biker!simon who, when he drives his truck to pick you up, buckles your seatbelt for you before giving your thigh a firm squeeze
biker!simon who, when he picks you up on his bike, gives your helmet a solid pat and knocks it against his
biker!simon who, during the ride, reaches back to give one of your thighs, bracketing his on the bike, the same firm squeeze
biker!simon who, when he's buried balls deep inside you, keeps one hand cradling the back of your head, keeping your foreheads pressed together, eyes locked on yours
This song has me thinking heavily about expanding this into a fuller fic, so if people end up liking it, maybe I'll go ahead and finish it further!
✧ Summary: Chris was a great friend, picking you up from work whenever you had a late shift - so, it was only fair that you wanted to repay him. ✧
✧ Word Count: 3.5k
✧ Warnings: Biker!AU, friends to ???, smut, slight dom! Chris, open ended ✧
✧ Female! Reader [No use of Y/N] | You/Your pronouns ✧
✧ Additional Tags: Reader is referred to as Baby, Good Girl, Pretty, Chris is referred to as Baby, Channie
✧ Stray Kids Masterlist ✧ General Masterlist
The streetlights came and went in intermittent strobes, passing over the two of you as his motorcycle hummed along the sparsely occupied street.
Your arms were wrapped securely around his waist just as he’d taught you, the warmth of your body against his back combating the chill of the crisp night air - he really wished he hadn’t forgotten his hoodie in his rush to pick you up.
“Are you cold?”
As if reading his mind, your voice floated through the comms of his helmet and he shook his head, “I’m alright, baby - don’t worry about me.”
Of course, you weren’t easily swayed - it was a quality he loved about you, no matter how much he preferred to be the one to look out for everyone else, you were always there to double back on him with undeterrable determination; proved by the way you leaned a little more against his back.
He wouldn’t have thought twice about your sweet gesture if it weren’t for the shifting of your arms, your hands slowly splayed against his torso.
“I always worry about you, Chris…” Your voice was soft, dripping with sweet honey as your right hand wandered its way higher, following the soft defined path of his chest underneath his shirt. “It’s hard not to, if I’m honest.”
He took a short breath, unsure if this was truly happening or if his mind was playing tricks on him and twisting your intentions to fit his deep seated desires.
That is, until your left hand carefully danced its way to his thigh, sitting nicely against the cotton of his sweatpants.
“You always do so much for everyone else- do so much for me,” your hand flexed, nails pressing lightly against his thigh, “I just wanna do something for you in return, you know?”
The bike slowed to a roll as you reached a stoplight, Chris keeping the balance with his otherwise unoccupied leg while taking the opportunity to hold onto the outside of your own thigh.
“Be careful with your words, baby - you might give me the wrong idea.”
“Are my actions not enough?” You murmured, inching your hand higher, fingertips brushing along the inseam of his sweats, “Should I do more, Channie?”
His hand left the brake clutch to wrap around your wrist, electricity flowing through your veins like a completed circuit. “You shouldn’t do this. We shouldn’t do this.”
“But I want this, I need this.”
Your hand squeezed, your voice filling his head like the intoxicating lull of a siren’s call.
“I need you.”
Green.
Chris tapped your thigh, ignoring the chill that ran down his spine when you seamlessly went back to holding onto him just like he taught you; arms around his waist, your body against his back.
The ride to his apartment felt like second nature with you - much like other things he did with you, if he were honest with himself - and the moment he pulled into his parking spot, his movements only felt more natural.
Switch engine off. Kickstand down.
Your hands slid up his back, gripping his shoulders as you eased yourself off of his motorcycle, and by the time your touch left him, Chris hopped from his seat with learned grace - his hands unbuckling and taking off his helmet in record time.
By the time your own helmet was off, cradled in your arms, his intense gaze caught your eyes, locking you in a stare off that said more than words could convey, yet their true meaning would be lost to memory with what left his lips.
“Are you sure about this?” He breathed, “Tell me right now and I’ll take you home, and we can pretend none of this happened - just, tell me.”
“Chris,” his name fluttered from your lips like butterfly wings, “I meant every word, I’m sure, I’m so sure-”
Before you knew it, his lips were on yours - the warmth of his palm settling on your cheek in a hold that dared your knees to give out from underneath you - but as fast as they’d appeared, they vanished, leaving you dazedly blinking up at deep brown eyes.
“C’mon.”
The journey up to his apartment was a blur; the melodic chime of the front door’s lock welcoming you to the final stage of your decision as he ushered you through the doorway.
Shoes haphazardly kicked off next to another pile of pairs and helmets stored on a shelf, the empty living room was graced with your presence for what felt like half a second before you were finally where you needed to be.
Chris’s room was a place you’d only been inside of a handful of times, if not to stick your head in to announce your arrival when hanging out with his roommates, then to visit whenever he had a new snippet of a song he wanted to share; there wasn’t a chance for a tour then, and there certainly wouldn’t be a tour now.
With a subtle flick of a switch, the once dark room was suddenly bathed in a dim glow from the led lights lining the ceiling - warm and welcoming, much like the arms that wrapped around you from behind, followed by a soft pair of lips you were quickly getting used to pressing against the junction of your neck and shoulder.
His hold grew tighter as his lips ventured higher - a dotted line of kisses, a brush of his breath against the back of your ear, followed by the ghost of his lips along the shell.
“Are you still sure?”
Your eyelids fluttered, your lips parting to sigh out words evoked from the fantasies of your deepest desires, “I’m yours.”
He turned you around, and for the first time you were able to truly appreciate the feeling of his lips against your own - soft, likely from the myriad of lip care products your friends tease him for, a sensation you could find yourself craving every day and never growing tired of in the end.
You kissed him back with fervor, taking the liberty of cupping the line of his jaw with one hand while the other cradled the back of his neck, the faint curls of his hair tickling your fingertips.
Chris was the first to pull away, gifting you a fleeting peck when you tried in vain to follow him, just to reach overhead and tug his shirt up and off before unceremoniously dropping it to the floor. However, he barely gave you the chance to admire the view as his hands went to help you out of your hoodie while your own hands hastily went to tug up your shirt in the messy, frantic process.
Two articles down, the warmth of his hands were now free to meet your waist and his lips were on yours once more; his hold tightening as he took a step forward, nudging and guiding you backward until the backs of your legs met the edge of his bed. Obliging to his silent request, you sat down, using the strength in your arms to wiggle yourself up enough to lay comfortably on the full sized mattress and welcome the weight of him on top of you until it wasn’t.
Looking up, you were met with his heated stare, all but devouring you with his eyes as he took in the view - though, you figured you fared the same way when your eyes ventured down, following the strong slope of his shoulders before taking in the sight of his chest.
It wasn’t a view you hadn’t seen before thanks to his aversion of shirts in his own home - granted, it was his apartment, so you couldn’t fault him for the times he’d come out of his room to see you happily chatting away with his roommates unbeknownst to him - but you could now appreciate the details you wouldn’t have taken in otherwise such as defined pectorals and the smallest beginnings of abs against his otherwise soft stomach.
Ending the unintentional standoff, Chris lent forward, his fingertips just barely grazing your lower stomach as they went to the button of your jeans, “Can I?”
“Please.”
The corner of his lips ticked up but he ducked his head before you could see the smirk blossom, though you couldn’t find yourself to care once your jeans were undone, lifting your hips to help him shuffle the garment down the length of your legs and watching him give them the same fate as your shirts.
“These too?” He mused with a teasing lilt, eyes flicking from your own to the plain black panties you wore.
A short huff brushed past your lips, an unamused pout pursuing them. “Chris.”
The sound of his delighted giggles bounced off the walls, reducing the heat of arousal to a nice simmer that your nerves greatly appreciated - that is, until his fingers hooked underneath the waistband and slowly pulled them off; the sensation of his knuckles dragging along your thighs drawing a soft gasp from you.
It wasn’t long until they were down your legs, past your feet, and dropped off the edge of the bed, leaving you entirely bare from the waist down.
“Fuck…” He breathed, propping his knee on the bed as his hands slid up from your calves to the backs of your knees, caressing your skin before gently bringing them up and out - exposing your pussy to his pure delight. “Look at you, pretty girl.”
A wave of heat washed over you followed by an embarrassed whimper, “Chris, don’t say that.”
“Why not?” Looking up, he cocked his head slightly, “You said you were mine, which means I’m allowed to compliment what’s mine, yeah?” He bent down, maintaining eye contact as he kissed your knee softly, “You belong to me, right, baby?”
Your heart jumped to your throat, his words working like a spell against your lust addled mind.
“I belong to you.” You breathed softly, melting into his hypnotizing gaze.
A pleased hum vibrated through him as he dipped his head to kiss the inside of your thigh, his lips brushing against your skin, “Good girl.”
His kisses trailed higher and higher, growing messier and messier as he went - a nip here, a suck there, open mouthed and worshiping until he reached your pussy.
Just as he was about to dive in face first, your hand tugged at his hair, effectively breaking him out of his tunnel vision to give you his undivided attention.
“What’s wrong? Do you wanna stop? I can-”
“No! God, no - it’s just…” You took a deep breath, your bravado escaping you the instant you stopped him, “I want you to eat me out, but I wanna suck your dick too. I wanna make you feel good too, Channie”
“You wanna suck my dick, pretty?” A shiver ran down Chris’s spine at the mere thought, his dick painfully straining underneath his boxer briefs and sweats. “Fuck, you’re gonna be the death of me, you know that? Words like that coming from a mouth like yours - you’re a fucking dream.”
His presence left from between your legs and part of you felt silly for missing it until you saw him reaching for his sweatpants - even through the black fabric you were able to make out the noticeable bulge tenting the front - the waistband of Calvin Klein nudging you in the right direction of what he wore underneath.
Pushing both articles past his hips, your eyes were immediately glued to the dips in his pelvis - the Adonis belt, a fitting alternate description of his v-line until your attention jumped to a scattering of hair beneath his navel leading to seemingly maintained pubic hair.
However, your peep show was obscured by his head as he bent forward to take his clothes off the rest of the way, giving you the chance to mentally prepare for the grand reveal. By the time he stood straight again, you couldn’t help the audible gasp that left you, your eyes widening as you took him in all his glory - all of the jokes his friends would make now having validity behind their digs.
“I hope that’s a good reaction…” Chris spoke sheepishly, his ears as red as a tomato as he averted his eyes to the side, one hand twitching to cover himself while the other anxiously rubbed the back of his neck.
“Chris,” your soft call was enough to bring his eyes back to you, just in time to see you undoing your bra and tossing it to the floor, “I really want you in my mouth, baby.”
The air of shyness quickly left him as he smirked, making his way back onto the bed, “Say please.”
Reaching forward, your fingers danced along the underside of his jaw before you whispered, “Please?”
It was almost instantaneous in the way you found yourself straddled over his face, his hands massaging the plush of your thighs as if he couldn’t get enough of the way they squished and jiggled under his hold.
You leaned forward, eyes eagerly taking in his dick from the new angle; he was thick, probably an inch over average if you had to guess, with the prettiest veins that begged for your tongue to trace them.
“Don’t force yourself to take me, okay?” He called from the other end, the feeling of his breath against your cunt sending chills down your spine. “I know I’m… y’know, big, so I don’t want you to hurt yourself to make me feel good - you letting me do this is more than enough, baby.”
“I can do it Channie,” spitting into your palm, you graciously took him into your hand with a slow stroke, “I’ll be okay.”
A low groan escaped him, your sudden touch sending him into the stratosphere, “Just- Be careful for me, alright?”
Humming in agreement, you wasted no time in littering his tip in butterfly kisses and kitten licks, slowly getting yourself used to the bittersweet taste of his precum.
“Shit…” Not holding himself back any longer, Chris slid his hands up to your hips before pulling you back onto his mouth, his tongue eagerly diving between your folds as if it were an ice cream cone on a hot summer’s day.
The action made you jolt forward, though you barely moved an inch thanks to his hold on you, your lips parting to let a moan float through.
“Mm, not too loud, baby,” he spoke against your pussy, kissing the hood of your clit, “don’t wanna wake up my roommates, yeah?”
As much as the idea called to something daring within you, you shook your head, using this as an opportunity to take the first few inches of his cock into your mouth; just enough to have the weight settle on your tongue while your hand stroked what you hadn’t gotten to yet.
“There you go.”
With that, he went back to exploring your pussy with his tongue, dipping past your walls every now and then before going back to dancing around your clit - his hands enjoying their new home on the curve of your ass.
To say the feeling of his mouth on you was mind numbing would’ve been the understatement of a lifetime - it was as if he was eating you out in the most respectfully disrespectful way, the sounds of his lips sucking your clit paired with low, breathless moans before he went back to lapping up your arousal was pure debauchery.
You tried your best to be diligent, bobbing your head in time with the curls of his tongue against your slit while your fist used whatever drool that dripped from your lips as lubricant to keep each stroke smooth and slick - your efforts not going in vain by the way his thigh would flex, or the twitch of his hips - but you were quickly falling victim to the pleasure.
“Taste so fucking good, baby,” he mouthed against your pussy, as if moving even an inch away would be detrimental to his psyche, “could stay here forever.”
The thought had you moaning around his cock, pulling away to give your lungs the reprieve of a full breath, only for a whined exhale to follow suit. “C-Chris, please.”
“Please, what?” Flattening his tongue, he licked a fat stripe up before giving your clit the lightest kiss imaginable, “Gonna come for me, pretty? Is that what you want?”
“N-No,” dropping your face to his thigh, you focused all of your energy into keeping your hand moving, “w-wanna make you come first, just- shit, just slow down a little!”
Chris hummed, feigning deep consideration, “But what if I want you to come for me?” His right hand slid further between your legs, his index finger stroking your fluttering walls with the promise of something more, “You said you wanted to repay me - so, let me make you come.”
Your hips bucked, muscles yearning to press back against the pressure to send you over the edge you were dangerously teetering over. “But-”
“Baby,” the velvet drawl of the pet name earned a pitiful hum in response, “you wanna make me feel good, don’t you?” He felt your head nod against his thigh, huffing out a short chuckle before continuing, “You wanna ‘repay’ me for everything I do for you, right?”
“Yes.” You sighed out, eyes fluttering at the feeling of his thumb replacing his finger in favor of toying with your clit.
“Well, guess what?” Dragging his thumb up, he pressed it against your slit, “Watching you come for me- Feeling you come for me is all I could ever want from you,” slowly pushing his thumb past your walls, he ghosted his lips against your inner thigh, “show me how good I’m making you feel, baby - do it for me, please.”
He punctuated his plea by swirling his tongue around your clit once more, thrusting his thumb in time with each flick while his left hand held your hip tightly.
Your mouth fell open, a moan fighting its way through your vocal chords only to come out as choked gasps, “Ch-ah- Channie- Fuck- Channie p-please-”
Pressing his thumb in to the knuckle, Chris wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked, humming out a low moan that proved to be the final straw to push you over the edge.
“Chris- C-Chris-!” Lifting your head, you put your mouth over your arm in hopes of muffling the airy moans escaping you, your vision blurring behind pleasure-fueled tears as he worked you through your orgasm.
His thumb slipped from your entrance to make room for his tongue to lap up your cum, drinking you up like a tall glass of water after a day in the sun.
It didn’t take long for you to catch your bearings, going to move away from his face until his hands tightened on your hips in silent challenge, a disgruntled grunt rising from your pure audacity of interrupting him.
“Channie, ‘s too much,” you whined breathlessly, wrenching your hand away from his - still hard - dick in favor of pushing yourself up onto your arms, “c-can’t take it, baby, please.”
Pulling away with a lewd slurp, Chris heaved a heavy breath, combating the lightheadedness of his tunnel vision while you carefully maneuvered yourself away from him - shuffling around to hover your head over a pillow before collapsing in the empty space, your body gratefully welcoming the cool sheets against your skin.
Bated breaths danced in the otherwise quiet atmosphere, Chris’s gaze locked on the ceiling as his lust-fogged brain tried to make sense of what just happened between the two of you.
“Channie?”
His heart fluttered at your soft call of his name, turning his head just to come across a sight that made his breath catch; you, his friend, laying beside him looking beautifully ruined with the golden afterglow of your orgasm that he gave you emanating from your body.
He tentatively licked his lips, goosebumps rising as your taste still lingered in his mouth, “Yeah, baby?”
“I still wanna make you come.” You murmured softly, eyes blinking at him so innocently it almost felt wrong that it made his dick twitch at the sight. “I still owe you, after all.”
Chris huffed out a chuckle, lifting himself onto his forearm before hoisting himself above you, settling his hips between your legs as he caged you in with his arms - this was a sight he could get used to.
“Instead of making this out to be you repaying a debt, how about we turn it into a ‘thank you’ gift, hm?” Leaning his head down, he brushed his nose against yours, “You thank me for the ride and the orgasm,” his lips ghosted against your own, “then I thank you for thanking me.”
“Chris, that won’t make any sense,” your voice was barely a whisper, your arms wrapping around his shoulders, “if you thank me, I’ll just thank you back - we’ll be in a loop.”
“We’ll work out the details later, then.” He murmured before leaning forward, catching your lips with his and sharing your taste off of his tongue.
Purge your thoughts of the life you knew before 🌻 ch.4
Female reader x Nikolai x Price ✨ wc: 6.4K - call of duty - explicit, MDNI. Read the tags. Dead dove don’t eat.
<-last chapter✨ AO3 link ✨masterlist ✨ next chapter ->
tags: non-consensual elements/rape, bikers AU, biker gang 141, omegaverse, dub-con, non-con touching, harassment, stalking, reader has a vagina, M/M/F threesome, threats, reader has a nickname, loss of parent, original characters, pack dynamics, alpha!John Price, Alpha!Nikolai, omega!reader, forced bonding, loss of virginity, breeding kink, piss kink, scent marking, daddy kink, stun guns, smut, rough sex, knotting, (maybe pregnancy), voyeurism, punishments, noncon spanking, p in v sex, anal sex, overstimulation, claiming barks, uh short appearance of a chopped off body part (action not described but the part will appear shortly)
A/N: Read the tags. This is were all the more intense stuff begins. If you don’t like reading non-con and dark stuff like that, stop reading this fic. I had plans of making this chapter longer, but I have decided to cut it there, because otherwise i feel like i force too much into one chapter alone lol. As always, lots of smooches to the lovely @venuskaltrip for being a bestie and dealing w my yapping
☀️🌤️⛅️🌥️☁️
Run.
Your sneakers crushed the flowers that the Parker pack had no doubt spent time planting last weekend - you rushed through the little garden gate that they had to the The Browns’ garden; ignoring the yells from the bikers, as you disappeared further and further in between the houses with the twisting trails and barely-there openings between houses that you could only just squeeze through.
Forcing bushes to part, ignoring whenever thorns ripped in your clothes and your skin. Accidentally breaking a potted plant or two, almost making a garden gnome fall over.
Run.
You lost them three or four gardens ago.
Shouts echoing - motorbikes being started, the sounds of the engines adding to the music of the thunderous clouds above. The footsteps behind you became less and less audible - you desperately needed to put more space in between them.
Run.
Millhaven wasn’t big enough to hide in forever, they would find you eventually even if you hid in between houses and shops, on roofs or in garden sheds - but you knew that, knew that you just had to occupy them for a short moment, make them think you stayed, while you didn’t. Hoping they would spend time looking through gardens, behind houses and between alleyways.
As you spotted the thin opening in the back of the garden, which belonged to the house with the smoking teenager, you went directly towards it. The opening was thin, right in between the stone fence and a bush, but it was there and after checking over the shoulder to make sure none of the bikers were near, you pushed yourself through it.
Run.
Away from the asphalt and gravel roads, the houses and gardens, the street lights and the light turning on in the windows; into the darkness of the night, to hide in between the shadows, inside the field.
The cornfield greeted you like an old friend, when you ran into it, the stalks and leaves hitting your jacket with soft thuds, opening up for you and closing up behind. The engines were like monsters in the dark, looking for you.
The whole town had to know now - know that something was up, that something was wrong tonight. That the roars of the sky was a warning for what to come, dark moments that had built up to this for weeks.
You ran for the forest.
When you were a child, you used to love running through the fields behind Millhaven together with your friends. Run through the wheat, the tall grass - it didn’t matter what was planted, but your favourite was corn. You could disappear into it together, like a never ending labyrinth of green and yellow, that could take hours to escape if you didn’t know how to. Together with Beatrice and the others, you would spend hours and hours out there, right until a few days before harvest. Then you would stay inside the houses or in the gardens, listening to the playground of the year disappear. When everything was done, it would be colder outside - and your little group would stay inside and watch the older kids drive across the bare fields on their ATVs.
Run.
When it was winter and the fields were all bare, it would be football fields or even better, if it snowed, all of you would spend as many bright hours of the day outside, kids across all ages meeting to make giant snow fights and create an endless amount of snowmen. Disappear into the forest behind the fields and when some adults had checked the ice, you would all ice skate on the small lake inside it.
When Carlos was a teenager, he broke his arm once when trying to do a trick, in order to impress Dennis. His parents weren’t impressed, but Dennis did draw a heart on the plaster once Carlos got back from the hospital.
Run.
Another time, during a warm summer evening swim, Beatrice had dropped an earring into the same lake - forcing everyone to dive and search for it, for several days in a row.Finn’s little sister somehow found it three years later and returned it to Bea, who still wore the earrings sometimes.
Run.
Another vivid memory that hit you, as the corn smashed into your face and body, barely able to breathe from how you were forcing your body to continue, was a late summer afternoon many years ago, when you all lost Enid in a cornfield. It felt as if all of you had spent hours yelling out her name, before finally managing to find her before it became too dark outside.
Run.
A corn stalk hit you directly in the middle of your face, making you yelp, only adding to the frustration of the pain already in your body. You wanted to sit down and cry, to hide beneath your dad’s bed, but you had to continue running - you simply had to go straight, then when you hit the first tree, turn left; deeper into the wilder nature, if you weren’t wrong, there might still be a tiny treehouse somewhere near the lake.
The thunderous rumble above you couldn’t hide the sound of an engine not too far from you - it didn’t sound like their big Harley Davidson or whatever their bikes were, but instead like the ATVs from your childhood. You found solace in knowing that it would be hell, if not impossible, to drive through the tall corn - but they could drive by the borders and —
If they didn’t catch you, you were going to die from the pain of running for too long now; your legs burned, your lungs felt like they didn’t work, your pulse was beating so hard it felt like it would burst - there were stars in your eyesight. You wanted to lay down so badly, gasp for air, maybe down three bottles of water.
You had never been a runner. Alphas didn’t physically run from problems, they met them head on.
But you’re not an alpha, are you?
You weren’t sure if it was the fright of what would happen that made your legs continue, if it was somehow courage because you refused to give up - or if it was something instinctual, your inner omega forcing you to not let yourself be taken by such alphas.
You just needed to get to the forest.
Run.
You almost let out a cry of victory when you saw the dark trees looming nearby, a lightning strike not too far away illuminating the sky for a second - dread hitting you suddenly like a lighting strike; you were barely able to stop near the edge, almost falling over face first, with how fast you stopped. Out of reflex you threw yourself onto the ground, in between the stalks and a few seconds later an ATV drove past, a flashlight lighting the corn stalks above you for a second, before it disappeared further down the road.
Looking for you. You wanted to throw up.
You pawed helplessly at your pocket for a moment, taking out your phone - new texts, unanswered calls and you quickly turned it off. Just in case. Even though Mary, Beatrice or any of the others might be trying to contact you, you didn’t trust the 141 to not be tracking you.
In a way, it was like your omega was taking over. After so many years of hiding her away in the back of your mind, she was desperately trying to save you now, forcing you to get up again, not even aware of the muddy clothes. Survive, get somewhere safe - you abandoned the safety of the cornfield, crossing the muddy borders between the field and forest, crawling under the fence. Disappearing in between two tall trees, your omega desperately trying to purr in order to get you to calm down; but you felt possessed, as if overtaken by a demon, unable to phantom the mere idea of slowing down or no longer continue to run.
They were everywhere, you were sure. It was as if all of your paranoia that had been gnawing and growing inside your body for years were coming true. It was only a matter of time, then they would get you - your life would be ruined, they would break you apart and infest your body, break your mind and force you into something you had never been allowed to be; they would take everything from you and if you didn’t attempt to escape it, you might as well had agreed.
Run.
Everything hurt.
Run.
A lightning strike hit again nearby.
Run.
You didn’t want to die.
Run.
You didn’t want them.
Run.
You didn’t want to become their omega.
Run.
The edge of the forest was filled with noise.
Run.
Who would look after Mary?
Run.
Did your dad do it out of love?
Run.
Where were you even supposed to g—
A body collided with yours from the side, a scream leaving you from the lungs that barely seemed able to work.
The forest ground was damp and cold as you hit it, the collision making pain bloom, like a bomb that exploded, sending shockwaves throughout your body. Air forced out your body, as a feral growl came from above you, like an angered god - the second you managed to take a breath, you screamed. Loudly. Hysterically.
Just like you had feared, you had been caught by your worst nightmare, his growling guttural. You trashed, trying to get away, as a hand grabbed onto the back of your jacket, angry words you didn’t understand, spilling from his lips, no, snarled like a beast, as you attempted to elbow him in the face.
”Stupid ‘mega,” Nikolai growled, attempting to put his body weight on top of you, despite how you fought beneath him; screaming and growling without stopping, refusing to stop, even if you only felt yourself be pushed further into the damp forest ground, “so wild - stop fighting—“
Your screams were loud even to yourself, your fingers in pain as you clawed at everything you could get a hold of, squirming to get free from him. The odds were against you - the alpha was bigger and stronger, but still. Why would you stop fighting for what seemed like your own survival?
Nikolai didn’t seem fond of your continual resistance - and when you managed to get one of your hands into your pocket, grabbing onto the pepper spray, an almost animalistic sound left the Russian alpha on top of you. He manhandled you so suddenly it caught you off guard, forcing you onto your back, his big hand grabbing a hold of your wrist in which you held your weapon. Nikolai snatched the metal from your hand despite your other hand clawing at his hand like mad. When he succeeded and tossed the metal can into the darkness of the forest, you screamed again, unsuccessfully attempting to hit his face - but you did manage to knee him between his legs.
A pained howl left him, his grip loosening.
You could hear the sounds of engines coming closer, drawn to the sounds of your screams. Yelling nearby, as they looked for the two of you. The thunder and lightening couldn’t even hide or help you.
You managed to push yourself slightly away, turning around to get up and on your feet.
Nikolai’s hand grabbed onto your ankle before you even got up, pulling you back and making you body slam into the ground again, the alpha snarling words you didn’t understand - you kicked his hand, another snarl leaving the man as you managed to get up, staggering onto your feet.
You didn’t even manage to get that far, his big body pulling you close again, keeping you on your legs.
“Stop fighting, Milaya.” “We will help you.” “You cannot win.” “You’re ours, little one.”
The words all melted together and you didn’t even attempt to listen to it, as he dragged you backwards, closer to the gap between the cornfield and forest edge again, one hand going around your neck, as you desperately attempted to bite and scratch him. Nikolai had taken your pepper spray, but he had seemingly forgotten about your stun gun. Too busy rumbling furiously, a guttural sound, dragging you along, despite your heels digging in and with how you tried fighting - so you somehow managed to pull the weapon from your pocket.
It was close to a practiced, almost a familiar, action now; flipping the on button and pushing down on the other button, as you pressed it against his bare skin on his hand.
An angry, throaty snarl left Nikolai, as he pulled back his hand that had been around your neck, attempting to take your weapon, but you fought this time, pressing it against him again and again - but unlike the first time, the Russian didn’t pull back nor did he let go of you.
”Gonna destroy you,” he darkly warned in between you hopelessly tasering him twice - somehow you managed to press it against his cheek, even if just for a second. You knew you would leave a mark, another stench of burnt flesh hitting you hard, mixing with the overwhelming scent of lust and anger.
It made Nikolai decide to tip you over, his heavy boots kicking your legs out from beneath you; harshly forcing you to the ground, onto your back without any mercy, settling on top of you… Your eyes widened with horror.
He was hard. You could feel his erection pressing against your stomach - when you frantically pressed the metal throngs against him once more, it wasn’t a sound from pain or annoyance that left him. But one from pleasure. The alpha on top of you moaned shamelessly, a deep throaty sound, like he was enjoying being tased. The mere fact startled you enough to allow him to grab onto your stun gun, easily pulling it out of your hand, ignoring your dull claws as you attempted to take it back.
Almost as if the claws weren’t there… as if you weren’t there, as if you weren’t a human being, not like him. Beneath him, easily overtaken, easily defeated.
Run, your inner omega screamed, but how were you supposed to? Submit. Run. Submit. Run. Nikolai was snarling above you, rutting against you, stinking of lust and power, his mere presence demanding the submission you refused to give, fighting every step of the way.
Where exactly he got the wet piece of cloth from, you didn’t know, but the moment he forced it onto the lower half of your face, you knew it wasn’t just water. The smell was intense in its own way, forcing its way into your nostrils and mouth, as you screamed and trashed beneath the bigger man. It was an nauseously sweet scent in an odd way that you almost couldn’t recognise, drops of the liquid trailing into both your nose and mouth, as he pushed it harder against you, staring down at you with a feral grin. Grinding against you, ignoring the way you trashed, the way tears spilled from your eyes, the way you coughed.
”Stop fighting, Milaya,” he cooed, the loving voice almost like venom, forcing its way into your bloodstream, making your body ignite with pain, “Don’t be silly, no?”
Every breath hurt, it burned, not only from the deep exhaustion, as the adrenaline began to disappear, but the wet cloud made you feel dizzy. Nikolai’s entire weight on your body hurt, as stones and branches dug into you from beneath, tears blurring your sight, as you helplessly pawed at him.
Ru-… Submit.
The rumble that came from him was pleased, his free hand sliding beneath your neck and with a little manoeuvring, you felt him grab onto your skin and pull; scruffing you, like a parent would a naughty pup.
”Sleep, little Sunflower,” his voice sounded tender as he almost cooed; like you were his lover having woken from a nightmare, unable to sleep afterwards and not a sobbing mess, he was trying to knock out with chloroform, “no more running.”
Submit, your inner omega screamed. Survive, your mind screamed back.
Headlights illuminated the two of you as you were found; Nikolai became a blurred silhouette above you, a godly shadow, as the last energy left your body and everything went dark.
☀️🌤️⛅️🌥️☁️
There was a familiar smell… blended together with something unfamiliar, yet not fully unknown. You weren't asleep, but you weren’t quite awake either.
Your head felt like it was filled with cotton… perhaps wet cotton, forced into your skull, pressed so hard together it could barely be there, your nose and mouth burning a little… Sore.
Had you escaped?
Purring. It felt slightly nice, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. Was it you who were purring?
There were more noises. So many noises. People talking, boots on wooden floors. Laughter. Doors opening and closing. Fridge opening, then closing. Drawers pulled out. Somebody was walking up and down the stairs constantly. Something was boiling. The couch creaked, a familiar sound to you; you had laid in it so many times, that you could recognise it anywhere. Then… the smell of tobacco.
The sound of a groan - it took you a second to realise it was from yourself, the headache suddenly becoming harder for a moment, like somebody was forcing more wet cotton into your skull, despite the limited space.
Another groan, bordering on a whimper. Something was touching your head. Your hair was slightly wet. As you groggily opened your eyes, you saw a bit of mud in a tuft of it.
The light hurt, making you groan again and you twisted a little, unsure of where you were - then it actually hit you.
Something - no, someone was touching your hair, gently petting it. It made you freeze - and then a deep chuckle appeared, the purr stopping for a moment. Your eyes shot open once again, even if everything still were a little blurry, everything doubled for a second; the scent actually hitting you, almost warning you of who you would see, as you dared to look up.
John Price was gently petting you. Your head was resting on his lap and he looked down at you, another deep purr leaving him, messing with your head once again. He wasn’t wearing his leather jacket for once.
A coo-like sound left him and he moved his hand to gently caress your cheek for a moment. It was almost as if you couldn’t move, mind overwhelmed, too confused and the drug was still soaked into said mind.
“It’s okay, darling,”. He whispered all lovingly and tenderly at you, hand warm against your cold skin “go back to sleep, sweet flower, you can relax. We got you now.”
Perhaps it was supposed to be comforting. But it wasn’t. Not to you.
We got you now.
It was as if your body followed his command, even if it was unwillingly. As if you disappeared into the cornfield again, darkness consuming you, while you desperately pushed through the many corn stalks, faces flashing by. Your mom, dad, Nikolai, Ghost, Mary, Beatrice as a child, Soap, the female omega in your door, Dennis, Carlos with his broken arm, Lewis from the pub, the Spanish talking woman, child Enid crying, since she was scared and waiting to be found —
You blacked out again, mind disappearing into the darkness.
☀️🌤️⛅️🌥️☁️
“Every day?” You asked your dad, looking down at the pills in your hand. They looked harmless in your palm, like they were vitamins - perhaps allergy pills at best. A part of you wanted to refuse, but you knew it was a smart move. The Shadows, on their roaring bikes, with their odd logos and angry words, did scare you but the idea of them becoming interested in you, scared you even more.
“Yes, dear,” your dad answered, putting the last bottles into the medicine cabinet before turning around, adding “It’s for your safety.”
Safety. Your dad smelled like safety to you. Sometimes you convinced yourself that he still smelled of mom too.
You stared at the pills a little more, wondering how the fuck they were going to get rid of the faint scent of omega from your body, but at the same time, you weren’t really into science - if they worked, they worked. You finally looked up at your dad.
He held a glass of water, offering it to you with a smile on his face, though it seemed sad. You took it, popping the pills into your mouth, washing them down with the water, ignoring the slightly chemical taste it left.
”It’s only until they leave,” your dad promised, sadness in his voice despite the smile, “or you move away. Then you won’t have to take them any more.”
You doubted the shadows would just disappear out of nowhere, but one could be hopeful. A couple of years, you imagined - then they certainly had to have grown tired of Millhaven and everything would be back to normal. Just like when mom was alive.
”Yeah,” you whispered, leaning into your father’s body as he pulled you into a hug.
”I’m sorry, my little Sunflower.” His voice was nothing but a whisper and you hid your face in his shirt. Taking in his scent and wondering why he was apologising. If it was because the two of you were stuck here in Millhaven or because he made you take the pills. In theory, you could just refuse. He would let you. You knew that. Still. You were scared.
”It’s not like you can control me bein’ born as an omega,” you pointed out dryly, making your father huff. It was an attempt to make him feel better, but you didn’t know if it worked.
It wasn’t like you could control it either, yet you could hide it for others.
☀️🌤️⛅️🌥️☁️
Your eyelids felt too heavy to move. The headache didn’t feel as rabid as it had the first time you woke. Unable to open your eyes at first, you instead took in the noises of your house. There wasn’t much noise, but you knew you were still in your own house, as you could easily recognise the familiar scents, as well as the feeling of your couch, the fabric pressing against your cheek. Your head wasn’t resting in the lap of John Price, which was a relief.
Your mouth was dry, so you slid your tongue along your teeth a couple of times, trying to make your eyes open. You managed to, ever so slightly, the familiar yet blurry sight of the coffee table and turned off television oddly comforting despite their mundanity.
“Are you waking up, little sun?”
The voice made you groan and closed your eyes when a pair of black pants with chains on came into view - the Russian accent making a shiver of uneasiness rush through your body. For just a second you were back at the edge of the forest, wet leaves clinging to you as you pressed the stun gun against Nikolai’s skin again and again. You remembered the smell of burning flesh… the way the alpha had moaned from the pain and grinded against you.
When you opened your eyes again, you let out a loud cry; Nikolai’s face was all up in yours, a feral grin on his face, that made your instincts scream for you to run.
As if you hadn’t attempted to run already.
“Ah, da, you are - got scared i used too much,” he stated casually, as if he was telling you about the weather, “Don’t worry about anything now, little omega, most of our things have already been moved in.”
Despite the slight pain in your head and the tiredness that had sept into your bones, you quickly sat up, crawling backwards away from Nikolai, to the other end of the couch, the man merely staring like a hungry beast; sitting down on the couch, while you freaked out, crawling close to you himself.
”What the fuck are you - you’re crazy! Both of you are bloody insa—“
A hand appeared at the back of your neck and suddenly you felt yourself get scruffed like a misbehaving kid, making you wail, arms weakly pawing at the man behind you; you didn’t need to look to know who it was, because Price’s scent was intense, his fingers bearing a strong smell of tobacco as well.
”Calm down, pet,” Price said, while your body slowly went limb, his other hand pushing beneath the opening of your shirt, running his warm fingers with the cold rings along your skin, only to caress your scent gland, “We just moved the most important things in while you napped, pet. Just enough for the beginning.”
His words almost didn’t register, your eyes wide, staring at Nikolai who was still grinning, his eyes following Price’s hand touching your gland…. Your bare, exposed gland. They had taken your scent patches off. It was the first time in years that somebody touched your glands without any patches on and the feeling was weird, making a small whimper leave you.
This had to be a nightmare; an odd, terrifying nightmare. Created from your deepest fears, trauma added to make it even worse.
”I - I…” the words couldn’t escape your mouth, your body still lax because of his grip on your scruff - yet it was the overwhelming amount of things that had happened while you had been out cold that kept you from speaking; the mean sentences you were ready to speak, the comebacks to make them upset. They were all stuck, just like you were in your body right now.
The moment Price let go of you, your body sagged together for a second, before you all but scrambled to the floor, in an attempt to put some more distance between you and the alphas. Said alphas who were watching your every move with hungry yet amused expressions. Like they were waiting for a certain moment to jump you.
”I’m gonna report you,” you threatened, hands curling into fists as you crawled backwards a little, growling a little at them, “I’m not gonna let you get away with any of this!”
Nikolai’s sudden laughter was so loud and heavy that it made you flinch and growl a little more.
”Who are you gonna tell, hm?” Price asked in a mocking voice, moving in front of the couch to get closer to you, yet it was as if a demon suddenly overtook his body while he moved, face darkening, “Nobody is going to help you, Sunflower. Nobody dares.”
”You’re ours now, milaya,” Nikolai menacingly crooned from the couch.
“But don’t worry,” Price continued with no kind of comfort in his words, “You will forget everything about that when we’ve fuck you silly—“
”No - nonono,” you desperately crawled backwards, Price calmly following.
”Gonna fuck you until your scent returns,” it was a promise, it was a threat and despite him continuing you turned around and scrambled away - only to run into the arms of Nikolai who had moved from the couch without you noticing.
You screamed; filled with the fear of what they were going to do, what was going to happen, the horror they would force upon you. Nikolai pulled you close, slapping his hand over your mouth for a moment, tears falling from your eyes.
”We’re gonna fuck you until you go into heat, sweetheart,” He was smiling, all lovingly at you - and then Nikolai yanked you towards the stairs - towards upstairs, with all the bedrooms and you screamed again, Nikolai not even bothering to cover your mouth more. There was nothing loving about this, nothing romantic like books always described couplings between alphas and omegas to be like. Nikolai all but dragged you while you fought, with Price casually walking behind you, smiling with glee, like you were the most delicious thing he had ever seen.
Like this was a normal thing.
They were going to force you into heat, force you into everything you had feared.
You couldn’t stop it from happening, the fear overtaking you as Nikolai had dragged you up just two of the steps — You pissed yourself, the warmth that spread from your body only making it worse and somehow more embarrassing, making you sib and twist.
“Nik.”
Price’s voice made Nikolai stop at once, his big arm around your chest still holding you fast - a purr like sound leaving Price, as you sobbed, eyes closed.
”My my, Sunflower,” Price growled, his hand reaching out to touch your pants at your inner thigh that was darkening with the urine that spread, “pissing yourself like a scared dog, huh?”
Some of the liquid ran down your leg and dripped onto the wooden staircase as if to confirm his question. Despite your sobs, you could hear both of the men inhale deeply and sniff. Taking in the scent of your piss; you were both horrified and embarrassed at the same time.
”Fuck,” Nikolai muttered darkly, ”Body knows were in control, huh? That you are little pathetic pup, da?”
The worst thing was that you knew he was right and the thought almost paralysed you, because they were in control - the two of them were the strongest. And you wanted to scream and cry that they couldn’t do this to you, that you didn’t want your first time to be covered in piss and against your will, but you knew they weren’t going to romance you if you said so.
It wasn’t unheard of for omegas to piss themselves in intense situations when it came to dominance, but you had never felt close to that. It felt as if your body was betraying you.
Nikolai hauled you up the last few steps, almost throwing you to the wooden floor as he got up, and you let out a cry, your body tired and terrified - the last urine escaping your bladder as you sniffled. They far from sounded upset about you pissing yourself, in fact, if the lust scent filling the room was anything to go by, they were rather into it.
“Gonna fuck your piss-dripping pussy, milaya,” Nikolai warned, raising his foot to press against your soft, lower stomach, almost as if to see if he could force more piss out of you, making you close your eyes from the pain, “not gonna be nice.”
“Nasty little thing,” Price began, “It was never the pla—“
“I’VE NEVER HAD SEX,” your voice was loud, raw and desperate, and you feebly tried to hit and push away Nikolai’s foot, pressing your eyes close, “please don’t - please don’t- I’m scared- I’m - you’re being so gross, I’m - I’m —“
Beyond your cries and intense begging, none of them said anything for a moment, but you couldn’t make yourself care, continuing to beg, your voice slowly dying down, while you hit Nikolai’s foot. It finally moved.
You were taking shaking breaths when they moved, suddenly both over you, pressing you down, your eyes opening; Nikolai grabbed a hold of you, easily pushing you onto your stomach like you weighed nothing, ignoring your wail.
“Nononon—“
“Oh Sunflower,” Price’s voice was like honey, so sweet sounding that the poison you knew was beneath, even though it was barely audible, as he squatted down in front of you, “why didn’t you say so, sweetheart?”
“Fuck you, asshole- wha—“
Nikolai had taken and grip and pulled your hips up like you were a doll, forcing you onto your knees, before grinding his clothed erection against your piss soaked pants, moaning out a disgusting, “you smell so good, flower.”
The wet, still slightly warm fabric pushed against your cunt and you closed your eyes at the disgusting feeling.
”No, fuck you’re nasty, piece of—“ your anger were cut up as he trusted against you again, almost making you topple over from the sudden power, a half sob leaving you. He leant further over you while Price let out an amused laughter and to your horror, he began to open his belt buckle. Nikolai strongly distracted you by grapping a hold of one of your arms, pulling it behind your back without a care. Your scream didn’t deter him and you began sobbing loudly over the entire situation again, feeling helpless with only one arm to keep your face from being repeatedly pushed into the wooden floor.
Each thrust felt so weird, so foreign, so wrong.
At the sound of Price pulling down his fly, you forced yourself to close your eyes, too afraid of what he would do, unable to stop your sobs. There could hardly be anything sexy about you right now, tears mixing with snot, face half smashed into the floor.
You tried to block everything out without succes, tensing up a little as you heard Price shifted to kneel in front of you.
”Pretty girl,” you felt Price touched you beneath one of your eyes, making you open it for a second in confusion, following the hand and oh, fuck that was nasty - he used the hand to give him cock a couple of dry pumps. You were constantly thrusted backwards, your arm hurting from how Nikolai pulled you back. You hated how your body was reacting, how it recognised the base instinct that you were going to have sex soon, making your pussy wet. You hated how it made you mewl and how your body seemed to give up. You could hear them talk, but you tried blocking them out - could hear Nikolai mutter in Russian, feel his pace quicken; you could hear Price spit on his hand, hear him jerk off faster. It sounded slick now and your inner omega was screaming for you to submit.
Nikolai’s grunts were getting faster - then he suddenly stopped and you could hear him all but rip his pants down, before he let go of your arm, pushing your shirt up and oh…
Another sniffle left you as you heard him moan and groan, a deep rumble behind the sounds, feeling the cum landing on your lower back. Despite having both hands free, you couldn’t make yourself move, too afraid and to a certain degree, too shocked by what had just happened.
”Look at me,” Price’s voice was wavering, the slick sounds becoming faster as you refused with a little defiant shake of your head, keeping your eyes pressed closed even harder - trying not to react to his growl, even though your omega was screaming for you to submit.
Nikolai’s hands slid beneath your pants, taking a hold of your hips squeezing the fat on your sides hard, a deep growl leaving him, as a warning.
”Sunflower.” Price’s voice was darker and you hesitated for a second before you dared to open your eyes. His cock was big; sure, you hadn’t seen a lot of cocks in real life, but you had grown up with the internet. You knew how things worked and you knew for a fact that the man in front of you was thicker and longer than the average English person with a dick. You were even more horrified at the sight of his already half-swollen knot.
There was no fucking way any of that thing was going to fit into you.
With a deep moan that sent a small tingle along your spine, Price came - cum splattering over your face before you could move, making you whimper in disgust, eyes closing again.
They were touching you again. The hallway stank of piss, sweat and sex pheromones almost making you gag.
They were praising you softly, like you were a dog who had done a trick and not a person that they had just assaulted. Obnoxious alphas that believed they had the right to an omega’s body.
You felt soiled, like something that had just been used and then disregarded. But they seemed to like you like this, overwhelmed and barely moving - Nikolai continuing to rub his cum into your bare back, as Price began to do the same with the cum on your face.
“Wasn’t that bad, was it, ‘mega?” Price asked in a purr, making you dare to open your eyes again. He had put his member away, looking down on you with a loving expression, despite how his eyes were all dark, “you can be good for us, can’t you?”
You almost felt mesmerised for a second - the two big fingers that had been rubbing his spend into your skin, moving to touch your lips. He pressed against your wet lips, almost like an offering and you felt yourself open your mouth, making a deep, pleased rumble leave Price.
He pressed his fingers against your tongue, the salty, unknown taste of cum overwhelming on your tongue for a second.
Then you bit down with full force.
It would be a lie to say that you didn’t enjoy the loud scream that left the man. As he managed to rip them from your mouth and Nikolai pulled you backwards, screaming at you as well, you noticed the taste of cum had been switched with the metal-like taste of blood… making you grin.
You hadn’t managed to bite his fingers off sadly - but you had managed to break the skin and the big bad alpha, John fucking Price, was fully red in his face from the anger. Good.
The slap to your cheek was sudden and forceful, making you whimper as the world became blurry for a second - cutting off the most of your amusement.
You heard Price bark Nikolai’s name and it seemed like they had some sort of secret way of communication, since Nikolai instantly moved your body once more - and once again your upper body was thrown upon the wooden floor. This time scratching your chin, making you cry out - only for you to freak out even more as Nikolai immediately ripped your pants and underwear down beneath your cheeks, as if it was the most natural thing that came to him.
You began screaming again, instantly attempting to get away - only for Price to take a hold of your neck and after a short moment of struggling, he scruffed you.
In truth, you had rarely been scruffed - maybe twice as a kid, not even by your parents - but now you had been scruffed several times in a short timeframe, making the back of your neck sore.
thinking about how chan would be the type of guy to post instagram/tiktok biker thirsty traps. he'd always keep his helmet on to keep some form of anonymity, black compress shirts that hug and show off his muscular body. sometimes he would wear a wolf helmet cover, other times, it'd be something pink with long ears. chan isn't afraid to get in touch with the feminine side, exploring more ways to 'dress up.' (which just makes him 10x hotter to his followers) he'd make videos dancing in front of his motorbike, joining in on whatever dance trend is going on or he would post yn povs, with the occasional "if you were my girlfriend/boyfriend, i'd do this".
he'd casually flirt in the comments section, seeing everyone fawn over him with heart eyes. man, woman, no binary, transgender - he doesn't care. he's here to provide thirst traps and content for his followers. he'd flirt with anybody !! having all this attention on him, however, would feed his ego but, because he is such a softie, he'd feel bashful and maybe overwhelmed that so many people find his this attractive
Summary: Your whole life had been spent falling in love with the wrong guy. So, when Steve Rogers walked into your life, you thought you had finally done it. You finally found the right guy, leave the life of heartache behind, and start something real. Except your 'perfect guy' has secrets and all of a sudden you find yourself too deep in a situation that you don't know how to get out of. You always did manage to the pick the wrong guy, but maybe the wrong one will finally lead to something better...
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader/ Unresolved!Steve Rogers x Reader
Warnings (will update as needed): Violence/Infidelity (not from lead couple)/ Character Death/ Weapons/Drug Use/Unplanned Pregnancy/Language Use
Word Count: 3.1k
Previous Part < Masterlist
You can hear him yelling your name as you sneakers slap against the gravel, making a beeline for your car, shaky fingers clicking the ‘unlock’ button furiously. There isn’t room for you to think about anything else, you need to get out of here. You need to go back home and pretend that this never happened and figure out where to go from here.
Your hand connects with the car handle just as a wide hand lands on the door next to yours, breath panting in your ear. Keys tumble from your hand as you stare at the hand that had once held your own with such reverence with wide eyes.
“Stop.”
His voice is quiet, the word spilling from his lips shakily. The sound of his voice after so long and him being so close has you closing your eyes. You don’t find comfort in his cologne in the air, warm body so close to you that you can feel him radiating against you through your shirt. Instead, you feel the same thing you felt staring at your phone screen months ago, face burning as your heart catches up with your mind.
Sick.
The only man you ever loved makes you feel sick.
“Just stop running.” He begs, breath heavy in his chest. “Please.”
He doesn’t move his hand, body caging you in in a way that used to make you feel thrilled. Now, the feeling of him so close, when that is all you have been running from doesn’t cease the panic in your chest. You can feel your airway closing, head feeling light as your body trembles with adrenaline.
His other hand reaches up, burning you as it cups the back of your elbow. You jump with the contact, front of your body connecting with the car. You spin around, eyes wide as you press you back against the car, but you don’t let your gaze move to his eyes. Instead, you look at the abandoned lot, loose pieces of gravel, or anything else. Anything to keep you away from falling apart for a man you never should have allowed to hold you together in the first place.
“Doll.”
The name catches your breath, chest heaving as you struggle to breathe. It tumbled from his lips the same way as before, setting your heart ablaze. A name mumbled into your ear in the quiet of the night. A name that would find you at the receiving end of a big smile, being gathered in his arms after a long week of not seeing each other. A name that nobody else had ever called you, and you had never heard him say to anyone else.
Yours.
Or maybe it was just another thing his wife had unknowingly lent you.
His hand finds your jaw, bending his knees as he gently tugs your jaw up, searching for your eyes. Once his blue eyes lock on yours, you feel the world stop. If you were delusional, you would almost think you could see tears in his eyes as he finally catches your eye, dropping his head back in belief before his forehead falls to land on yours.
“I thought you were dead.” His thumb brushes across your ear as he breathes you in, rubbing the side of your face soothingly, calming the pounding in your head. The statement doesn’t even register in your mind, the smell and feel of him on your skin after so long consuming you. “Bucky said you quit your job and you weren’t answering your phone.”
It’s in his fit of rambles that you forget why you had left him in the first place. He only ever rambled when he was worried, anxiety eating at him and making him open his mouth and all his thoughts just spewing out. It was something you had thought was so endearing, knowing that he trusted you enough to let you into exactly how he felt about your dinner plans, what you planned to do with your apartment, or your relationship.
Gold glitters in the corner of your eye and your stomach drops, causing his eyebrows to furrow together as he stares at you. He told you everything under the sun about what he was thinking and always failed to mention the very ring on his finger that had strangled your heart for months now.
“You’re married.”
You watch his face fall, but even when you try to shuffle yourself back as far into the side of the car as you can, he won’t let you go. Not after he just got you back.
“I’m sorry.”
The word feels so misplaced after you drop the reasoning for you disappearing in the middle of the night. Wrong. Sorry. His eyes looking at you like that. His hands on your face. It’s all wrong. He is wrong.
You try to pull away, but he just ticks his jaw, hands keeping your head locked right in front of him as he looks down at you, blue eyes blazing with every emotion you can think of, yet not enough to make you foolish enough to fall for it again.
“Sorry?”
You finally find your voice, ignoring the stabbing pain in your throat as you squeak out the question. Your voice trembles in the slightest, and you watch it register in his eyes. You aren’t sad. Flames are growing in your eyes as you stare back at him, finally allowing yourself to get past the feelings of sorrow and deceit.
“You apologize for leaving your socks on the floor,” You poke at his chest, the impact not even knocking him back in the slightest. “You apologize for being late for dinner. You don’t apologize for not telling someone you were married.”
Your voice breaks on the last word, the reality of the situation coming back to you at once. What you feel no longer mattered, and you were here to do one thing and then disappear again.You have no intention of letting him rope you into whatever game he is playing any longer.
He, on the other hand, stares at where your finger is poking his chest and ticks his jaw once again. He swallows before he looks back at you, thumb brushing the side of your cheek as if he can ease the tension away. Like the truth will vanish with the swipe of a thumb or the way his eyes find peace in yours.
“I never meant for this to happen-”
“What?”
Your voice bursts out of your chest exasperatedly. You look up at him in disbelief, trying to see if he could possibly be joking, but you know him. Or at least, you know who he wanted you to know.
“You didn’t mean for this to happen?” You swat his hand away with force this time, and he looks between his dropped hand and you, allowing you the space to continue, but doing nothing for your personal space. “You knew. You were there when you made your vows and I know you were there when you fucked me.”
You don’t miss the way he seems to cringe at the way your voice raises, the word choice obvious to him as being chosen carefully. He had always hated the way the word sounded coming from you. Anytime you had said it before, he was quick to remind you that wasn’t what it was. That you meant more to him than just that.
His hand finds your elbow once again and you shove at his chest. Hard. He takes a step back and you can practically feel the air rush into your lungs. He had let you move him, you knew that. Yet, your anger just seemed to grow.
“Do you even care who you have made me become?” You ask, eyes ablaze as you stare at him, expression hard as you throw your hands in the air. “Or did you like having your cake and eating it too? A wife and a whore on the side?”
“Enough.”
His voice booms, eyes narrowing as he looks back at you. He isn’t pleading with you anymore, frustration taking over his own face. His shoulders are now pushed back, standing tall as he glares at you instead of cowering around your frame to make you feel like his equal. Instead, his jaw is set, eyes blazing as he towers over you, every bit the same wall of a man that you knew scared the shit out of anyone who crossed his path. He had never squared himself with you. Until now.
For a second, he seems to realize it, shoulders slumping just the slightest as he scans the flustered look on your face. His palms unravel at his sides, a breath falling out of his lips as he tries to take his intimidation back. He knows it won’t work that way. You don’t work that way. You, who always took notice of everything and always knew when he was upset just by the twitch of an eyebrow.
His lips part and your arms cross over your chest, waiting for him to say anything, but you know he can’t. There is no argument that he could make that wouldn’t make the situation worse, and you think that he knows it too.
“Steve.”
You jump at the sound of another voice, heat immediately rising to your cheeks. There is no way that they hadn’t heard you. The weight of your confessed affair to the man in front of you was one thing, but having someone else know? Shame burns, face hot and ears burning as you drop your gaze to the ground, trying your best to hide in an open space.
“Peggy asked if you were on your way to get the boys,” Bucky’s voice cuts through the air, and you can feel Steve’s eyes burning the top of your head. “I told her you had already left.”
Peggy.
Hollow. That’s the only word that might begin to capture how you are feeling. You knew what coming here would be. You had seen the name ‘Margaret Carter’ glaring you in the face for months, but a nickname? Her real name? A real face? She was a real person.
Steve Rogers has a wife. A family.
You had been sleeping with Peggy Carter’s husband. Envisioning a future with the father of her children. Falling in love with the same man who belonged to her.
“I’ll head out right after I-”
“You are going to go pick up your kids,” Bucky cuts him off, and you close your eyes at the sound of Bucky scolding the man in front of you. “And I will take care of this.”
You look up at that, eyes fluttering between the two men who are now looking right at each other. Bucky’s arms are crossed, leather tightly woven around his arms as he glares at Steve, who stands in front of his best friend with slumped shoulders and a look on his face that is new to you. Defeat.
“Just don’t go anywhere,” Steve’s voice breaks through your mind, and you find your eyes snapping back to his. “Please.”
You both knew the second he walked away you would be gone again. Coming here had been a fool's errand, and while you thought it was the right thing, seeing him hurt way more than you thought. Standing and staring at the love of your life while he begs for you to stay and talk to him, but he wasn’t yours. He couldn’t be. He already had a family. A wife. Someone to call home. The thought of it had hurt enough, but you had confirmation now. You were a homewrecker. You had waltzed right in and tore the walls down, and his wife didn’t even know.
“Steve.” Bucky’s voice cuts through again, motioning with his head for his friend to get out of there.
Steve clenches his jaw before looking back at you, offering you the closest thing to a silent apology a person could give, blue eyes begging for you to wait for him to return. He knew it as well as you that you weren’t going to be here when he came back, the reasoning for your visit long pushed down in your mind. You needed to get out of here and back to your life and Steve needed to get back to his.
He glances over your face as if he is silently committing it to memory, eyes lingering on your mouth before his eyes meet yours just once more before he is turning and brushing past his friend with a quick pat on his shoulder. Bucky just gives him the slightest nod, acknowledging him before turning back to you.
Your feet stay planted as you watch him walk away, part of you begging him to turn around and the other part of you cursing the day you ever laid eyes on Steve Rogers. You bend down to grab your keys once he re-enters the building you had run from, hand finding the handle of your car easily before Bucky clears his throat.
“I know why you are here.”
Bucky’s voice is solid. Firm. No emotion in it, but his face says something different. To him, you are public enemy number one as he stands with his arms crossed, eyes narrow and jaw set as he glares at you.
Your heart pounds, hands sweating as you look at him dumbfoundedly. There’s no way he could know. You had made sure to not be obvious, and after the fight you had given yourself once you had gotten here, it had been pushed so far back that you hadn’t even remembered it until he is standing in front of you, facing you with the reminder of why you had even showed your face in the first place.
You thought you had been doing the right thing. You had argued with yourself for weeks over it, locking yourself in your room for days as you tried to decide what you should do. As much as you loved Steve, your heart ached. Coming today was a horrible decision. You wanted to see him again. You had wanted to be wrong. Even with all the evidence in the world, the tiniest piece of your heart was holding out hope that you were wrong. That maybe you had misconstrued everything and that maybe, he had really loved you. That you could all work this out before it got out of hand. You knew it had been a bad idea, and now Bucky knew. He knew you were the other woman. He knew what you had done. He knew-
“He’s married,” Bucky says, “You need to let him go.”
Your shoulders drop, eyes closing for just a second in relief as you let your shoulders drop. Steve Rogers was married. You had slept with him. You were hopelessly in love with him. Bucky could know that you were a horrible person. You could live with that. He probably just thought you were some obsessive side piece. That, you could accept and get out of here without a scratch and go back to your life that you had been rebuilding.
“I’ve done that,” You say.
He raises an eyebrow immediately, cocking his head to the side almost in amusement. Embarrassment seeps into your cheeks, eyes burning at the smug look on the biker in front of your face. You clench your jaw, squaring your shoulders as you glare back at him.
“I’m doing that.”
Bucky takes a step forward, and you take one back, back bumping against the side of your car again. He looks at you in what you could only describe as mockingly before he places a hand on the hood of the car you are leaning against, knee almost bumping the side of yours as he looks down at you. He stands there for just a moment, searching over your face before a slight smirk graces his face.
“Doesn’t look like you are doing too good a job, Doll.”
“Don’t call me that.”
It flies out of your mouth immediately and he drops his head with a chuckle. That wasn’t his name to call you. If you ever heard that name again it would be too soon. It was tainted by Steve Rogers who had whispered it in your ear a million times. The next person to call you that was getting the drop kick of a lifetime, and while you would like nothing more than to knock that smug face off of Bucky Barnes, you needed to get out of there before Steve returned with his empty promises and puppy dog eyes.
Your eyes glare up at him, and he leans down, closer to you this time. He’s trying to taunt you, you know that. However, you have set your walls in your mind and heart fully with the view of a leather jacket turning away from you only moments ago. He can pick all he wants, but you are not weak. Not for Steve Rogers. Not for him. There’s nothing he can say to you that you haven’t already said to yourself.
“He has a wife,” Bucky reminds you, blue eyes set intently on yours, “He has three boys.”
You clench your jaw at the unwanted reminder. You didn’t need him standing in front of you, throwing the life you had missed in your face when you had been doing it to yourself every day for two months. No matter what Steve had told him about you, he didn’t know you. You weren’t looking to sleep with a married man, and if you had known, you never would have. You left the second you had pieced it together. He didn’t get to act like you were pining over Steve Rogers when you were just nursing a broken heart. You hadn’t set out to do anything wrong. You had fallen in love with someone you thought loved you back. His stupid smirk could fuck off for all you care.
“I didn’t know-” Your finger flies up to poke at his chest to get him to back up. You don’t need to make him believe you, but he doesn’t get to act like you are some floozy who was prowling around after a family man.
“And a fourth isn’t going to change that.”
Your face falls, heart plummeting to your feet and all Bucky can do is look at you, steel blue eyes smiling victoriously. Your hand falls limply at your side as your lips part, the shock giving Bucky every bit of acknowledgment that this was what you had come for.
A/n: I’m in a biker!bucky funk and I am absolutely here for it. I am writing pieces that have me in a chokehold and that I know I will see through to the end. I hope you enjoy this first part to a two part piece!
The bakery was a quiet hum as your regulars moved throughout your store looking into the glass cases and wooden shelves for their favorite treats. You took notice of their hurried movements as their eyes went from the delectable treats you had made midmorning, to the grandfather clock that rested just at the back of your store. It was a monthly occurrence; your regulars rushing in to grab the baked goods before they came.
The 107.
You had only heard of them in passing before you had made the decision to open a second shop here in the heart of Brooklyn. Now they were all you heard of; their names whispered throughout your shop as the locals grabbed their baked goods from you. You had been warned of them plenty before you had signed your name on the dotted line to take owner ship of this place. Many advising against the purchase saying you’d be paying more than you’d be making.
How wrong they had been.
While yes, the price to have a shop on their street was a pretty one, most of the money you willingly gave over to them in a manila folder at the beginning of the month always found its way back to you. You see the men of the 107 appreciated the service you provided to their people, enjoyed the welcoming environment you provided to those that stopped in for a visit. This is partially the reason why on the first of the month you now find yourself closing shop early to invite the bikers in.
The first of your regulars finds you at the register, a warm smile on her lips as she passes you the white paper bag. “Is this all,” you question as you place the bagged sweets on the scale. “Oh yes,” she chirps, “don’t want to grab to many sweets or I won’t have reason to come in later this week!” That brings a smile to your lips as you state her the price, accepting her card as you pass her the bag. “Well, you know I always look forward to our meetings I'll be waiting to see you later this week, hopefully with a new recipe for you to try,” you say as you pass her her receipt and card promising to see her soon as the next one in line takes her spot.
It’s like that till your bidding the last of your usual’s a farewell as you pass them their bag of treats with the same promise to see them later in the week. After the last toll is heard through your shop you're moving from behind the register to the front of the shop where you flip the sign from ‘open’ to ‘closed’. You then twist the locks knowing that your visitors will be letting themselves in with their own copy of your shops key.
You move back past the register pushing open the kitchens door as you make your way to the counter to fetch your new recipe that waits for you plated. As you reach for the plated desserts the gong of your grandfather clock can be heard through the shop, it was time. Picking up the plate you move over to the swinging door, kicking it open as you pushed through. Resting the plate next to the register you reached down to the shelves below to grab the manila folder that had been waiting weeks to be picked up.
At the same time that you push to full height you can see their frames fill your doorway, their boisterous laughter sounding through the locked door as they use their copy to let themselves in. The noise fills your shop almost instantly as they give you their warmest welcomes, a warm smile finding your lips as you give them your own welcomed greeting, your eyes locking with his as he leads his group in.
Steve and Sam are the last ones in, Steve’s fingers going for the locks as they all crowd you at the register. His frame is always closest to you; guarding, grounding, it’s an odd comparison to the man you met at your first encounter with one another.
“Is the lock really necessary,” you question to stop yourself from putting your full focus on him, there would be time for that soon enough. “I’ve got nothing to keep from any of you, heck I send you out of here every month with more than what you came for,” you add with a soft laugh. Steve is coming up the center Sam in tow as they flank Bucky, “Sorry y/n, bosses orders, you know we can never be too cautious” Steve answers easily with a smile. “Of course,” you confirm, with an easy smile of your own “so business as usual?”
This time you will your eyes to meet his, the ocean greys capturing you almost instantly, a nod to his head, a smirk kissing the corner of his mouth. It’s like clockwork, your hands grabbing the envelope to pass it to him, fingers brushing for a brief second before he’s passing the manila folder over to Steve. The plate goes next the treats you baked up earlier before their arrival being passed down but not before he grabs one for himself.
“New recipe,” he questions as he looks over the baked dessert.
Your smile pulls a little higher, “been wanting to add this recipe to my shelves for awhile now,” you say as you watch the rest of the 107 fill your bakeries tables, “couldn’t quite get it right though, but I think I may have finally perfected it.”
Moritas throaty groan fills the air then, his palm smacking the table top he’s sat at with the others, Bucky throws him a glare but the man can’t be bothered as he praises the dessert through a mouth half full. You can’t help but to laugh offering him and the others in the room their choice of beverage from the coolers off to the side, “there’s freshly brewed coffee as well,” you throw in.
“Y/n,” Bucky warns but it falls on deaf ears as you wave him off beckoning him over to the office, “it’ll be quieter in there,” you add as you move away from the register and to your half-opened office door. You can hear Bucky send out a warning to his men, one that’s met with a quiet huff as the men indulge in the sweet drinks and an even sweeter pastry. You round your desk taking a seat on the soft cushion as you wait for the broad, short-haired brunette to enter your office; he doesn’t have you wait long.
You watch as he fills your doorway before the office door is being swung shut behind him, his large frame occupying the soft leathered cushioned chair before you. He relaxes into the seat, a warm smile kissing his pink lips as he takes you in, “how’ve you been sweetheart, any trouble?”
A warmth blooms in your chest, a sweetness for the man before you settling over your features as you adjust yourself in your chair, “The only trouble is you locking that door on your visits, you know how many customers come in after your visit just to make sure I’m still breathing?”
That draws a hearty laugh from the man before you, “you sure they’re not wandering in for the new pastries you set out after every visit?”
Your smile draws wider soft laughter bubbling past your lips, “can’t just put anything on those shelves you know, need to make sure they’re 107 approved – are they,” you question looking down at the untouched dessert still held in his hand.
You try to hold his gaze as he brings your newly baked recipe up to his lips, not letting your eyes drop down to his lips. He must know by now the effect he has on you as his eyes slip shut, lips closing on a hum as he lets the good settle on his tongue.
“So,” you question choked, “how is it – good?”
His eyes slip open, lips upturning on a smirk, “107 approved,” he hums, “just like the baker who baked them.”
Heat floods your cheeks as you smile softly at the man before you, “you think the regulars will like them?”
His chuckle resonates through the small office as he finishes off the small pastry, “if these don’t sell out the first day I'll have Steve drop by to buy them all off of you, I’m sure Morita will work through these within an hour all on his own.”
“Or I could save you the trouble of driving in and just go drop off what doesn’t sell that day, I'd rather it go in someone’s belly then the trashbin out back.”
You can’t quite read the look that crosses over his features and for a moment you wonder if you might have overstepped. “You’re not worried?”
Your brows furrow, “now what would I be worried about Barnes,” you question with a tilt of your head.
“You know what comes with the likes of knowing us, being seen around us, you ain’t worried about that, worried about your name, the shops name being spread around in bad light?” You can’t stop the soft chuckle that leaves your lips, head shaking as you lean it back against the soft cushion of your office chair. “Barnes I have about 8 bikes lined up outside of my shop right now, and its not just any bikes it’s the 107, and they’re out there every first of the month just like they are now – wouldn’t you say I’m past being worried about being seen with you, knowing you?”
There’s another unknowing look that crosses his features and this time you know you’ve overstepped when he begins to speak. “Our bikes lined out there every first of the month speaks volumes to the reputation we’ve built, we’ve instilled fear into our people, it’s know that as long as they don’t cross us they’re taken care of but we catch them slipping and that’s the end for them – you don’t want to be known for knowing us, it’s not good for you.”
Rejection settles over you and like a dog with its tail tucked between your legs you’re pulling a smile forcing out a laugh as you shake your head in agreement. “You’re right,” you say, “y/n,” he tries but you don’t hear it as you push off your chair needing to be out of this office.
“No, you’re right, this is just business, that’s what it’s always been and I guess for a moment I forgot.”
“Y/n,” he tries again as he pushes off his chair wanting to stop you, “shall we go and see if the amount is correct, surely Steve and Sam counted through it already,” you say as you side step him to get the door pulled open.
You’re stepping out into the bakery all eyes on you as you pull a smile for them, “so is it all there,” you question as you step closer to them, Bucky trailing like a looming shadow behind you.
Sam and Steve pull a smile but you can see there questioning gaze behind the kind eyes they give you. “Of course it is sweetheart, you’ve never been wrong with us.”
“Well let’s hope I never am,” you laugh though it sounds forced, “say how was the dessert, is it 107 approved, I’d really like to get them out on my shelves but I need the stamp of approval.”
That seems to ease the growing tension, the room now a light buzz as the men in their earned leather all praise your baked good. “That’s wonderful,” you smile this one not forced, “say Morita would it be okay if sent whatever is left over of the baked goods with your ma, I really wouldn’t want them to go to waste, maybe you can take them to the club with you.”
“You can send whatever you want with ma,” Morita grins, “just set her up with a bill will ya, I'll get it for her at the beginning of the month.”
You’re shaking your head, “it’s on the house, no really,” you add when he gives you a look, “I’d rather it go with your ma knowing it’ll reach you all then to have to chuck them in the trashbin out back.”
Morita lets out air, “are you sure – won't this set you back?”
“You know this isn’t my only shop right? I’d really rather send it with you all, no charge, unless y’all are feeling nice enough to knock a few bucks off for next month,” you add with a grin.
There laughter meets your ear, “we shouldn’t be charging you at all with all that you do for us, and our people,” Bucky speaks up, and you make yourself keep the smile on your lips as you turn to look at him over your shoulder. “It’s business,” you find yourself saying, “you’ve got an image to up keep and people to take care of, I can respect that.”
Bucky wants to say more, to apologize for how his words sounded in the office, but you won’t hear it as you clap your hands together softly, “well If all the money is there, and you’ve enjoyed the sweets and refreshments I really shouldn’t keep you all any longer, surely you all have more important business to get too.”
The group can tell something is off with you, but they don’t push as they all offer to help you clean the mess, “nonsense,” you wave them off, “y’all go ahead, besides cleaning up shop and shelving the new desserts is my way to unwind after a long day.”
“Y/n,” Bucky tries, and you’re looking at him again tired smile on your lips, “it’s alright Barnes, y’all go ahead, I'll see you at the first of the month.”
The brunette doesn’t want to push you any further, hurt your more than he knows he’s hurt you with his words in your office so he sends his men off, his body straggling by your side as you see them all to the door. He turns to you, wanting to offer you something, anything, hell he would take you to the clubhouse right now if it meant he could put a genuine smile on your face.
“Buck, it's okay,” you offer with a hand to his arm, a smile to your lips, “go, I'll see you soon.” You’re turning to go back into the shop before he can get anything else out. The lock sliding into place meeting his ear; it's time to go. He turns to his group, Steve and Sam’s gaze already waiting, “what did you do man?” Bucky shakes his head as he goes to his bike, mounting it; “call Nat and Wanda, I want them to come check on her.”
“Buck what did you -”
“That’s an order Rogers.”
“Bucky was never really known for having a way with words.”
You scoff over the cup of hot chocolate in front of you, “please him never having a way with words, have you seen the women that throw themselves at him and the 107, their clubhouse is packed with them.”
“What Nat means is that he doesn’t really know how to express his concerns around those he loves,” Wanda reiterates with a hand over yours.
You shake your head, finger running along the rim of your mug, “I don’t know Wands maybe I was reading too much into all of this, maybe it has always just been business as regular and I let my feelings cloud my judgement of their visits.”
“If it were just business as usual you really think he would have Steve call me and Wanda to come check on you,” Natasha questions, “he cares about you y/n, and he’s just worried about you getting caught up in his life.”
“It’s not an easy one,” Wanda adds, “there’s always going to be a target on your back, and it's not only the club he’s going to have to worry about then, you’ll also become his focus.”
“And it seems you already are,” Natasha agrees.
The rejection from earlier rears its ugly head as you grab your mug from the register, it was only getting later in the evening and if you were planning on having an early start you’d need to head home soon. “I don’t know girls, while I appreciate him asking the two of you to stop by, he probably only did so to make sure we were okay since I didn’t really give him a chance earlier.”
“Y/n,” Natasha sighs, but you offer her a tired smile, “I’m fine girls really, you can let Buck and the boys know there was no harm done, and it’s like I told them earlier I’m going to see them at the first of the month like I always have, that’s not going to change, business as usual,” you throw in bitterly.
“Y/n,” Wanda repeats with a raised brow, you shake your head, “please drop it, its late and I have an early start tomorrow if I want to get my new recipe plated so I'd really like to get home soon, just tell Bucky that I'm fine, I'll be fine.”
The girls know not to push you, both of them squeezing you tight as you see them out, the door locking behind them as the two make their way down the empty walkway. They round the stop sign at the end of the street, there forms closing in on the three waiting men.
“How was she,” Bucky questions as the two close in on them, Natasha shakes her head, Bucky sighs all but ready to go over there himself but the redhead is stopping him with a hand to his arm. “It’s late, she’s tired, there’s no point in going over there now, she’s as understanding as her stubbornness will allow her to be.”
“Give her a day,” Wanda adds as she slides on behind Sam, “then get your shit together,” Sam mutters as he kicks up his stand. “She’s not as weak as you think she is,” Natasha murmurs as she slips on behind Steve, “if you’re worried about her not being able to handle her own, you're worrying about the wrong thing.”
“Baby I’m fine.” Is the first thing that he says. It’s one of the worst things that he could say when you answer the phone.
“Steve?” “I’m at Memorial.”
“What?” Memorial Hospital? He and Bucky were just going to go and do some check ins with the clubs in the area and hearing that he’s at the hospital is absolutely not what you wanted to hear.
“I got hit, I’m fine okay? I’m fine but I do need you to come and pick me up.” You hear a slight tussle and suddenly Bucky’s voice is filling your ear.
“He has a concussion so he doesn’t really remember the hit. It wasn’t an accident Doll.”
“What exactly does that mean?” You ask as you grab a sweatshirt, hospitals are always freezing, then grab your purse and hurry out the door.
“It means that I saw the whole thing and I know who was driving.” “Does he know?” You ask as you get into your SUV.
“I don’t think so. I’m in the hallways, I don’t want him to know because I don’t need him doing something stupid.” “Who was it Buck?” “Hydra.” You figured. Your phone connects to your car as you start to back out of the driveway.
“I’m on my way.” You tell him, “Stay with him? We’ll talk when I get there.” You tell Bucky who will follow your orders as if they were Steve’s, any of the Howlies will.
“I have Nat outside waiting for you. I don’t want you walking around without protection, not with Hydra lurking and apparently a hit out on Steve.”
“You think it’s that bad?” “I don’t know and I don’t like that.” Bucky tells you and you’re instantly more on alert. “You want me to stay on the phone?” “Can you go back into his room and put the phone on speaker?” You just need to hear his voice, to know that Steve is okay, to know that he’s alive.
“Of course.” You hear him moving before he says, “Steve, your woman is on the phone.” “Baby!” Steve says happily, “Why am I here?” “You were in an accident Punk.” Bucky says patiently, you wonder how many times he’s had to remind Steve that he’s been in an accident.
“I’m on my way Honey.” You tell him,
“Oh good. I miss you.” You can’t help the small smile that pulls at your lips, your husband can be so soft for you sometimes that it almost hurts.
“I miss you too, about five minutes.” You tell Bucky who you hear hum softly, “Steve? What do you remember?” “Leaving you and goin’ with Buck to check on some of groups.” “He didn’t know what year it was or who the President was so the EMT’s made him come to the hospital.” Bucky informs you, you’re not surprised that the EMT’s would make him go to the hospital, those are pretty basic questions, “He didn’t forget about you though. Kept tellin’ everyone that he needed to call his girl.” God you love him.
“That’s good. I don’t think that I’d be okay if he ever forgot me.” You admit as you turn onto the street that the hospital is on, “I can see the hospital.”
“I’ll let you go and let Nat know that you’re here.”
“Thank you.” You tell him hanging up then hop out of your car. You know that Bucky, and Steve if he wasn’t concussed, would have wanted you to stay in your car until Nat met you there but you just want to get to Steve.
“You should be in the car.” Nat’s smoky voice says quietly from a few feet away and you pull your gun on her faster than she can blink.
“I think I’ll manage.” You tell her coolly and she smiles a slow, deadly smile at you.
“Well done. You’re not supposed to bring guns inside a hospital.” “You’re also not supposed to fall in love with the leader of a biker gang when your father is a pastor but I did that too.” You tell her and Natasha laughs.
“Touche.” You tuck the gun back into your bag and hurry into the hospital Natasha close on your heels. Bucky is waiting in the waiting room his helmet in his hands and when he sees you he looks over at the nurse,
“This is Rogers’ wife.” He says and she gives you a nod then pushes a button to open a secure door. You follow Bucky into the ER and down a short hallway then to a room where Steve is sitting on a bed. When he goes to stand you hold out a hand to him
“Don’t you dare Steven Grant Rogers.” The nurse in the room gives a startled laugh and when you look over at her in surprise she says,
“He’s stubborn, where were you this whole time? I could’ve used you.”
“Steve, let the woman do her job.” You scold as Steve pouts over at you.
“Then come hold my hand Baby.” Steve flirts so you make your way to the opposite side of his bed and take his hand. He presses a kiss to the back of your hand while the nurse checks his eyes again,
“Your pupils are looking better but we’re going to do one more CT scan before you can go. You have to stay completely still this time Mr. Rogers.” “He was being stubborn.” Bucky tells you with an eye roll.
“Steve, please behave so that we can go home okay?” You tell him softly and he sighs before you press a soft kiss to his jaw, “I’m going to have to keep you up tonight.” You whisper into his ear and he smirks over at you.
“You’ll still be here when I get back right?” “Yea. I won’t go anywhere without you.” You promise, at least not until he can sleep then you’re going to take care of whoever went after your husband. Steve follows the nurse out of the room and you look over at Bucky.
“Tell me that you’ve got them.” “Sam’s got them.” “Good.” “You want Sam to take care of them?” “No.” Bucky’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise,
“No?” “No. They’re mine.” You tell him fury evident in your voice and he gives you a little smirk.
“I’ll let Sam know to keep him comfortable until you can sneak away from your very possessive and protective husband.”
“As soon as he can sleep I want to take care of it.” You tell Bucky who nods then slips out of the room, his phone to his ear.
When Steve comes back he pulls you to him and kisses you soundly.
“I feel like you and Buck are plotting something.” Steve says softly when he pulls away, he rests his forehead against yours, “You are up to something.” He whispers.
“There’s nothing you need to worry about,” You assure him, your hand carding through his hair at the back of his head, “I’ve got this my Love.”
“What do you have?” He asks,
“This.” You tell him, “You don’t have to worry about it okay?”
“Baby?” “No.” You whisper before pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “No, Steve.” The nurse comes back into the room followed by a man in a white coat.
“Hello, I’m Dr. Johnson. I took a look at the scans, the concussion is minor. Here’s a sheet of instructions and you’re free to go.” He says passing you a couple of papers.
“Wonderful. Thank you.” You tell him and he nods before moving back out of the room. The nurse passes you a sheet on a clipboard and you sign it before handing it back. Then you take Steve’s hand and leave the hospital with him.
“You’re packing right?” He murmurs into your ear and you nod,
“But Nat is outside.” “Good. Where the hell did Bucky go?” “He’s doing me a favor. Don’t worry.” You tell him as Nat falls into step with you on Steve’s other side.
“They’re letting you out?” She asks coolly but you know that she’s just as relieved as you are that he’s okay and they’re letting him go.
“Don’t be too disappointed Natasha.” Steve snarks and she laughs,
“You’re following us home correct?” Natasha nods as you make your way to the car, you usher Steve into the passenger seat before you round the front of the car.
“Bucky said you’re going to take care of it yourself. You sure you want to do that?” “Yes. You won’t change my mind.”
“Okay. I am coming with you.” She says and you nod once before joining Steve in the car. “Now Natasha is in on your secret?” He asks and you start the car before looking over at him. You need to give Nat time to get on her bike,
“It’s nothing you need to worry about right now Steve.” “You’ll tell me later?”
“Yes, once you’re not concussed.” You promise him as Nat starts her bike. You ease out of the parking space and make your way home.
The paper the doctor had given you said that he could sleep. Just to wake him every so often so after Steve falls asleep you slip out of bed, put on some clothes and head back out into the night with Natasha on your six.
The docks are cold and quiet at this time of the night. The lack of sound should be eerie but you just find it comforting. When you make your way into the basement of the large warehouse you’re pleased to see Sam and Bucky there with a man chained to the ceiling, his arms over his head while his feet touch the floor.
“Hood off.” You command, your mask covering the lower half of your face. When the hood is removed the man blinks at you. Then he registers what he’s looking at, the mask across your nose and mouth looks like a skeleton’s, your hair is pulled back and covered by a black hood and he pales.
“No.” “Yes.”
“You’re Lady Death?” “Yes.” You tell him calmly, “And you came for the only thing that I love. You tried to make me a widow, a life for your attempt at his death.” “I’ll tell you who sent me!” The man pleads, “If you don’t kill me I’ll tell you.” “You’ll tell me either way.” You assure him, “They always do.”
And he does.
Then you kill him.
If he’d had his way, if Hydra had had their way Steve would be dead right now and you won’t let that happen.
“Get rid of him.” You tell Bucky and Sam who nod before you go back out into the night.
When you get home Steve is still asleep, thank god. You get ready for bed and slip into your bed next to him.
“He dead?” Steve asks sleepily from next to you.
“Yes.” You don’t bother lying. While he might be the leader of the Howlies you’re his left hand, the one that holds the gun. The police would never look at Steve’s sweet innocent little wife when they’re looking for a killer.
“You didn’t need to do that.” “I protect what’s mine, just as much as you protect what’s yours.” You remind him cupping his face in your hand.
“I love you.”
“And I love you. Now get some more sleep.”
“Getting awful bossy on me Baby.” He teases and you laugh before kissing him again,
“Don’t worry, I like it when you’re the boss better. I’m only stepping up because you were almost killed.” “I’m fine.” “Now. You are my love and my life and no one will take you from me. And anyone who tries won’t get a second chance.” “You are my love and my life.” He tells you before curling his arm around you, “And if you think you’re sneaking off on me again you’ve lost your pretty little mind.”
UHMMM HIIIII this is @valscodblog but her main acc!!
AND IM IN DESPRATE NEED OF HEADCANNONS-LIKE FLUFFY ONES FOR SOAP AND KARLACH.
like-who cooks?? who cleans??? just homey fluffy headcannons <3
love, Val <3
HI PRECIOUS oh you just know how to make a fella happy, thank you for asking about them T_T honestly, i think while they're actively adventuring with the whole party and task force they don't do shit >< like, they're not that irresponsible, there's just always someone who does chores more efficiently, leaving these two ADHD sweethearts to forage, hunt, stay on watch and participate in wood chopping or some other shit requiring a lot of strength and not so much thoughts. but when they somewhat settle down in their own little home...
Two of us wearing raincoats
CW: 2855 words, Karlach x Soap, a bit suggestive in some parts, title from a Beatles song, some self-projecting headcanons, domestic fluff
UPD: corrected some wrong facts.
cooking is definitely in Soap's reign. while scottish cuisine can be extravagant sometimes (i swear, i love scotland for a lot of things, but what the fuck are they eating oh my god T_T), Karlach is definitely not a picky eater and will stuff herself full with whatever her love puts on her plate. the only requirements are for it to have meat and be in large quantities, and those are easily ticked off. however, she actually genuinely likes a lot of dishes Johnny whips out seemingly with random ingredients! always on duty since a very young age and ten years in hell, Karlach barely remembers what a home-cooked meal tastes like, so for her to just smell something cooking in the kitchen or just outside the porch if it's outdoor meal day makes it already the best she's ever had. add the sheer adoration and giddiness she feels whenever Soap takes care of her, and she's right there, a dreamy look in her eyes and tail coiling around Johnny's ankle when he allows Karlach to hug him from behind and steal a bite of the garnish. she can cook, meat especially, but she just never learnt any fun recipes, so she can only watch, learn or guess how to add a little more flavour to a simple steak. unless you want a fried imp on a stick, that's her specialty (tastes awful and it's not her fault).
also, Johnny definitely knows how much Karlach likes seeing him wear an apron and does it as often as he can. it's not as much a sexy thing (although there are plenty times when there's just the apron and he earns himself a hefty slap on that bare ass- okay, we'll discuss that another time, hehe), but that same domestic feeling that they both miss, each for their own reasons. he definitely has the "kiss the chef" one and gets all his tips for good service in kisses and grabby clawed hands squishing his sides while Karlach stays pressed to him from behind.
when Karlach does cook though, Soap is not allowed the same privileges of being handsy on the account of it always ending up in their food burnt. even if she was boiling some eggs for breakfast. Karlach is best girl at everything except self-control around her beloved soldier, doesn't matter if they've been married for thirty years already, she cannot resist his touch, so Johnny's banished to serving plates and salivating over the frying smells and a good view of Karlach's rear.
cleaning, on the other hand, is more of a Karlach's thing, even though they are both shit at it (ADHD go brrr, you know). they both can stay disciplined and ready for duty at all times, but what surrounds them is utter chaos most of the time, which, honestly, only makes their remarkable service all the more impressive. they're just used to it, mugs of tea strategically forgotten on random surfaces only to be conveniently found at the right time (hours later, yes, but Karlach can heat it back up rather quickly lol), clothers scattered around, hanging from chairs in piles so thick that it's uncomfortable to sit on said chairs, dishes stacking up into leaning towers... Karlach gets the dark urge almost always first. probably at some other important task's expence, but she will hyperfocus and scrub the whole house until it's squeaky clean and her back is a bit sore.
however, they both enjoy doing the dishes! for Soap it's an act of service, for Karlach just a prefect mindless task to get her hands busy and let her thoughts wander (and a source for Soap puns, yes), they don't fight for it of course, but sometimes Johnny does them despite having also prepared dinner. he honestly isn't that bothered about splitting every chore fifty/fifty, if Karlach ever raises concern, he just shrugs and tells her he wouldn't let her lift a finger around the house if it was up to him - or that she pulls more weight in other areas (like the gym, lol. does she bench press more than him? she very much might...)
favourite position - cuddled up wherever they find enough space for their two huge bodies to be squished together. pathological cuddlers. will absolutely spend some of their free time just lounging like two couch potatoes, arms locked around each other and - yes, you guessed it - fidgeting. cuddling before sleep, after sex, in the morning, after coming home, when having a bad day, a good day, a neutral day, no day... Soap gets to be little spoon so often and he loves it just as much as pressing up against one particular red tail and holding his palm over the calm engine. getting up in the morning can be tricky since they often get dragged back and cuddled to death by a protesting cuddle monster muttering about five more minutes.
they need, like, an alaska king size bed just so they don't push each other off. absolute menaces to sleep with: it starts so sweet, hands holding, legs tangled up and one thrown over the other's hips, Karlach's tail holding onto Johnny's waist securely... and then they switch sixty sleeping positions, have a three-part breaking dance-off, reenact wars they've been to in characters and exchange a meaningful sign language conversation. all while asleep and blissfully unaware. the amount of times Johnny nearly lost his eye to Karlach's horn or Karlach was almost smothered by Soap's heavy weight plopping right on top of her with every pillow and blanket hogged (they have two extra for each and it still doesn't help)... poor Clive doesn't get to sleep in bed with them smply because it's safer for him to stay on a beside table.
enthusiastic house remodelers! Soap is very crafty and likes to build and asemble furniture from scratch, and Karlach wants their shared home to be perfect for their tastes - she knows all too well what it's like to be homeless. changing interior design and moving furnitue almost every half a year is fun for them, they never run out of ideas how to make their home even more homey! they almost do not argue when renovating, which is a bit surprising given they're both hot-headed, but they definitely resolve any disagreements right there on the floor of an empty room or pressed to a soon-to-be-painted wall.
fixing shit is Soap's duty. Karlach gets frustrated easily when something broken isn't getting fixed easily, so even if she knows what to do well, she might worsen the situation by raging against a shaky table or something.
breakfast in bed for both of them. they can never predict who's getting up first, so whoever wakes up buzzing (or just falls off the bed first) and is lucky to escape the cuddle monster definitely takes their time to pamper the other, cut some butt heart-shaped sandwiches or make a loopy smiley face out of eggs and bacon/sausages. both avid tea drinkers even though Soap prefers coffee. he just is constantly thirsty (in all ways).
snack beasts. they are constantly chewing on something, partially because it's a fidgeting thing, partially because they need their sugar fill. the whole house is filled with snack stashes, sweet nuts in little bowls, paper bags with cookies, berries always in stock... absolutely steal each other's snacks and offer to share without even thinking, it's an automatic thing no matter how deep in thoughts/busy they are. Karlach is more of a sugary and sweets snacker, so she often has sugar crumbs in the corners of her mouth, cookies clutched in her big palm, a honey jar with a stick she dips for a taste freqiently; Soap on the other hand is mostly after everything chewy, not so important whether it's sweet or not. probably has some chewy sticks/toys in addition to constant snacking. like a wee puppy with growing teeth.
Soap prefers baths to showers and Karlach does have fun with a longer soak as well (especially if bubbles and/or her hot husband are involved, and yes, it's always steamy with her. literally, she can still boil the water if she stays long enough). absolutely wash together most of the time, or at least share the bathroom before going to bed, one of them showering and the other one pissing/brushing their teeth. will hold hands when Karlach's in the tub and Soap is on the toilet and vice versa.
despite their love for a good cuddle lie-in, they definitely prefer active recreation and hobbies: hikes, sports, dancing, rock climbing, exploring, town fairs browsing, woodworking... except for some very low-energy days (executive dysfunction is no joke) they will be out, getting up to some safer-than-war adventures. definitely go camping a lot, also try to invite their mates too even though not everyone is so enthusiastic. but they can have fun at home too, they will most definitely sunbathe and go for swims in the river/little lake not far from home (even though it might turn into shell hunting or cave exploring. or waterfall sex. mostly waterfall sex.) or have quiet dance nights just in the living room.
absolutely run out under the rain to jump in puddles, splash each other, roll in the mud and kiss while they're soaking and yelling at the thunder excitedly. just another benefit of hardly getting cold - the rain evaporates from Karlach's skin and creates their own cloud of mist to pretend like they're two thunderstorm ghosts stalking through the small village. they are the worst influence on the neighbourhood kids and are absolutely responsible for the little tieflings and other children coming home covered in mud and dripping on mam's carpet.
a little (not little) extra for modern!AU :)
Karlach hates vacuuming solely because of the sound, and yes, she can still hear it even if she blasts music in her headphones or on the stereo ungodly loudly. it just irritates her to the point of raging (misophonia said hi), she'd rather sweep the floors manually or just let Soap take over. she is a little self-conscious about it though, so he has to play up his knight in grey sweatpants with no underwear on shining armor act and play-fight for the bloody vacuum until she feels better and leaves him to do the chore.
training is a family activity! they obviously go to gym together as much as possible (oh Soap is there only to show off his buff girlfriend and watch her excersise to the point where they have to excuse themselves for a bathroom break), but they have a little makeshift gym at home, like, maybe just a treadmill and some small equipment for days when they don't feel like going out. actually, i think they have a little gym even in Faerûn, that one was definitely built mostly by Soap with help from Karlach. it's nothing fancy, but since it is somewhat a novelty (very different from the usual training grounds with dummies and everything) they probably have neighbours and local kids/teens come and use it in exchange for thoughtful and heart-warming gifts. Karlach talks everyone's ears off about how crafty her husband is, and said husband walks around with chest puffed out like a bloody turkeycock.
they actually fight over music despite having similar tastes! but they have different opinions on when is what soundtrack appropriate. you cannot tell me they do not enjoy oldschool rock (and not just rock) (yes this might be just a wee bit self-indulgent BUT YOU HEARD THAT THEME IN KARLACH'S AVERNUS ENDIND RIGHT???), like, two-thirds of their playlist are from the period of late 1950s to 1990s. Price definitely approves. they are definitely both metalheads, perhaps not the most "true" ones, but they would get a vinyl record player to listen to some Iron Maiden or Gojira (please metalheads don't kill me if this is a poser thing to write, i respect the genre just not my style-) BUT they will fight over what should be playing in the car/while on the bikes/in the gym. they both don't like to sit with headphones on when together, so "each listens to their own" isn't a solution. and yes, they are a bit obnoxious about blasting their shit with windows open, but they try to remember to be respectful...
definitely obligatory listening to scottish bands, Simple Minds and others close to top on their spotify. Karlach would probably be curious to look for obscure bands and discover indie artists and share found gems with Johnny. also - yes this is also very personal, but i sincerely think it suits them - they love Ren (yes, he's welsh, i know), Karlach a bit more probably since Soap's lifestyle and views contradict Ren's message at some points, but they both know all the lyrics and get emotional when listening to his music. also, like, boxing to his music is the best outlet for everything pent up.
they both are so bad at grocery shopping, oh my god T_T they are absolutely prime victims of flashy marketing, eye-hurting wrappers, misleading deals with yellow labels and supermarkets' floorplans. Soap is a lost cause, Karlach sends him to fetch some milk and he comes back with a full bag of sweets, steak "for the weekend" and gum with the transerring kids' tattoos inside. it's a miracle if he remembered about milk AND brought the right one (he's definitely the type to buy some yummy-looking bannana-soy-whatever-overpriced-bullshit when they needed simple cow milk for masala tea). Karlach is slightly better simply because she gets just so overwhelmed by the choice that it's easier for her to stick to a poorly scribbled list of things she's used to. actually gets upset when she feels like she wants just a little something extra, but can't figure out even what aisle to look at to satisfy her craving. even worse if she goes grocery shopping when hungry (quickly becomes hangry and might call Johnny for emotional support).
skincare is a joke to them. the only times they do that is when they see some stupid animal-print face masks or when Soap gets tricked by packaging and smells and buys some chocolate body scrub with red pepper thinking it's pudding (first he eats a spoonful, finally discovering that it's not pudding at all, then tries it on his whole body to see if he'll smell like chocolate after, and he SWEARS swallowing that shit wasn't as painful as feeling it burn his asscrack and- yes this might be from my experience too). they have a home spa date and clown around the whole time, wearing fluffy robes, eating cucumbers off each other's eyes, lounging around with fancy wine glasses filled with beer and gossiping about neighbours. take a hundred silly pictuers and decide that their favourite part of a spa day is when they wash everything off in the shower together and have sex. a lot of it. nothing more arousing than your man with sparkly pink eyepatches stuck to his freshly shaven mug.
haircare is a whole another story, though! they are both very proud of their hairstyles and want them to look good, so they do frequently shave off outgrown parts (often do that for each other without going to a hairdresser) and style it. Soap's hair tends to get flat so he will worry about volume, while Karlach (who i strongly believe to be blasian) needs oils and moisturisers for her hair. it's pretty short and only mildly wavy, so not the most troublesome to keep healthy, but she does look out for it. also for her horns too, it's canon that she uses oil to care for those babies!
while fixing stuff around the house is still mostly Soap's duty, fixing their bikes is Karlach's passion. she might actually have a whole garage in modern!AU, but even if she doesn't, she still spends hours elbows-deep in machine oil and grease, tinkering with the engines and polishing their shiny steel steeds. Soap often has to come get her out of her hyperfocus to have a bite and a cuddle-smooch (or more) session on the garage petrol smelling old couch.
watching football with beer and smoking (and possbly all the mates interested) is a must. they are so very yelling at the TV and slapping each other's thighs when there's a dangerous moment - and kissing when their team scores. probably the only thing on TV they will never interrupt with getting handsy, they're both too invested lol. god forbid someone in the room roots for another team than them, this will be such a heated arguement that outsiders might think there's a murder about to happen (it never strains their friendship with anyone).
luckily for Soap, modern!Karlach will not melt snow around herself, so they can and will go snowboarding at least once a year. he absolutely gets a kick out of teaching her, and their high body temperature is a welcome feature on such vacations. however, they still wear those stupid lovers-cojoined mittens on walks even though their hands never get cold.
whew, that was a ton of word vomit, haha, thank you for your ask! they are SO appreciated as well as likes, reblogs and just the love i see here for my precious explosive adhd meow meows T_T feel free to request more! also not just about them, i will gladly write for other COD or BG3 characters. any pairing, also x reader or x OC, why not. i need to get my english writing skill up, feels so weird to see it compared to my first language texts...
