, I simply sigh and decide to show him patience.
"Alright, you have 10 minutes."
We walk inside, but before we do I cast one more glance back towards the man who I saw following us. My heart hits the floor when my eyes connect directly with his across the street. His mousy brown hair and disheveled brown leather jacket and white shirt set me on edge, so I quickly turn around and follow Bucky into his club.
As soon as I'm back by his side, he presses a gentle but burning hand to my back, his touch, however small, still intoxicating me after all this time. Normally, he'd lean over and whisper sweet nothings or promises of love in my ear and I'd shiver at the whisper of his voice so near, but now he barely even touches me. His mind is so preoccupied with work, I know that, but it has been all week since this weekend is his rival's gala.
But I feel ignored and unappreciated and it's killing me.
The pounding music of the club wraps around me, making it harder to keep my thoughts straight. Bucky and I walk straight to the back of the club, where his business no doubt waits. He pulls away from me without so much as a goodbye, and my heart tugs. Quickly I grab his hand, making him glance at me.
"Bucky, this guy is really freaking me out," I repeat, and I know he said I'll be fine but I need him to be here with me, "Please, stay with me."
"Doll, you're gonna be fine. Now-"
I cut him off, getting frustrated.
"No Bucky! I can fight, sure, but if he-" I interrupt, only for him to cut me right back off.
"Drop it, Y/N. Just go to the bar or something" Bucky growls, pulling out of my grip and walking into the office without a single glance back at me.
My heart cracks.
He's never like this, ever. He's usually so protective it's overbearing, and yet the one time I need that to feel secure, he refuses. I can take care of myself, but I'm not stupid. And no matter how capable and independent I may be, Bucky brings a level of safety to me that I can't describe.
And yet here he is, leaving me alone in his bar with someone following us.
I huff out a sigh and try not to look too forlorn as I traipse over to the bar. Almost as soon as I've arrived and sat at an open bar stool, the bartender who has become somewhat of a friend over the last few months approaches me.
"And how is my favorite customer?" He asks, his hands busy preparing a drink. I shrug, offering him a soft smile.
"I'm alright, Lee," I respond, playing with the edge of my sleeve, "Just a whiskey please."
"Sure thing, Y/N," Lee says, his brows furrowed as he steps away to make my drink. When the glass slides in front of me, I grab onto it with tired fingers.
"So, do you want me to ask what's really going on or do you want me to believe the lie?" The bartender asks, making me raise my gaze from the amber liquid and to my friend's face. He must see the tears gathering in my eyes because a hint of concern grows. I never break like this.
"Believe the lie, please" I nearly whisper, desperate to not have this conversation right now. Lee stares at me for a second longer before nodding.
"Let me know if you need anything else."
When he walks away to take care of another customer, I'm left feeling alone and forgotten in my boyfriend's bar. I sip on the alcohol and seconds turn to minutes, and ten minutes soon becomes twenty. I feel patience slipping and am seconds away from barging into that room and giving my boyfriend a piece of my mind when another voice pipes up beside me.
"I thought tonight was date night," The voice says, and I can't put a face to it. When I turn, the haze of alcohol clears instantly and my spine snaps straight. The music dulls into a hum. The lights grow darker. The color leeches from my body. My hand trembles around the almost empty glass.
It's him. He's got the same messy hair, the same brown jacket. The same hungry eyes.
Instantly, I clamp down hard on my rising panic. I refuse to fall into hysterics of any kind right now. This is the safest place for me to be right now, so I should have nothing to worry about. Instead, I simply shake my head and turn forward, downing the last of my second whiskey.
"You're another kind of stupid if you think anything is going to happen to me in here," I inform, my tone even and calm despite the throbbing, tearing panic within me that makes me want to sprint for Bucky.
"Oh sweetheart, I'm not going to do anything," the man responds, his tone just as even as mine.
I furrow my brows at the ease of his response, but all at once it hits me. My head begins to spin and with each second that passes, my mind begins to fog. No. No. No.
He drugged me.
How did he get it into my drink?
How did I not see it? Smell it? Taste it?
I shove out of my chair so fast that the stool screeches against the hard floor. The sound is absorbed into the mass of the club, though, and an arm snakes around my waist.
"No," I manage out, but the connection between my body and brain seems to be almost severed. The words come out sluggish and far away and when I try to pull from the stalker's hold, my body barely moves.
Instead, I'm left stumbling like I'm drunk with this man guiding me towards the exit as if he's helping me to a cab. The bouncers. Ed and Damien, they won't let him take me. They'll stop him, they'll get him away from me.
"Don't make a scene, Y/N. Your boyfriend isn't even out of his office." My kidnapper's voice slithers into my ear, making my stomach church with nausea.
My boyfriend. Bucky. Oh God, where is Bucky? Why can't I seem to remember where Bucky went? Why he's not here? Why I was alone?
"Bucky, Bucky's gonna-" I slur out, sounding absolutely wasted to the unknowing ear.
"I know, Mr. Barnes going to be so glad I got you home safely," he says suddenly, his entire body shifting tone. I furrow my brows and manage to look and see us just passing Ed and Damien at the door. Even though I can really see straight, I see the two bouncers block the exit when they see me.
"Hey man, what's going on?" I hear Ed ask.
"Nothing much to see, Boss just wanted me to take his lady home," the stalker says, his grip on me tighter than it must appear, "She had a little too much to drink."
Too much to drink? Did I? Why can't I remember what's happening? I didn't think I did but...but maybe I did. Who is this man? He said he's taking me home, maybe Bucky had to cancel date night. It was date night, right?
Both Ed and Damien furrow their brows and look to me, immediate concern drawing on their features when they see the state of me. Some lucid part of me screams to alert them of something, anything, but the thought doesn't come to fruition. It dies somewhere along a neuron and leaves me tripping over my own feet and speechless.
"I've never seen you before, man. How do we know that boss told you to take her home?" Damien asks. My escort doesn't miss a step.
"The Wolf is in states nowadays, isn't he boys?" The stalker replies, and that lucid part sparks up again in protest at the familiar words. That's the code phrase to ensure safety in moments like this.
He knows the code phrase.
They're going to let him take me.
I do what I can to struggle as Ed and Damien step aside, but it only comes across as trying to walk on my own, because the bouncers chuckle slightly.
"Relax Y/N, don't overdo it" Ed quips.
"Rest up, miss. I'll let boss know you got home safely." Damien follows up.
And the lucid part of me fades into the drug haze as my kidnapper guides me out of the safest place on earth without so much of a gun fight. The cool night air slaps me in the face and I whisper, trying to struggle again only to forget why I'm struggling in the first place. My body feels like I'm running through neck-high mud, anyways. Any sharp movements I try to make end in my hands barely moving.
"Bucky," I breathe, an urgency in that word. Beyond the haze and the forgetfulness and the confusion, there's a deep and piercing need to scream out that name. I can't figure out why, but I need him. I can't...I need...
My head's spinning, or maybe it's the world. My stomach is twisting and turning and twisting and turning and tw-
"He can't save you now. He didn't even put up a fight to protect you," that ugly, slimy voice says as a car door opens, "What a shame. A treasure like you should be guarded. But I guess finder's keeper's."
Then I'm shoved into a car and everything goes black.
|||
James Buchanan Barnes
Y/N's going to actually kill me. As in my liver on a plate kill me.
The meeting that I promised would only be ten minutes has now gone for forty, and by now she's probably restless, hungry, and a little tipsy.
Great, and I pissed her off earlier so tonight is going to be so much fun.
I pull a hand through my dark hair with a slight groan as the man I was doing business with finally leaves my office. I sit for a second in the semi-quiet of my room, the pounding of music and laughter dulled by the walls. I know I shouldn't have gotten short with her earlier, but damn she wouldn't let up on me with the whole "stalker" thing.
My club is the safest place for her. I would never let anything happen to her, so for her to even think that...I sigh again, shoving it from my mind. It doesn't matter anymore. All that matters is finding my girlfriend and making all of this shit up to her. I rise from my leather chair and walk out of my office, the dulled sounds roaring into full force.
My eyes immediately shoot towards the bar to find my girl only to see an absence of her. With furrowed brows, I sweep my gaze towards the dance floor. Even crowded with people, I don't see her. I roll my eyes instantly, knowing what probably happened. She probably went home, probably's pissed as hell at me. I brush off my suit jacket and walk up to Lee at the bar, immediately garnering his attention. He smiles at me.
"Hey boss, can I get you anything?" He asks.
"No I'm good, thanks Lee," I respond, leaning on the bar with one arm and pinching the bridge of my nose, "Have you seen Y/N? I think I pissed her off."
There's a pause that makes me look over at my bartender. He's looking at me weirdly as he slides a drink to a customer and laughs slightly.
"Real funny, boss," Lee says, cleaning out a few glasses. I straighten up slightly, my brows furrowing deeper and my jaw setting.
"What's so funny, Lee? Have you seen her or not?" I ask, quickly losing my patience. I always thought he had a thing for her, always was too-
"Are you fucking with me right now?" Lee asks genuinely, cutting off my thoughts. When I don't respond, he realizes I'm not joking and his face goes grave, "So you didn't send her home twenty minutes ago?"
The world tilts around me and every ounce of anger, annoyance, and frustration leaves me in an instant. My heart drops like an anchor at sea and I don't dare to believe what Lee's words mean.
"She left twenty minutes ago," I begin slowly, trying desperately to hold myself together and not jump to a conclusion, "With someone who said I sent them to take her home."
Lee's face is slowly falling as he realizes the situation at hand. I feel so sick to my stomach that I can barely stand when Lee gives a faint nod. My world stops and then starts and then stops again.
"I never gave that order." I breathe.
"Bucky, I think that guy's following us"
I brushed her off.
"Bucky, this guy is really freaking me out. Please, stay with me."
I ignored her. I snapped at her. I prioritized work over the light of my life. I told her she'd be fine.
I left her.
Lee is saying something to me but I don't hear it as I shove away and storm over to Ed and Damien, my bouncers. My face is a painting of fury and shame and worry and panic and it's a storm that catches Ed and Damien's attention. They stop what they're doing and look to me, their brows furrowing.
"Boss, what's-"
"You let her leave?" I strangle out, my heart slamming in my chest and my fists balled by my sides, "You let a stranger take her away?"
The two share a confused glance before looking back to me.
"A stranger? Boss, the man who took Y/N home knew the code," Ed informs.
"Did you not send him?" Damien suddenly asks, his face tightening in instant panic.
He knew the code. He knew the code and he somehow got my doll, my fighter, out without so much of a warning.
And it's all my fault.
"Shut the club down, get everyone out. Call together all of our forces. Tell them-" My voice breaks, raw emotion clawing up my throat, "Tell them Y/N's been taken."
I don't wait for a response and shove out into the cold night, gasping for air like a fish out of water. I was so obsessed with the gala this week that Hydra, our arch nemesis, was putting on, that I stopped paying attention to the only part of my life that matters. I have a lot of things, all of which I could live without, but I cannot live without her.
And I left her.
I left her and now she's gone.
She tried to warn me, she tried to tell me someone was following us. She tried to get me to stay with her, to not leave her. And yet I walked away. I just walked away like she didn't even matter and I left vulnerable and alone the only person in this entire fucking universe I love. It's all my fault, and I'll spend every second of the rest of my life trying to make it up to her.
If I can even find her in time, before she-
No. I will find her and she will live. I will burn down this whole damn world if I have to, and I will not stop. Not until every person who laid a finger on my girl is dead. I will paint the world crimson with their blood until I find her, and once I do I will never, never, ignore or leave her again.
That's not a threat. It's a promise.
|||
Your POV
The collar secured to my throat is too tight, the metal no doubt leaving red grooves in my skin.
It hurts worse when Alexander Pierce, the mafia lord of Hydra, tugs the matching chain leash attached to it, pulling me closer to him and almost making me stumble mid-step.
The gala is glamorous, and my gown is nothing short of it as well. Pierce even went through the trouble of having someone do my hair. What he didn't do was my makeup.
That way anyone could see the dried blood and bruises littering my skin.
It's a scare tactic, I know that. A way to signal to everyone here that he's in charge and that he can't be defied. But I think he's got a bigger reason in mind for it all, the collar and the hideous marks on my skin.
And that reason is my boyfriend.
I can practically feel people's eyes follow me as I walk as steadily as I can at the end of Pierce's leash. Despite the radiating, excruciating pain that each step incurs, I keep my body steady and my chin high. I let the policemen and officials that are on his payroll and all of the members of his mafia see my bruises and cuts. He's parading me, so I'm going to put on a damn show.
A show to hide how mind-numbingly terrified I am right now.
Behind my set jaw and my cold eyes, I'm fighting back tears. The pain is mixing with the fear of the last few days to make a perfect storm within me. I'm terrified that any moment could be my last, that more pain could await me, that Bucky might never come for me
Or worse. That he doesn't even care.
Regardless of whether or not he cares, I'm still not going to give a single detail out. Even when Pierce himself tortured me until all I knew was blood and pain and fear, I said nothing. He didn't get a single word out of me. I just sat there, strapped to an iron chair, and took it. Every blow, every slice, every shout. At times my mind spared me and allowed me to slip into the sweet nothingness of unconsciousness, but it wouldn't be long after that I awoke to my head shoved into cold water to revive me.
And here I am, now taking a seat at the Dias of his gala room beside the mafia lord of Hydra, my boyfriend's sworn rival, with a collar around my neck tied to his wrist.
The music that wafts from the live orchestra is disturbingly jovial and light, filling the air with a sense of peace that provides such a stark juxtaposition to my insides that I almost puke. I sit ever so stiffly in my chair beside Pierce, my back burning with each movement because of the new stripes across its tender flesh.
As I feel warm liquid slide down my skin, I suddenly understand why Pierce insisted my dress be a dark maroon. I thought it was as at first just a beacon to everyone to show who I was with because it was his signature color, but I know better now. It's to hide the blood that seeps from my still-healing and probably infected wounds.
"Exquisite, isn't it?" Pierce asks, and I don't even have to turn towards him to know he wears a devilish smirk. A cruel man's trademark of victory.
I stay silent.
I hear him click his tongue as he sits back in his ornate chair, "All this quality time together and all I've heard from your voice has been your screams. No matter how pretty they are, doesn't seem polite to me."
This time, I can't hold myself back.
"Neither is kidnapping another human being and treating them like a prisoner of war," I announce, my voice raw and hoarse from the screaming and shouting of the past few days, "So pardon me if I'm not feeling too polite."
It's a bold move, but I make it anyways, gambling that he wouldn't lash out in the midst of his party. A little breath of relief escapes me when he chuckles.
"And here I was under the impression you were a sweet, soft-spoken sort of woman. My sources misjudged you." Pierce responds.
Of course he's been watching me. A scheme like this doesn't happen overnight. He's been planning this for a while, now. Pierce knew exactly when Bucky would be most vulnerable, when the defenses would be the loosest. It makes me want to scream.
"You're going to die for this," I whisper, quietly but not softly. There's his laugh again.
"Oh honey," Pierce starts, his voice condescending as if I were a toddler, "Careful with blind faith. What makes you so sure Barnes will make it out of this alive?"
His words unsettle something so deep within me that if I spend more than a few seconds touching on it, I'll shatter. Instead, I turn to look at Alexander Pierce for the first time since we've sat down. My eyes are cold and harsh upon him and the shining metal of the collar that tethers us.
"What makes you so sure it will be Bucky who kills you?"
He has the good sense to look the slightest bit unnerved, and I give him a smirk of my own, "Like you said before, your men sorely misjudged me."
Before he can respond, one of the guards that stands behind us steps forward and whispers something in the mafia lord's ear. Whatever he says makes Pierce grin fiercely as he looks back to me and gives the collar a tug.
"Your White Wolf is here."
My heart jumps so hard that I forget how to function. For a moment, everything else fades and dims away, even the biting pain wrapping me like a blanket of thorns. I snap my head back forward and when I see him I swear I almost break right then and there.
Because his eyes are already on me, and they're coated with fury.
It takes every ounce of strength I have to not dissolve into tears, to not let my fear show.
He's here.
He's here.
Bucky found me.
When our eyes meet, something so primal and raw ignites in his features. He looks seconds away from shattering as his chest heaves, his eyes scouring every inch of me. I feel undone before him, as if the dress doesn't hide a single thing that Pierce and his men have done to me.
"James Barnes," Pierce announces, snapping the connection between us swiftly, "I thought you'd never come. I hope you don't mind, I think I've stolen your date for the evening."
Then he wraps his palm around the chain leash and yanks it so hard that I nearly tumble out of the chair. His hand is there to stop me as it grabs my jaw in a bruising grip. Pierce hums, turning my face side to side before forcing it forward to the crowd that now watches. Bucky is painted with dark rage and looks seconds away from ending Pierce's life.
"She makes quite the pretty pet."
Bucky begins to storm forward only for two of the guests who belong to Pierce's mafia to grip onto his arms and prevent him.
"Take your fucking hand off of her, Pierce, or I swear I'll-" Bucky growls, and hearing his voice is enough to ease some of the knot that's wound in my chest these last few days.
"You'll what?" Alexander asks, releasing my chin but remaining ever so calmly in his seat beside me, "You must not care that much for my pet, after all you were the one to ignore her."
There's a bone-crushing silence and I see that same something shatter in my love's gaze.
"You shoved her off, you left her alone," Alexander cuts out, reaching out and running a hand through my hair, "You so carelessly let her slip through your fingers and here you are pretending to care."
"What I did was unforgivable, I know that," Bucky says suddenly, and I see even from here the silver lining his eyes as he speaks, "But she is a good person. She doesn't deserve this. If you need to punish someone, don't let it be her."
"You don't deserve her," Pierce says, and I want to scream that he's wrong but Bucky cuts me off. His eyes clash with mine and I fall in love all over again.
"I know," he says so softly that I almost miss it. I try to shake my head 'no', but Pierce tightens the collar, making me whimper.
Bucky shoves off the two men holding him, composing himself and standing stiffly a good ways before us.
"Let her go, Pierce," Bucky reiterates, his tone harsh once more and his stare pure murder, "I won't ask again."
Pierce clicks his tongue beside me, letting up on my leash to let me relax slightly.
"Oh Barnes, did you really waltz in here thinking you'd walk back out?"
There's a deadly silence and I swear you can hear my heart smash into the floor even though I expected this. With every second between his last words and his next, I grow more panicked.
"I have you surrounded, Barnes. You're not getting out of this," Pierce announces. Bucky doesn't look the least bit unnerved, though.
Pierce reaches you to an ear piece I didn't know was there and touches it, "Guns at attention."
From my spot next to him, all I hear is static. There's no response coming back, and the confusion becomes evident on Alexander's face at the same moment I realize what's going on. Hope like a new sunrise breaks in me and I look over at Bucky to find him smirking. He winks at me once before furrowing his brows at Pierce.
"What's wrong, can't reach your men?" Bucky taunts.
And then all Hell breaks loose.
Guns are firing and people are screaming and within seconds, Bucky's mafia that's already infiltrated the gala hall appears from the woodwork, their guns raised and keeping the few mafia members left under gun point. Bucky just stands coolly in the midst as another deadly silence blankets the room. I can practically feel the rage draining off of Alexander.
"Get him!" Pierce suddenly shouts, and what few men are left charge at Bucky. Including the personal guards around us. The gunfire begins again, and the classy event is soon painted crimson.
I take the brief moment of chaos to my advantage and shoot up from my seat. As soon as Pierce registers that I'm moving, it's too late. Despite the screaming of my body, I sprint behind Pierce's chair and brace one heeled foot at its back. Then, before he can reach for a gun, I wrap the leash he's collared me with around his neck and pull back, strangling him with the own device he subjected me under.
His hands claw desperately at the chain and I feel my exhausted muscles trembling, but I refuse to let up. I keep holding the chain tighter and snap my gaze up in Bucky's direction just in time to see him shoot a guard between the eyes.
"Bucky!" I shout, gaining his attention instantly.
I know I can't hold Pierce off much longer, so Bucky will need to help me take him down while I've got him strangled to the chair. The metal is cutting deep into his skin when Bucky begins fighting desperately to reach us. Before he can, though, Pierce gets a purchase on the chain and yanks with such force that it sends my body flying over him and the chair. I land flat on my back so hard on the tile that the air rushes out of my lungs and every cut and tear rips open.
"Y/N!" Bucky roars, and it rattles my very bones
I gasp and groan in pain simultaneously, desperately trying to get air into my lungs. The second I can breathe again, Pierce is dragging me backwards by the chain.
"No!" I shout, reaching up and gripping the chain before yanking it.
We tug back and forth as he drags me, but I manage to hook my foot around one of the overturned chairs and use the leverage to yank the chain so hard that I hear a snap followed by a shrill yell.
I just broke his wrist.
When I pull again, the chain comes free and a weight lifts from my shoulders. I scramble to my feet, about to sprint away and towards where I last saw Bucky when Pierce's hands grip my shoulders and rip me back. I don't even have time to scream when my back is slammed into a hard wall and Pierce is before me, a knife in his unmangled hand that's pressed to my cheek.
"You little bitch" he seethes.
My chest is heaving with breath and panic as I read back and spit in his face as hard as I can. He recoils slightly and I relish in it. My happiness only lasts a second, though, because his knife is pressing into my cheek. I try to squirm but his body is pressed firmly to mine and pins me to the wall.
"I so didn't want to end you this quickly," Pierce whispers, his voice slithering against my skin.
I keep trying to be strong, to be so strong, but it's getting harder to keep up. I try to not show my fear, but it's getting harder and harder to hide. I feel myself finally breaking after the hell that these last few days have been and just when I think he's going to end it all, he's gone. In a moment, he's off of me and unconscious on the ground.
And Bucky is standing before me, his chest heaving and his eyes wild.
"Bucky," I breathe, already feeling my strength slip away.
I don't have to be strong anymore.
Bucky drops the gun he just rendered Pierce unconscious with, every inch of his face softening upon my bloody, trembling form. He looks a minute away from crying when I stumble forward and crash into him, letting myself break down in his arms that already wrap around my waist and keep me upright. He keeps me so tight to himself that there is no room between us. I bury my face into his neck and let out a sob, my tears mixing with the blood on his suit. I can't tell which of us is shaking harder, but all I can tell is the warmth and security that Bucky's hands bring me.
"Oh doll," Bucky whispers, sending a shiver down my spine, "You're alive. You're alive."
I mumble some sort of affirmation, but I can barely think straight.
"I'm so sorry, doll. I'm so sorry." Bucky repeats it over and over again, "God, Y/N I'm so sorry."
"It's okay, Buck. It's alright," I whisper, but he keeps shaking his head. He pulls back far enough to meet my gaze.
"I've been shitty to you. I should've listened to you, I should never have left you. I am never leaving you again."
"It's okay, I forgive you," I repeat, brushing a bloody hand against his jaw, "Of course it's gonna cost you at least four new pairs of shoes."
At my joke, a laugh of pure relief to have me back in hands escapes his lips. I chuckle softly too, taking in every inch of his breathtaking face. A tear drops down his cheek and he leans his forehead against mine.
"I love you so much, I love you more than life." he breathes.
"I love you too. That's all that kept me breathing, loving you,"I respond, and his lips are on mine in an instant.
Even though it's only been a few days, kissing him feels like I've been in a drought and he's my water. The kiss is desperate and pleading and consuming. It steals whatever strength is left in my knees and I link my arms around his neck to support myself. When he finally pulls away, he leaves a trail of kisses to my nose and then my forehead before tugging me to himself again.
"I'm going to tear him apart for this," Bucky vows, and I know it shouldn't but I still let out a breath of relief at that.
"Is that why he's not dead yet?" I ask, chuckling softly. He does the same, kissing the top of my head.
"That's exactly why," Bucky agrees, pulling back and rubbing a finger along my cheek. He becomes serious again and I feel my heart flutter.
"When I found out you were gone, I lost myself." He says, his throat bobbing as he Cho's my face with his large hands, "Y/N, there is no me without you"
I turn to kiss his hand before leaning into it more.
"I'll always find my way back to you. You're all I have, James"
Another tear works down his cheek before he finally steps to the side. The gala is trashed, but the gunfire is over. Apparently, his men were here hours before anyone else got here. I feel my strength abandoning me, so I lean my weight onto Bucky. He feels this and immediately scoops me into his arms, holding me close to his chest.
"I'm going to kiss every one of these scars when we get back" His voice rumbles, and I smile as I lean my head further into him.
"Let's go home, my love"
And he held up his promise. He never left me again.
