#bucky x leah | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rosepetalsinwinter · 1 year

Text

Meant to Be — Bucky Barnes (5)

Chapter 5 — Fie Ce-o Fi

Pairing: mafia!bucky x innocent!reader

Word count: 10,335

Summary: Preparations for the wedding have begun. How is the girl dealing with everything, and just what is James Barnes up to?

Warnings: depressive thoughts, language, brief violence and torture.

Note: Buckle in for a long one. Excuse any mistakes, I will fix them as I find them. Barely edited, because I wanted it out!

Welp. Let me know what you guys think. 💜💜

Ao3│Wattpad│Ko-fi

Main Masterlist│Series Masterlist│Series Playlist

Chapter 4 — Chapter 5 — Chapter 6

I saw grief drinking a cup of sorrow and called out, "It tastes sweet, does it not?" "You've caught me," grief answered, "and you've ruined my business. How can I sell sorrow when you know it's a blessing?"

— Jalaluddin Rumi

April 27th, 2018

A week. Was that enough time to plan a wedding? The girl didn't think so; neither did her wedding planner, who swore up a storm when she learned as much.

"Seven days?" the petite Japanese woman exclaimed when Fleur broke the news. "Seven days to plan a wedding? Seven days to plan the wedding of the century?"

For some reason, Leah Ishikawa, the wedding planner, kept getting stuck on the seven days. The girl was unfazed, however, having had the time to undergo a similar attack in the morning.

"Mr. Burgundy told me to encourage you to work closely with Mrs. Winnifred Barnes and Miss Rebecca," said Fleur in her thick accent, opting to take charge of the conversation since it was clear the girl was unable to. "I understand they have already done a lot of the work. Mr. Burgundy wants you to make sure all of the bride's expectations are met."

The girl was curled up on the couch in her room, listening idly to the conversation while she stared out the window. She briefly heard Leah mention a photoshoot of some sort but was promptly distracted by the guards making their rotations on the grounds.

Security had tightened immensely since her talk with her father that morning. He placed guards at all the entrances, and their job was to keep an eye on her. The one outside her room was particularly annoying, calling her "kiddo" and making jokes that all seemed to land short. He introduced himself as "Clint Barton, skilled marksman and your babysitter for the week." Clint was to follow the girl with two men of his choosing if she ever felt the need to make an appearance in public.

She did not. However, it was not up to her because, right away, Leah loudly declared that they were "going shopping."

They arrived at an exclusive Italian fashion house, whose name she couldn't pronounce, and the girl tried on multiple dresses of varying colours and lengths. She sat in the backseat of an escalade, with the child lock on, while Clint used her father's card to pay.

Back at the house, she stared numbly at the wall while light flashed in her peripheral, and a photographer asked her to smile.

She wanted to cry.

"For the invitations," Leah said. "I heard a rumour the Patriarch of All Romania was specifically asked to attend, so you better smile."

The girl mustered all the energy she could and did as asked. The artificial smile stayed on her face for the next few days. She made small talk with the esthetician lasering the hair off her body, and joked with the ladies at the spa who were giving her a manicure. The girl even spoke personally with the baker decorating her cake, telling him she wanted "something sweet and romantic, to symbolize the love she shared with her fiancé."

Her father's warning loomed a constant shadow over her. "Don't give me any reason to remind you."

The threat to her best friend's life kept the girl from showing her real emotions. A crippling fear coursed through her veins, and the pit in her gut that never seemed to go away became as prominent as ever. She spent her days smiling through several appointments with various professionals—florists, caterers, and musicians. She spent her nights curled up on the bean bag in the tree house, dreaming of her brother, waking up drenched in sweat in the aftermath.

Despite the girl's bleak reality, the full force of her situation did not hit her until a few days before the wedding, during her first dress fitting.

"Deep breath in."

The girl didn't know how she could possibly breathe in more. Her lungs were already at max capacity.

Maria Rambeau was a big name in the wedding business. She was a majestic sight to behold, with grey streaks in her stylishly short hair. In her prime, Maria dressed celebrities such as Amal Clooney and Elizabeth Taylor. The girl was supposed to be appreciative—excited, even, by her presence, but she could only manage a tight-lipped smile and muted enthusiasm, which she blamed on nerves before the big day. Maria Rambeau's team took over her entire room, hauling out long racks of white dresses of all styles and shapes.

The girl gave them free rein to put her in whatever they deemed fit. She had no energy left to be picky. Her mood immediately shifted when they put her in the first dress. She stiffened in front of the mirror, one foot on the raised podium and the other curling around the soft carpet.

She was wearing white. Unsure why that detail stuck out, it was all she could focus on. She tried on a second dress, indifferent to the heated discussion around her. More lace, less lace. A-line, satin, ball gown, taffeta. It all became a blur.

Fleur placed a gentle hand on the girl's elbow, which she barely felt, and helped her down the podium. They measured her once more, cinching her waist, asking her to stand straighter. Fleur caught the girl's blank look and offered a smile that went unreturned.

She walked up to the podium after trying on what felt like the thousandth dress of the day. The entire room fell silent, so she turned toward the mirror to see what was wrong.

She looked pretty. But, of course, she did. The girl had lost weight in the last couple of days due to all the stress, making her look frail. She was done up like a barbie doll, all prim and proper. With all signs of sleep concealed, an unnatural blush on her cheek, and elongated lashes, she no longer looked like herself. Money was prone to do that to a person.

Gone were the lines around her mouth whenever she smiled. Gone was the spark in her eyes that came with the feeling of being alive and free. She wasn't free, and she certainly did not feel alive.

The dress was pretty too. Long, flowy, tight, and big. It stuck to the girl like a second skin, letting her leg peek out, just barely teasing the apex of her thigh. She grabbed the strapless neckline and pulled. It was tight, with no chance of falling, though she could not help but fear it anyway.

Melancholy struck out of nowhere—Dove, with her infectious smile and bold ideas. She would laugh at the girl if she could see her now.

Maybe it was the wishful thinking of two young girls—two naïve girls—to want a wedding together. Dove was supposed to marry first—an impromptu wedding off the coast of an island city, on a stolen (read: borrowed) yacht. During the bouquet toss, Dove planned to hurl the flowers straight at her friend's face, and as a bridesmaid, the girl would have no choice but to honour the tradition; and marry.

A year later, the girl would marry somewhere "romantic" and "old" (like her soul, according to Dove). Their kids would grow to become friends, and the two would live as neighbours with their respective husbands by their sides.

Wishful thinking, as she mentioned before, of two naïve girls. It all seemed so impossible now. So unreal. Like a dream or a fleeting mirage.

When she was a little girl, her brother walked her down an imaginary aisle to marry her imaginary husband. She had long since grown out of that childish phase, yet still, even years later, the girl could not help the thread of longing that pulled at her heart from the idea.

She was in no hurry to admit to anyone that she had planned her wedding in between daydreams. Just her and her betrothed, under the night sky, mimicking the palace of mirrors that emperor Shah Jahan built for his beloved.

How foolish.

The crowd mistook the girl's quiet sniffles as a positive reaction, when in reality, she was dangerously teetering the edge of dissociation, half stuck in her dreams and half in her nightmares.

Rambeau, teetering the edge of seventy-six, took slow steps towards the girl and placed a veil over her head.

"Oh, goodness! You look gorgeous!" Maria exclaimed, clapping her hands like a child. The future Mrs. Barnes made the most beautiful bride.

The girl sniffed again and wiped a tear from under her eye. So, naturally, the entire room erupted in cheers of approval because what else could she be crying about, if not in happiness over her upcoming nuptials?

She was tired, achy, and sad, barely able to breathe in the dress. She wanted nothing more than to get out of the constricting fabric.

"This one," she demanded desperately, yearning for the torment to end. "I want this one!"

And as anticipated, no one complained. How could they? It was the perfect dress in their eyes, and she was the perfect bride.

"Oh!" exclaimed one of the designers. "It's a perfect fit too! We won't need to do much altering."

The girl couldn't breathe right, but she decided against saying anything. She just wanted the day to be over.

A knock sounded at the door, and Fleur, who had been a quiet and passive observer till then, ran to open it. She had her eyes trained on the floor throughout the entire ordeal, choosing to keep her opinions to herself. Perhaps it was because they weren't favourable to the majority of the room. No one wanted to hear that the fitting was a waste of time, that the bride didn't care much to walk down the aisle in a white dress, if at all.

"Mr. Burgundy? Come in," said Fleur. "Your daughter was just finishing up."

Danial Burgundy's presence filled the entire space, making it feel much smaller than it was. He nodded to the people occupying the room, then extended his hands towards Rambeau.

"I take it the fitting went well," Danial observed.

"Beautifully," replied Maria. "Don't know where you've been hiding her."

Danial shrugged. "Can never be too careful." His demeanour was casual, but the implication was anything but.

Maria seemed a smart woman and easily took the hint. "That is true. I always thought your wife was the most beautiful bride I ever dressed, but your daughter easily surpassed her."

The mention of her mother's wedding surprised the girl.

Danial nodded in acknowledgement. "Speaking of, I'd like a moment alone with her."

This was ridiculous. The room was starting to spin now, and it was becoming harder to breathe. The girl wanted out.

The room cleared as quickly as lightning. Maria's entire team was gone in seconds, leaving behind all their supplies. Fleur gave the girl a warning look before making her way out as well, shutting the door behind her.

"You look..." Danial began, unable to adequately put into words all that he was feeling.

"Different?" supplied the girl.

"Yes. But it's not your—"

"—My style," she finished for him. I know."

Danial nodded nervously. "Yes, well, you look good. Pretty. Beautiful."

The girl did not bother giving him a reply. Her mind was still stuck on her former life. Like a broken record, she found herself going back in time when things were different. And how cruel, wishing for something she could no longer have.

Four years of her life wasted, gone down the drain. What did her school think happened to her? She had a life in Vancouver, a job, friends, a routine—now she had nothing. Did anyone notice she was gone? Did Dove believe whatever lie she was fed about the girl's whereabouts? She would never find out. Just like she would never get to walk down the stage and receive her degree.

Though, the girl would be doing a similar thing tomorrow. She would walk down the aisle instead of a stage, would stand in front of a priest and her fiancé instead of the chancellor and the entirety of her graduating class. Instead of a degree and a new job, she would receive a kiss and a lifelong prison sentence.

"Your mother would have loved to see you like this. She always wanted you to get married," said Danial.

The girl blinked, briefly taken by surprise. "I assumed differently. I thought she'd be too busy having the time of her life in the Bahamas to even think about me."

Hurt flashed through her father's face so quickly she was sure she imagined it. "She'd still want to be there for the big day," he insisted.

"Okay," the girl said simply, not believing her father but wanting to end the conversation. She turned away, mindlessly eyeing her reflection in the mirror.

"I haven't given you a wedding present yet," Danial told her.

The girl scoffed. He was joking, surely. "I don't need a present," she replied blandly.

"There must be something," he teased, "that you want."

"I don't want to marry a monster," her heart screamed. "I want to be free." But those were unrealistic things to ask. Then a thought hit her. "I spent the past five years working toward my degree."

Her father stood behind her, towering over her frame in the reflection. "What are you asking?" he demanded sternly. Perhaps he knew her train of thought. They were, after all, much to her dismay, of the same blood.

"I'm asking for one day. To walk the stage, say goodbye to my old life." She straightened her shoulders, unwilling to back down this time. "I want to graduate. That is what I want for the wedding present."

"No." Not the most surprising response, but irritating nonetheless.

"It's only a day," she countered. "Twenty-four hours. That's all I'm asking."

Danial clenched his jaw and flexed his hands. "No," he declared.

His second refusal felt like a slap. Tears of resentment gathered in her eyes. "You're not being fair. I've done everything you asked."

"Life isn't fair," he retorted.

"Papa, please." The girl didn't mean to call him that. It just slipped out in her most vulnerable state.

The ice around Danial's heart began to melt. She had not called him that in almost ten years—since the decline of their relationship. To hear it after so long was like a punch to his gut. In his surprised state, Danial let his daughter's plea seep through his defences—he deserved it—and let himself soak in her pain and grief. White, hot guilt clawed up his spine, but he stomped it before it could take root.

"No," Danial said again, more decided in his answer than before. He turned on his heel and walked out of the room before the first tear could leave her eye and drop to the floor. Danial bid farewell to his old friend and sent her back in. Why couldn't she have asked for diamonds instead? He decided he needed a drink.

Back in the room, a crowd gathered once more. "Now," said one of the assistants, oblivious to the torment the girl was going through, "let's see what we can do about getting you some matching lingerie."

The girl smiled through the tears threatening to fall down her face. She supposed she would always be one of those who dream. And her dreams would have to be enough because whoever said that "dreams always come true" was a goddamn liar.

May 3rd, 2018

He woke with a shout. Cold seeped through his clothes and into his skin, making him shiver violently.

"Fuck!" he shouted, pulling the covers away from his body. He ran a hand over his eyes, wiping the water from his face. "What the fuck?"

Bucky glared up at Steve, who stood next to Bucky with a shit-eating grin. "Rise and shine, beautiful."

"Fuck you, Rogers," Bucky grumbled in defeat, letting himself fall back onto the mattress. "Was the ice water necessary?" he asked, annoyed.

"I called your name five times," Steve defended. "You shouldn't have gotten piss drunk if waking up in the morning was going to be a problem."

Bucky rolled his eyes, then rolled out of bed, discarding his wet shirt for a dry one. He immediately stumbled to the kitchen and dry swallowed a couple of ibuprofen, groaning when his head pounded in response. "Shit. My head."

"I did warn you. If you remember." Steve handed Bucky a glass of cold water, which he promptly gulped down. "Sometime before your ninth or tenth shot."

"Can a man not enjoy his bachelor party without getting shit in return?!" Bucky snapped irritably. Images from last night bombarded him, flashes of light and colour, sweaty skin against his own, and wandering hands over his muscles—A flash of blonde hair and red lips. His head pounded to the beat of the bass, mimicking whatever sound must have been playing at the club.

"Geez. You need to get laid." Steve laughed when Bucky shot him a glare. A lesser man would have cowered under that look, but Steve knew his friend would never hurt him. They shared a bond stronger than family.

"I would never," Bucky sternly reminded his friend. Despite all his flaws and shortcomings, the mafia man was proud to say he was a faithful lover. He would never disrespect his fiancé by cheating on her, even if he had yet to meet the girl.

"How long has it been since you..." Steve let his words trail off, but the question was obvious.

Bucky started a pot of coffee, taking out two mugs. "Too long," he scoffed, leaning back against the counter. He crossed his arms and glared at the ceiling. "Since that thing with Rollins a month ago."

Tensions had been high among the men since that day, and Bucky started spending more time in his office than in his bed. There was no time between all the chaos for Bucky to take a girl to bed. There was always someone that needed to be dealt with, always a problem that needed solving. Then, news of his engagement made local headlines. Bucky definitely couldn't take a girl to bed after that.

"Yeah," Steve murmured, "that whole thing was a shit show."

Bucky rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck. "Can't wait till that bastard is rotting six feet under." He reached behind him and poured the finished coffee for himself and Steve.

Steve grabbed the small jar of sugar from the counter, then reached for a spoon. Bucky was quick. He slammed the half-open drawer shut and plucked a clean spoon from the sink. Steve almost saw the device he hid there. Bucky would need to be more careful.

"Take this instead," he offered. Bucky didn't bother with an explanation. Nothing he could say would convince Steve.

Steve paused a beat before relenting. He knew his friend was hiding something; he also knew he would find out sooner than later what it was.

"Milk?" Bucky asked though he knew the answer.

"Just a little." Steve made his coffee just how he liked it and set it on the table. "Hey, at least you'll be getting some tonight." And they had moved on.

"Tonight?" Bucky questioned, taking a sip of his Italian Roast. Black, just the way he liked it. Then it hit him. Yeah, he was definitely getting some. He chuckled and shook his head. "Doubt she'll let me try anything the second we meet. I'll probably have to wait for the honeymoon."

"Yeah?" Steve smirked. "When's that?"

"The sixth. It's a Sunday. Three days after the reception." Yes, it was quick and hasty, but Danial Burgundy insisted, and his own father was no help. "Just hurry up and pop out a couple of children, why don't you?" Danial Burgundy and the older Barnes had laughed, but Bucky didn't find the idea as amusing. While he respected Danial, he was in no position to tell Bucky what to do.

Bucky ran a hand over his face and scoffed. "The fucking reception. Don't know how I'll survive it." The last thing he wanted was to be paraded around his father's friends like some zoo animal.

You only get married once, Buck. "You could try to look forward to it," Steve reprimanded. Between the two friends, he was mostly the more level-headed one.

"I am looking forward to it," Bucky smirked, wiggling his brows for effect. "A lot."

Steve frowned as if Bucky had personally offended him. "I'm not talking about the honeymoon, punk. Have some respect for the missus."

Bucky only smiled wider. "You haven't seen her yet, have you?"

"No, but you haven't either," Steve pointed out.

Bucky just shrugged with a smug grin as if he knew something Steve didn't.

"No." Steve's eyes widened. "You fucker. When?"

Bucky mimicked zipping his lips shut. "A magician never reveals his secrets."

"Fuck that. I thought your dad forbade you."

Bucky shrugged again.

"When?" Steve demanded.

"Exactly a week ago. I had some business with Danial, and I just happened to see little Burgundy walk out of his office in a tiny two-piece."

"Well, shit!"

Bucky smirked wider. He pushed off the wall he was leaning against and went to his room to grab the black manilla folder containing his fiancé's information.

He returned to find Steve sitting in the breakfast nook, polishing an apple against his shirt. "Here." Bucky tossed the manilla toward his friend, who promptly flicked through it.

"Woah!" Steve's eyes grew wide. "She's pretty."

"She's fucking gorgeous," Bucky smugly agreed.

"Can't believe she's a Burgundy," Steve expressed, eyes flicking over the girl's picture.

Bucky hummed in agreement. There she was, Bucky's fiancé, his wife-to-be, wearing a sensible pair of pants with a loosely fitted henley. Nothing special. It was her smile, all soft and inviting, that made her irresistible. He desperately wanted the girl's attention directed at him instead of the nondescript book in her hand. Bucky wanted to see her smile in the sunlight instead of through a thin piece of paper; he wanted a taste to see if she was as sweet as she looked. He wanted her swollen lips wrapped around his—

"She's got nice eyes."

Bucky scratched the back of his neck. He really needed to get laid. "Uh, yeah, she does. By the way, what would Sharon say about you admiring my girl?" Bucky teased.

Steve went deathly still before the corners of his mouth lifted in an arrogant smirk. "You wouldn't fucking dare, asshole. I'd cut your tongue out."

Bucky burst into a fit of laughter. "You get real fucking scary when it comes to your wife."

Steve merely smiled.

The shrill ringing of Bucky's phone interrupted the candid moment between the two friends. Bucky only briefly glanced at the caller ID before his smile dropped and his expression hardened.

"This is Barnes," he answered gruffly.

Even Steve Rogers straightened his shoulders at Bucky's tone. It was bewildering how quickly Bucky could go from a carefree young man to a hardened crime boss.

"Who?" Bucky seethed in response to the person on the other line. "Motherfucker!" He slammed the table with his palm and swallowed thickly, attempting to control his reaction. "When?"

Bucky swore again at the answer. "If you let him out of your fucking sight for even a second, Razor, I'll gut you and feed you to the fish. Understood?" he snapped, ending the call once Razor voiced agreement.

"What happened?" Steve broke the silence after a brief moment of pause. He knew the call meant nothing good but wanted to hear it himself.

"I have to go," Bucky offered as a response. He took long strides towards his room, hastily changing out of his nightclothes and into a clean suit. Bucky didn't bother with a tie. He would have to take it off anyway.

He retrieved his Colt 1911 from his dresser, along with his rings. The Colt belonged to his father, who gave it to Bucky on his eighteenth birthday. And the ring...? There was something to be said about the surprise on his enemy's face when a mediocre punch opened their skin, letting blood flow everywhere—Not that Bucky ever threw mediocre punches. After all, he was trained in martial arts from a young age.

Steve walked in when Bucky was tucking his gun in the waistband of his trousers. "What happened?" he asked once more.

"Rollins happened."

"Good or bad?"

"Both," Bucky replied. "Three of my men are dead."

"Okay," Steve raised an eyebrow. "That's bad."

"We have the guy who did it," Bucky finished.

"Rollins?"

Bucky shook his head. "One of his rat bastards."

"That's still good, right?" Steve asked, confused why Bucky was so upset about the win.

Bucky's voice lowered in a mix of empathy and regret. "Phil's gone."

Steve plopped himself down onto Bucky's bed. "How?"

"Knife through the chest."

Steve clutched his hair with white knuckles and groaned lowly. "Those fuckers."

Ever since the two mobsters met Phil four years ago, he became a brother to them. And while he worked for the Barnes Mafia, he was also loyal to the Rogers'.

Steve composed himself and stood on shaky legs. "I'm coming with you," he announced, determined in his efforts.

"No, you're not," Bucky scoffed, putting on a pair of loafers.

"You can't stop me," Steve warned. "I won't let those bastards get away with this!"

"And you think I will?" Bucky suddenly exploded, losing the last of his temper. He was just as upset as Steve over their friend's death. Bucky grabbed Steve by the shoulders and pulled him close. "I'll make every last one of them pay. I swear to you, Stevie, those motherfuckers will get what they deserve. But I need you here."

Steve opened his mouth to argue, but Bucky interrupted him.

"Someone needs to plan the funeral. Phil deserves a proper goodbye."

Steve let his shoulders slump in defeat. He knew Bucky was right, yet he tried to convince him again. "You've got a wedding to attend in a few hours."

Bucky playfully shoved his friend away. "And who can guarantee the groom is punctual, if not the best man?"

"Yeah," Steve finally relaxed, though Phil's death was still fresh on his mind. An unfortunate consequence of their lifestyle. "You know I've got your back, punk."

"Asshole," Bucky returned without hesitation.

"Pussy."

"Bitch."

"Son of a bitch."

"Hey!" Bucky exploded, wagging an accusatory finger. "Don't bring my ma into this."

"Speaking of your ma," Steve continued smoothly, "she is going to be pissed as fuck if you get blood in your nails."

Bucky shrugged, grabbing his keys from the dresser. "I won't. I promise. I've got men for that."

There was blood everywhere, not that he could be bothered by it. One look at the man tied to the chair in front of him made Bucky forget his promise to Steve. His hands were bloodied in seconds.

Razor left a while ago, opting to give his boss some privacy. Since then, the dark basement had been filled with small whimpers and muffled screams. Bucky was unsatisfied. He swung his arm in a swift right hook and laughed when he received only a minuscule groan as a reaction. "You're no fun," Bucky teased. He reached for his gun, smiling as the man struggled against his restraints. "Scared?" Bucky mocked. "You shouldn't be."

Bucky placed his gun on the small table to his left, waiting for the man to relax before bending down and retrieving a knife from his ankle. It was long and slender—sturdy in his hands, and perfect for carving.

"I hear you like knives." Bucky smirked at the look of horror that crossed the man's face. "I don't see the appeal, personally. There're guns, swift and clean—kind of loud, but they don't leave a huge mess. You want to be discreet? Poison works wonders. You don't know you're dying until you're dead. But knives? They just seem excessively messy."

The man in the chair stiffened.

"I wonder what all the fuss is about," Bucky mused, running a finger along the sharp blade. He sucked his bottom lip in contemplation, releasing it with a pop. "Why don't I find out?" And Bucky brought the weapon down on the man's leg, smiling when the scream he was looking for finally reached his ears.

He quickly retrieved the blade, slamming it into its new home in the man's other leg. There was nothing to be done about the blood. Bucky would no doubt receive a swift tongue lashing from his mother about it, but he could still fulfill his other promise to Steve.

Bucky would make every last one of them pay, starting with the rat bastard in front of him.

May 3rd, 2018

She woke to the sweet smell of maple. A smile immediately graced her sleepy face, and she stretched her arms above her head, contorting her body to eliminate any aches or soreness from the night before. A joint cracked, maybe two, and she sighed in relief.

The girl could smell maple and... cinnamon, was it? The aroma permeated the room, making her sink deeper into the soft mattress. Indistinctly, a soft melodic voice reached her ears.

"What language is that?" she wondered.

Fleur almost dropped the tray of food she was holding. Her wide eyes narrowed in a faux glare. "You scared me."

"It's not french," the girl observed. She tried to remember the words in her dazed state. "Sounds slavic.ˈDrage wo t͡sto ˈmisliɫəm? Sokovian, maybe."

Fleur placed the tray on the edge of the bed with unnecessary force. "It was nothing. Here."

The girl let out a small yawn and raised herself on her elbows. "It sounded beautiful." She gave Fleur her version of what she hoped was a genuine smile. "I had a Sokovian friend in school."

"You talk too much," Fleur chastised. "Eat."

"Wait!" The girl urgently grabbed Fleur to stop her from leaving. "Eat with me."

"No." Fleur pulled her arm away. "I have a lot to do. I have to pack a bag for you, and—"

"Please? I don't want anything to go to waste." Her eyes were wild with need, and Fleur must have seen the despair swirling behind the girl's bright irises because she relented.

The two sat side by side and drank from the same cup of hot chocolate. The girl ate a piece of fruit and soaked some of the bread in the hot chocolate, at which Fleur raised a perfectly arched brow.

"Your hair looks almost red in the sun."

Fleur touched her head. "No, it doesn't," she replied fiercely. "It's blonde. Have you ever seen a red-haired french person before?"

"Izgleda da ne." I guess not, the girl murmured in Sokovian.

"You have an affinity for languages or something?" Fleur asked casually.

"Or something," the girl answered. "I mentioned my friend. I learned french from him, some Sokovian too. Also, I wanted to travel the world for Investigative Journalism. It made sense to learn more languages." She shrugged a shoulder. "What a waste."

"Not completely. You could continue after your marriage."

"Not likely."

The two ate in relative silence, taking much longer than needed to finish a simple meal, and bartered meaninglessly until the last crumb was wiped clean. And even then did not move, satisfied for a time with being in each other's company.

May 3rd, 2018

She thought she knew privilege—had seen the dirty reality of it beneath the many layers—but she was merely ignorant of its candidness. The wealth she found herself surrounded by was incomparable to the previous advantages granted to her for being a Burgundy.

The girl stumbled upon exiting the private elevator, surprised to find herself in a foyer. Then she noticed the view, and her legs almost gave out. She should have expected this would be no ordinary hotel—but perhaps her expectations were askew if she presumed to find herself in a small one-bedroom, much like what she lived in when she left home.

The girl looked down and saw her reflection staring back at her in the marble. The place was so big she was worried she would get lost. The attendant's voice went through one ear and out the other. The girl only managed to catch a few details. Two floors, five-bed, six-bath, a lounge and a private terrace, among other things. She wondered how much it cost.

She must have voiced her previous thought because the attendant smiled brightly. "Seventy-five per night."

She gasped in surprise. "Seventy-five hundred?" She couldn't imagine anyone spending that much money on a single hotel room.

The attendant frowned, clearly offended. "No. It's seventy-five thousand per night. Your fiancé booked the penthouse for three nights; the entire hotel for two."

The girl choked on air. She knew James Barnes was wealthy, but she never imagined this. "The entire hotel?" Exactly how many people were coming to the wedding?

"Yes, ma'am. Your entire wedding party is staying with us. And your bridesmaids will stay at the penthouse while you are on your honeymoon."

The girl felt sick. Positively and irrevocably. First, the shock of finding out how wealthy her fiancé was, then to hear him referred to as hers. Her fiancé. Her wedding. Her bridesmaids. Her honeymoon.

"I assumed Mr. Barnes would have told you," the attendant continued, mildly concealed suspicion lacing her voice.

Vaguely, the girl was aware a question had been asked and that she should answer said question, but a sudden dizziness overtook her. She stared at a small smudge on the mirror to her left—a lone imperfection amongst an otherwise spotless surface—and focused on breathing through her nose and out of her mouth.

Fleur placed a cold hand on the girl's back when she remained unresponsive. "Miss Burgundy?"

The girl blinked and refocused her attention. "I'm alright," she said. "Just a bit dizzy. I think I should sit down."

The attendant's eyes instinctively trailed down the girl's abdomen. "Would you like some water... or some champagne, perhaps?"

"Neither," the girl replied with a forced smile. "Thank you for the tour, but I'll rest for a bit.." The tour was nowhere near finished; it had hardly begun, but the dismissal was palpable.

"Of course," the attendant said with a polite nod. "I hope you enjoy your stay and feel better before your wedding." She stared at the girl's stomach as she left the room, almost bumping into the two guards at the door.

"Is that the bride?"

A large group of girls immediately bombarded her when she entered the main lounge. They wore identical robes, with the hotel logo embroidered on the sleeves, and sipped on flutes of champagne; her bridesmaids.

It quickly became clear there were two kinds of girls in the room. The first kind surrounded her with overly fake smiles and gave her compliments they didn't mean.

"Oh! Where did you get those shoes? They're so cute," said a tall redhead. They were second-hand from a thrift shop and were not cute.

The second kind, scattered varyingly across the space, visually sized her up. Their judgemental eyes scanned the girl head to toe, taking in her frayed jeans and scuffed shoes. Her messy hair, dry lips, and red eyes. Their stares lingered on her chest and bottom—on her waist—as if she were merely an object for them to criticize. It was clear they saw nothing of interest when they quickly dismissed her and continued their hushed conversations.

Two blondes of the second kind made their way over to the girl, pulling her down to sit with them. She shook their offered hands, hoping they couldn't feel the sweat lining her palms.

"You are one lucky bitch to be marrying James Barnes," said a bottle blonde with overly filled lips painted a bright pink. She stunk of Chanel. "I didn't know he had a girlfriend until I got the wedding invite."

Heat rose to the girl's face. She gave the two a rehearsed answer. "Oh. We didn't want the relationship to be public. James likes his privacy."

The taller blonde thrust a flute of champagne into the girl's hand before sipping on her own. She was perfectly tall, with legs that went on for days. Green eyes framed with long lashes. She lightly ran the pad of her thumb along a bright red lip. "Bucky does like his privacy, doesn't he?" she mused. "I would know," she shrugged a delicate shoulder, "from experience."

"Bucky?" the girl questioned.

"James. His close friends call him Bucky."

"Oh..." That felt like something she should have known. "Right. Of course," she laughed nervously. "Sorry, I didn't get much sleep last night."

The blonde hummed in consideration. "Yes, I can see that."

The girl blinked. Someone behind her snickered.

"Oh, what was your name?" the blonde continued. "It completely slipped my mind."

The girl took a large sip of her drink before answering.

"How cute. My name's Dorothy." She reached over to bop the girl's nose. "You can call me Dot. Everyone does. This is Chanel."

The girl gave Dot a shaky smile. "It's nice to meet you, Dot." It wasn't. It really wasn't. She then turned to Chanel, praying she could keep a straight face. "And you."

"I'm surprised you didn't have a bachelor party," said Chanel. "Bucky sure went all out."

"Yes," Dot agreed. "Why didn't you?"

The girl stuttered around a response. "James—I don't—I didn't feel like it."

"Well, he missed you."

"Who did?" The girl asked incredulously.

"Bucky, who else?" Dot raised a brow. "I had to stay with him all night to make sure he wouldn't call or try to see you." She twirled a strand of hair with her finger. "It's bad luck to see each other before the wedding."

The girl didn't know what to say, so she settled for something generic. "Oh. I missed him too." It seemed her betrothed held no similar qualms about the marriage if he felt happy enough to party.

"Show us the ring!" Chanel suddenly demanded.

The bride-to-be presented her left hand to the room, prompting the ladies to huddle closer. "How cute." Dot turned to Chanel. "Isn't it just like the one James gave me on my birthday?"

Chanel nodded eagerly. "Except yours is bigger, I think."

Dot hummed in agreement. "Heavier too. Oh, but yours is so much cuter! Suits your personality perfectly."

What would this stranger know about her personality? The girl wondered if this was how mundane people made friends—sizing the competition with backhanded compliments to see who broke first. She glanced around the room. No one here was normal, least of all her.

"Thank you." She wanted to cry.

"So, Mrs. Barnes, do tell us. How did you and James meet?" someone asked.

"She's not Mrs. Barnes yet, dear," Dot quickly corrected, managing to sound both sarcastic and snobbish.

The girl laughed uncomfortably, plastering the biggest smile she could muster. "No, I still have a few hours before that happens.

Dot hummed. "Regardless, I would love to know the story. Bucky has been so uncharacteristically tight-lipped about you. He usually tells me everything."

Panic took over, and the girl looked at Fleur for guidance—They hadn't practiced this—only to find Fleur glaring somewhat discreetly at Dot. "We, uh—Our families knew each other!" the girl hastily answered. "There was a dinner. One thing led to another, and here we are—"

"Excuse me, do I know you?"

Confused, the girl froze at Dot's jarring question, only to find the blonde's attention on her maid.

Fleur schooled her expression into a passive one. "I doubt it, miss." Her accent was more pronounced than ever, surprising the girl who thought Fleur was improving.

Dot narrowed her eyes, briefly dropping her jolly and quick-witted persona. "No, I've definitely seen you before."

"Fleur's been working for my father for a while," the girl supplied. "Maybe you—"

"Have you visited the Burgundy estate lately, Miss Dorothy? I believe Mr. Burgundy invited your father for a friendly game of blackjack last month. Perhaps you tagged along?"

"I don't recall," Dot sneered.

The girl watched in confusion as the atmosphere changed.

"Oh!" Fleur covered her gasp with both hands. "How thoughtless of me. Mr. Allen couldn't have possibly visited when he was in prison for—"

"Stop right there!" Dot hissed, and though her voice was soft, the warning was sharp. However, the damage was done, and the room exploded with gasps of shock.

Even the girl couldn't hide her surprise at Fleur's abrupt change in behaviour, then at the company.

"When did your father go to jail, Dorothy? Why am I just hearing about this?"

Fleur quietly excused herself during the chaos.

"It was a misunderstanding," Dot explained, swiftly slipping into a calm disposition. "The matter resolved itself in a day." She turned her sharp eyes toward the girl, who straightened at the attention. Dot sighed, letting her shoulders droop. "Your mother was a great help to mine. How sad she couldn't be here today."

The room fell silent. The girl wasn't aware their mothers knew each other. What excuse was she supposed to give? She decided to go for the truth. "Yes, it is," she agreed with a sad smile.

Dot narrowed her eyes. She seemed displeased. "You're a strong person. I would burst into tears if I were in your position, God forbid."

"Yes, well, what can we do? Life goes on." The ladies began to chat among themselves as the previous tension slowly dissipated.

Dot's concealed scoff did not miss the girl's ears. "How optimistic of you."

The girl jumped at the lull in conversation after a moment. "I think I should change," she announced, stretching her legs. "And maybe take a shower." No one seemed to pay her any attention. "Right. I guess I'll be going then."

The girl turned to leave, but Dot stopped her with her arm. "Before you go, I just wanted to tell you how nice it is to meet you."

"It's nice to meet you too." It wasn't. It really wasn't, but the girl could help but be polite.

"We'll be seeing a lot of each other now," Dot said in a honeyed voice. "I can't wait for you to be part of the family."

Part of the family? What? "I'm sorry, but how do you know James?"

Dot put a hand over her chest. "How do I know him? You mean he hasn't told you about me?"

"No, he hasn't." The girl swallowed nervously. "Are you his sister?"

Dot threw her head back and laughed. "Am I his—Oh! I'm going to have a word with him after this. I can't believe he hasn't told you."

The girl couldn't help but feel like the butt end of a joke, with no choice but to play along. "Hasn't told me what?"

Dot stepped towards the girl and bit her lip as she leaned forward. "Me and James... well, let's just say we're very good friends."

"Oh." Dot's underlying meaning was clear.

What else could she say? Everyone held an advantage over her. They grew up surrounded by the mafia while she left. They knew all the particular goings-on of the organization, and she didn't. And now this gorgeous blonde was passive-aggressively staking some type of claim over James Barnes. Who she affectionately called Bucky.

"Okay."

Dot curled her lips into a smile as if to say, "checkmate," and took the girl's hand in a tight grip. "Again, welcome to the family, dear. You have no idea how excited I am."

It started slowly, a tingle in her spine, crawling up her shoulders and towards her neck. The feeling of someone watching her. She surveyed her surroundings, once, then twice, then seemingly happy with the absence of another soul, turned back towards the pool.

It had taken just one look at the girl's tear-ridden face for Fleur to deduce what was wrong.

"They're jealous." Fleur was wearing a neat braid. Her roots were a reddish blonde.

"Jealous?" the girl had scoffed, forgetting about her friend's unusual hair colour.

"Your husband is quite popular, especially among the younger ladies."

"He's not my husband," she snapped in frustration.

"Apologies." Though Fleur did not sound apologetic at all. "They're not happy you're marrying him."

"Least of all me! How am I supposed to convince everyone of this marriage, Fleur? I know nothing about him. I don't even know what he looks like!"

"Mr. Burgundy didn't let you two meet?"

"James Barnes is a busy man. He has an entire city to run." The girl repeated what her father told her, then aggressively shook her head. "I refused a picture. I don't think I could have survived the week if my nightmares had a face."

"All that from a single photograph? I hear he's a handsome man."

"The eyes are the windows to the soul, aren't they? After my brother died, my father changed and became cruel. His eyes used to be full of life, but they turned dull." The girl looked down at the floor, remembering how strict and uncaring her father became after losing his child.

Fleur thought for a moment. "I know you don't feel it, chérie, but you hold a lot of power."

The girl wanted to cry. "I don't feel powerful." She felt weak and helpless.

Fleur grabbed her hand. "Behind every successful man is a woman. Remember this. I helped my husband expand his practice. Without me, he never would've gotten to where he is."

The girl couldn't help the pity she felt. "And yet he still—"

"Yes, I got too comfortable. Never let your guard down, or the next thing you know—"

God, was that what would happen to her? Would she be swept away under all the lies and betrayals that seemed to follow the mafia everywhere?

Fleur seemed to be able to read the girl's mind. "I will not let that happen to you!" she promised passionately. "You are lucky the wedding is so public. Your husband will not risk losing you." She paused. "Or hurting you."

The girl deeply exhaled. The severity of her situation was voiced for the first time, leaving a weight on her shoulders.

"How can I help?" Fleur asked softly.

"I want to swim." The girl didn't bother correcting herself. "Alone."

It hadn't taken Fleur long to orchestrate the entire thing. A thinly veiled threat to the guards posted outside—something along the lines of castration—and the girl found herself in an empty natatorium.

The girl didn't know how to swim, though she didn't need to. She only needed to submerge herself long enough to forget what she had to do in a few hours.

Vow her life away to a monster. James Barnes.

She took the steps one at a time, becoming comfortable as the cool water slowly obscured her bikini-clad body. The pool was not too deep where she stood, only reaching her elbows, so she walked farther until it reached her chin.

The girl closed her eyes. A deep breath in, out, and another in before she bent her legs and lowered her body.

The effect was immediate. The world quieted down to silence, took all the girl's worries and anxieties, all past, present, and future troubles and dispersed them across the water's surface to be collected once she emerged.

The girl didn't want them back. She didn't want to live in constant fear, always wondering when the next shoe would drop. If she straightened her knees and took her head out of the water to breathe, she would need to wear her wedding dress, walk down the aisle, and marry a monster. However, if she stayed, with her legs bent and floating aimlessly—with her breath stuck in her lungs and her body pliant in the water, she would be free of all her troubles.

Her eyes slowly fluttered open. She saw the ceiling above her through a distorted lens, her hands and legs floating aimlessly around her. Air bubbles left her nose and breached the surface, which seemed to move farther and farther away as time passed. Her hair created a beautiful halo around her head, and she sighed, expelling the last of air from her lungs.

As she let herself float away, deeper and deeper into the calm abyss, she thought, with sudden clarity, that she would love to spend the rest of her days here. No thoughts or feelings, only a calm that she could not reach any other way. A place where she was everything and nothing, all at the same time.

The girl shut her eyes, letting the comforting pressure of water surround her from all sides. Yes, she would love to spend the rest of her days here.

The effect was immediate. The world boomed with noise, took all the girl's worries and anxieties, all past, present, and future troubles and accumulated them across the water, which was then promptly collected the second she emerged.

The girl gasped, sputtered, and choked. It felt as if the arm around her abdomen had picked her up and slammed her onto concrete. The loss made her cry. She sobbed as she attempted to loosen the arms around her, to dive back into the serene calmness she was just feeling mere moments ago.

"No!" she cried out. "Let me go!"

The arm tightened painfully. "What the hell?"

The girl froze. She recognized that voice. She turned so abruptly her hair whipped the man across his face, making him flinch.

"Peter?"

"You were gonna drown!" Peter berated her. "Do you want to die?" He wore a dress shirt and dark grey slacks, the fanciest the girl had seen him in.

"No. I don't want to die. I just..." The girl moved a strand of wet hair from his eyes. "What are you doing here?"

Peter ignored her question and carried her out of the pool, setting her carefully on a lounge chair nearby. "What the fuck were you thinking?" he asked forcefully.

The girl suddenly felt very exposed to the cool air. She grabbed a nearby towel to cover her nakedness. "I wasn't," she replied. "I wasn't thinking."

"That doesn't sound like you," he observed, sitting beside her.

"Why are you here?" she asked once more.

Peter sighed and ran his hands over his face, wiping the excess water. He would have to change his clothes and find new shoes. The leather was sure to be damaged beyond repair.

"I heard some guys in the lobby talking about how the bride was taking a swim. I came in to say hi, and almost witnessed you kill yourself."

The girl wasn't trying to kill herself, though she decided not to correct him. "What are you doing in New York?" she clarified. "In this hotel?"

Peter scoffed, leaning forward to grab his dry suit jacket. "Did you hit your stupid head while you were down there?" He shoved a thick envelope toward her. "You invited me."

In her hands was a wedding invite. Gold and pink lines on matte black card stock. "The Barnes and Burgundy family cordially invite you to witness the holy matrimony of James Buchanan Barnes and—" In her hands was her wedding invite.

Dread settled low in the girl's stomach. The last she'd seen Peter, Campus security was escorting him out of the DKE party. That was also the last time she saw Dove. The girl wanted to ask about her friend. Was she okay? Was she eating well? How upset was she when the girl left without a goodbye?

"You need to leave," she declared.

"Oh, uh, okay." Peter rose to grab his discarded jacket and the wedding invite. "I'm in room 315. I'll see you at the church, yeah?"

"No. You need to leave the city." The girl rose to her feet as panic began to take over. "Now!" she exploded when he didn't move fast enough for her liking.

"Jesus!" Peter did not let the girl push him toward the exit. He grabbed her shoulders and shook her. "What are you talking about?"

She was hysterical, trying her best to keep her tears at bay, a complete one-eighty compared to a moment ago. "It's dangerous for you to be here. Catch the first flight back to Vancouver and go home!"

But Peter wouldn't listen. He wrapped the slipping towel tighter around the girl's shoulders and forced her to look at him. "Is this those wedding jitters I've heard about? because you're not making any sense. My life isn't in danger."

His calm and placating voice annoyed her. As always, Peter thought he knew better when he didn't. Her father obviously invited him here as a power move to show her his control over her life. One wrong move and Peter would suffer the consequences, along with Dove.

She pushed his hand away and grabbed his wet shirt. "You don't understand. You need to go to Dove. How was she when you left her? Is she hurt?"

Peter frowned. "Dove's alright. She misses you 'cause you left out of nowhere, but she's actually he—Wait. Why would she be hurt?"

The girl let out the breath she had been holding. "So, she's fine?"

Peter grabbed her wrists to loosen her hold on him, which was becoming tighter. "Yeah, What the hell? What aren't you telling me, Kitty? Why would Dove be hurt?"

The girl's face contorted in sorrow. She contemplated coming clean to her friend, telling him everything that had transpired since that fateful night in Vancouver. "Peter," she sighed, slowly losing her resolve. Perhaps he would listen if he knew what was at stake. "My father is—"

"I must say," a loud voice interrupted the two, "when my men told me my daughter went for a swim, I was surprised. Especially considering I didn't know you could swim."

Both of them froze. Peter tensed his shoulders and sighed deeply, letting his eyes close. "Kitty."

"Run," she whispered pleadingly. "There's still time."

"I'm sorry." Guilt swirled in Peter's eyes when opened them. He looked dejected.

The girl snatched her wrists from his hold. "It's okay. Just let me do the talking."

Peter shook his head. "Not about that." And he took a step toward her father.

What? she wanted to ask, but the question answered itself.

"Thank you for keeping an eye on her, Pietro. She clearly can't be left alone." Danial let his gaze wander all over Peter's wet clothes.

"Pietro?" the girl found herself wondering aloud.

Her father looked confused for a moment before bursting into laughter. He wrapped an arm around Peter's shoulder as if they were friends. "I forgot. You might know him as Peter, your schoolmate."

The girl turned to her friend, waiting for him to deny it.

Peter bowed his head, unwilling to meet her gaze. "Pietro Maximoff, Miss. At your service."

"No," the girl denied. "There must be some misunderstanding."

"There isn't," Peter—no, Pietro answered. "It's nice to meet you formally."

Her father seemed pleased. "Good job, Pietro. You can go. I'll call you if I need anything."

Pietro left without sparing her a glance.

It was like the entire world slowed. Voices muted, and a ringing overtook all her senses.

"You best be on your way," her father said.

"Why?"

He felt far away when he spoke. "You have a wedding to attend. That's why."

He misunderstood. "Why him?"

In the past week, the girl's world had flipped so many times she couldn't tell up from down anymore. Fear and anxiety were her best friend during this troubling time, and she thought nothing could surprise her. She was wrong.

She remembered meeting Peter—Pietro—for the first time. He was adamant about being her friend, waiting outside her classes with a coffee one day and iced tea another. The girl always figured he was friendly because she was Dove's best friend. She never suspected any foul play.

A horrible thought struck her. How would Dove react once she knew the man she loved deceived her? Another thought. Did she already know? A double deception was sure to kill the girl.

Did the girl's father control everything in her life? Had he known this entire time what she was doing? He must have. Pietro would have told him everything. He would have indulged her father with her most intimate thoughts and feelings. That betrayal somehow felt much worse than Pietro lying about who he was.

That is when the numbness started. The girl was tired. Tired of feeling, hoping for a reprieve, and constantly being let down. Tired of fearing for her friend's life.

When her father gestured for two of his men to grab the girl, she did not react or fight back. She only tightened the small towel around her shoulders. They dragged her out with ease, following her father, stopping when he stopped, moving when he moved.

When she passed the concierge, the staff averted their eyes, unwilling to even risk looking in her direction. Still, the girl felt a pair of eyes follow her. She turned her head only to find a man staring at her.

There was a prominent frown on his face as he ran his gaze over her exposed legs and up her torso. While the girl usually felt repulsed while being leered at by random men, the stranger's eyes did not make her uncomfortable. Something about him felt oddly familiar. He was beautiful, with soft hair cut short on the sides, and was wearing a dress shirt with slacks, similar to Pietro's. His eyes were a startling azure.

Try as she might, the girl couldn't shake the feeling that she had seen the man before. Despite the distance between them, she noticed a muscle in his jaw tick in annoyance upon seeing her face.

He parted his pink lips then, to say something, though she didn't hear what. Her father frustratedly rubbed his eyes and replied to the man, walking over to greet him. The two shook hands, and Danial gestured for the guards to take her away.

The girl stayed passive the entire time, only pulling the towel over her chest to try and erase the stranger's stare from her body. They dragged her across the lobby and towards the elevators. There was no stopping it now. A wedding awaited her.

Her bridesmaids' chatter quieted to a dull throb, deadening completely the longer the girl ignored them. They were snacking on fruit and sipping champagne while a photographer captured the exaggerated moment. Smiles too big and poses too disingenuous.

In comparison, the girl sat blank-faced. No smile. No disingenuous pose. No falsities or pretenses. One couldn't tell her dress was a few sizes too small, preventing her from breathing. Or that underneath the layers of concealer, her eyes were dark enough to be mistaken for bruises, and her elaborately made hair housed the beginning of what was turning out to be a massive headache.

Yes, it was odd that the bride-to-be was not trembling with excitement, but that could be a consequence of nerves. Her lack of response, however, was starting to become concerning.

"What do you think?" the hairdresser asked for the third time. He finished the final touches. A brooch here, a sprinkle of glitter there.

The girl barely glanced at her reflection. "It's nice," she murmured, then tuned out the rest of the conversation.

A young woman refreshed the colour on her lips with a small brush before blotting it with a tissue. "I've never had such an obedient bride before," she laughed. "You're as still as a mannequin."

The girl gave no reaction. She briefly heard the pair acknowledge her inattentiveness, speculating in hushed whispers why she wasn't happier. She felt disinclined to indulge them.

She was tired.

She didn't know when, but the room cleared out, and still, she was sitting in front of the vanity, staring at a fixed spot in the mirror.

From her peripheral, the girl saw her father enter behind her. Danial was dressed in his most expensive suit and held a folder in his right hand, which he placed on the vanity. Still, she sat unmoving.

"Everyone is already on their way to the church," he told her. "I sent Fleur with your bridesmaids." He paused, waiting for his daughter to say something, but she didn't. Danial cleared his throat. "I wanted to give you your wedding present right now. I know there's time set apart for later, but I thought you'd appreciate doing this privately."

At this, the girl did react. She found her father's eyes in the mirror and looked down at the folder in question.

"Open it," Danial urged. And so she did.

The girl took in the contents of the folder passively, emotionlessly. I, Danial Burgundy, being of sound mind and body, do hereby declare the following—

"I suppose congratulations are in order." Danial placed a hand on his daughter's shoulder. "You will become the new and sole owner of the Burgundy estate once the marriage is finalized."

Now, this did get a reaction from the girl. She shot up from her seat, making Danial's hand fall to his side. "You're trying to buy my silence? You think this will erase what you're making me do?" The girl made her way to the door, holding the will in a white-knuckled grip. She couldn't sit there and be reminded of how badly she lost.

"I told you before," Danial's voice reverberated through the room, "and I'll tell you again. This will all make sense soon, then you'll thank me. There's a reason I'm doing this. A good reason."

The girl looked at her father, at his determined face and stiff posture. No, she decided, there can be no justifiable reason for what he is doing. Nothing she could ever understand or forgive.

"We're late, Father," the girl said; and with that, she turned around and left. There was a wedding to attend.

Note: Thoughts? How are we feeling so far?

Ao3│Wattpad│Ko-fi

Main Masterlist│Series Masterlist│Series Playlist

Chapter 4 — Chapter 5 — Chapter 6

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!! 💜💜

@sebastianstansqueen @nefri-black @broco8 @writing-for-marvel @speedysimp @thegirlnextdoorssister @lostyx @bbgem329 @pineprincess @vollzeitliebe @ng4b20 @veroxbarnes @moonlightreader649 @calwitch @marvelatthetwilight @umadirectioner @littlewhiterose @hallecarey1 @sergntbarnes @nothingbettertosay81 @la--figue @chwlogy @prettywhenicry4 @candybabysworld @matchat3a @emmabarnes @valkyrie418 @star017 @ria132love @vayollie

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes au #mafia!bucky #mafia!bucky x reader #mafia!bucky x innocent!reader #mafia au #marvel #meant to be series #mywriting #forced marriage #arranged marriage

128 notes · View notes

scoonsalicious · 1 month

Note

Mother Pookie has fed her kitties well🩷🩷. There’s so many emotions idk which one i should talk about first?😭😂

BUT DANG chap 2.2 is just HOT

I am actually speechless😂 I have nothing to say except I am satisfied.

ITS SO GOOD OMG POOKIE? WHAT R U DOING TO ME? WHATT?!!😫😫

Lemme say, It didn’t take me long to hate Lilian. Like I swear, the moment she fucking said that Major looks like a SKANK gurl, fuck u.

My first impression on Major was like how Bucky saw her, a hot pretty dame that made me giggle like a teenager, making heart eyes and singing the whole world to my dick (if i have a dick)

And then throughout the chp, oh my goodness, I would’ve slap Leah the moment she starts bitching up. Major has a dang ass patience. I couldn’t.

THE THINGS I WOULD DO TO VOTE FOR BUCKYBABY TO BREAK HER HEART IN THE WORST WAY POSSIBLE (so far she’s 35% in my ‘dead’ list, better fix ur attitude if u don wanna end up like cunthage — ITS JUST BEEN 2 CHP?!)

Lindsay rubs the ick on me more than Jade (ofc Jade is worse but she dead now) but cuntly is so so so so so so so so so irritating. The absolute pick me, so called ‘one of the guys’. Ew. Even half of the team is irked by her attitude. That just says a lot.

Glad that our queen Major put her in her place. She needs more. Like, absolute humiliation (disclaimer: i dont support bullying but LILIAN FUCKING NEEDS IT)

And can we appreciate Wanda simping over Thor?😂 (you are not alone, i also dream of licking his abs — mhmmm)

Bucky and Major are purrrfect for each other. Its giving love at first sight 👀. Bucky simps hard. Like so hard. I can wait for more Bucky X Major scene (fluff,sexay — mayyybeeeee angst? i just love hurt myself)

Also, iMajor and Tony r absolutely gonna be ‘rich business badass besties’ and then them + Sam (Wanda and Nat at the back) roasting Leah. Oh what a beautiful dream~

Anyways, beautiful beautiful writing indeed. Waiting to see Bucky sexay POV next😂 Unleash the power of your blue balls. Also I can’t wait to read what your master brain had planned🌚. Love you Pookie🩷🩷🩷

PS// these past few days I was scrolling tumblr, searching for new Bucky fics/updates and honestly… I MISSED YOUU!!! I CANNOT STRESSED THAT ENOUGH!!! 😭 seeing your username the first thing when i opened tumblr made my night! i was planning on listening to songs, dwelling on my loneliness and delulu but LOOK AT ME NOW, ITS 4AM GOSH. THANK U POOKIE LOVE U HAVE A GREAT DAY

POOKIE! <3

Actual footage of me coming up to love on your comments:

I'm so glad people are enjoying 2.2! I gotta be real, I usually don't get hot and bothered when it comes time write smut, but that section? Whoa, boy... that section had me like:

(Yes, this is my second favorite gif of all time, and I will use Blanche to express my hot and bothered-ness whenever I can, lol)

I gotta tell you right now, the phrase "making heart eyes and singing the whole world to my dick (if i have a dick)" is now the highlight of my week, so I thank you for this. It's pure literary magic <3

Major is used to taking shit from peons; she was a woman in the military, after all, lol, which is why she's able to not let Lily phase her too much. Her patience will be tested, though. Where Cunthrage was just flat out unhinged, Lizard is more... selfishly insidious? Just, you know, she's not going to be kidnapping people and snapping their arms or murderously rampaging through Hydra bases or anything. (The stakes here are much, much lower, lol. Which, I guess, is going to prep us for Unbroken, where the stakes will be... Thanos-sized, lol.) I think what makes Lily feel worse, to me, is that she's far more realistic than Jade was. Like, I know girls like Lily irl; thankfully, never met a Jade (phew!). Much like Killgrave, to me, is the scariest Marvel villain, because I've encountered so many men like him in the real world.

The things I dream of doing to Thor would probably get me put on a list if he was a real person and not a fictional character, lol. Unless I'm doing AUs, I tend to stick with canon-pairings, but there is something about the idea of Wanda/Thor that I currently find very appealing, so hopefully, we will see something happen between the two of them. I think they would be adorable. And for some reason known only to my maker, I love making Wanda a little bit horny, lol. In fact, an earlier draft of Unwanted had Pocket referring to her as the Sokovian Horndog after she made some comments about Bucky's body, lol.

Is it weird that I don't plan on having Tony be too involved in this fic, because I feel like giving him a friendship with Major is like him cheating on his friendship with Pocket? That makes no sense whatsoever, lol, but I'm so protective of my girl. I'm like "Yeah, Major, I'll let you fuck Pocket's boyfriend, Bucky, but YOU CANNOT BE FRIENDS WITH HER PSUEDO-BROTHER TONY BECAUSE HE IS HERS!"

Bucky's got some sexy POV in the next sextion (see what I did there? lol) but there's going to be so much more smut in this one than Unwanted. It just feels right, lol.

8 notes · View notes

zep-writings · 5 months

Text

You Feel Like Home

CHAPTER SIX.

Warnings: Bad words, mention of war and military, sickness and trauma.

Pairings: Steve Rogers x OFC Ellie Barnes.

Notes: I do not own any of the characters present in this story, except for Ellie Barnes, an original character. This is pure fiction.

This has not been beta and English is not my first language so be nice haha.

Please give me some feedback, even just a small comment is really appreciated!

I've been working on this one for a while, so please let me know what you think!

You Feel Like Home Masterlist || Main Masterlist.

Chapter five

Three days went by, and Ellie never received any news from Steve. Peggy had promised to keep her updated if she got a signal from the transponder but so far they had absolutely nothing and Ellie was starting to lose hope. Little positivity she had left thanks to her talks with Peggy over the last few days was now gone and she just felt lost and alone. She kept herself busy with her work, tending to the wounded the best way she could, and filling paperwork when everyone was resting. Things were quiet at the camp so far until Ellie heard loud claps coming from outside the tent. She frowned and turned to another nurse who shrugged as a soldier walked in, out of breath.

“We need medics, we have wounded soldiers who need medical attention!” A soldier announced.

“We’re coming.” Ellie simply said, whipping her hands and following other nurses and medics outside.

There were hundreds of men standing near the entrance of the camp, men who had disappeared weeks ago and for a moment Ellie didn’t understand. As people were rushing around her, she went into nurse mode, talking to a few soldiers and directing them to help carry the wounded to the medical tents. Quickly, her instincts took over and she grabbed a bag of medical supplies. She administered pain killers to those who needed it and started to take care of the wounds of others.

For the next few hours, she did her best to do her job, to patch bullets wounds, fix broken bones or tend to sick soldiers but her mind couldn’t help but wonder about Steve or Bucky. Where were they? Did they make it back? She hadn’t seen any of them and a part of her was still scared that neither of them had made it back.

“Leah, can you keep an eye on everyone for a minute?” Ellie wondered, looking up at her friend who simply nodded.

Ellie finished up a bandage on a young man, barely in his twenties before she stood up and walked to the entrance of the tent. She gave a quick glance around, the most seriously injured soldiers had already been taking care of and she needed to check on the others, but she also needed to find Steve. She needed to ask him about Bucky, she knew there was a chance he would bring back bad news, but she had to know.

“Hi, have you seen Steve Rogers?” Ellie asked the first soldier she crossed path with outside the medical tent.

“He was with Colonel Phillips, near the entrance of the camp.” The soldier explained, pointing out at the big tent and Ellie nodded.

Ellie thanked him, looked around and made her way through the small crowd still reunited. Her heart fastened in her chest; concern visible on her soft features as she searched for the captain. When her eyes landed on his dirt covered face, she let out a loud sigh she didn’t know she was holding. He was there, alive.

“Steve…” Ellie muttered, and the super soldier turned to her, a smile spreading on his lips. “Steve, is he…” But she couldn’t finish her sentence, her throat tightened at the thought of Steve telling her Bucky was gone for good.

Instead of replying, Steve moved a step to the side to let Ellie’s eyes fell on her brother. Bucky was there, dirty and smelly but alive. Her hands flew to her mouth, and she let out a sob.

“Bucky…” Ellie sobbed as she rushed to him, and he pulled her into a hug. For a moment they stayed like that, hugging each other. “I… I thought I’d never see you again…” Ellie admitted, stepping away a little and whipping her tears, sniffling a little.

“You won’t get rid of me so easily. We Barneses are tough, remember?” Bucky smiled, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “But what are you doing here?” Bucky frowned, a little confused.

“I graduated early. I’m officially a nurse.” Ellie stated as she observed Bucky a little closer. He was pale and weak, there was no doubt in that, but what got her worried was the sound of his breathing. “You’re sick.”

“I’m fine, Ellie.”

“No. You’re not. You need some medical attention, Buck.” Ellie observed and glanced at Steve. “Tell him to stop being so stubborn.”

Steve raised both his hand. “Hey, he always listened to you more than me.” He smirked but gave Bucky a knowing look.

“Okay, okay. Fine.” Bucky finally said with a sigh. “But I’m telling you, I’m fine.”

Ellie gave him a look, the one that resemble so much of the one their mother used to give him all the time, that he didn’t argue more and followed her to her own personal tent. He dropped on the camp bed. He was exhausted, struggling a little to breathe, but he would never tell Ellie she was right. Steve stayed in the entrance of the tent, not wanting to invade Ellie’s privacy.

“Okay, take of your shirt.” Ellie told her brother who did as he was told. She tried not to pay attention to the multiple bruises on his chest and grabbed a stethoscope, pressing it against his chest. “Take a deep breathe.”

Bucky took a deep breath but starting coughing, wincing at the pain in his lung. Ellie placed the stethoscope around her neck and touch his neck and forehead. He was burning up.

“You’ve got pneumonia, Buck. I’ll go grab some medication, you laid down and get some rest.” Ellie ordered and before he could reply, she walked out of the tent, Steve hot on her tail.

“Is he gonna be okay? He was in a lab of some sort when I found him.” Steve explained to Ellie, his hands resting on his buckle.

“He’ll be fine, he just need rest, a lot of it. Even if he says he’s fine.” Ellie took a bag and put a few needles, penicillin and other medications in it before she turned to Steve, hesitating a moment. “Do… Do you know what they did to him?”

“No. Not really. He didn’t talk about it. They were put to work, that’s all I know.”

Ellie nodded and for a moment silence set between them. Ellie’s mind went back to that kiss, the one she had initiated when she thought she would never see him again, and now that he was back, she felt awkward. And so did Steve. He didn’t have much time to think about what had happened between them before the plane ride and yet now that he was right in front of her, he couldn’t think about anything else than kissing her again.

“We should…” Ellie pointed at her tent.

“Right, yeah.” Steve nodded.

The captain followed her back to her tent where Bucky was now laying down on the bed, half asleep, his mind racing through what had happened to him over the last few weeks. However, as soon as Ellie passed the doors of the tent, he put a smile on his face. The smile was a fake one and both Steve and Ellie noticed as they exchanged a glance.

“I’ve got some penicillin and some antibiotics. That should help you.” Ellie said softly, sitting on the side on the bed.

“You know how much I hate needles.” Bucky pouted like a five-year-old boy.

“I know, but it’ll make you feel better, I promise.” Ellie explained, stroking his arm.

“Fine, make it quick.”

Ellie pulled a needle out of the bag, sterilized it and as gently as possible she administered Bucky with what he needed. She bent down and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“Get some rest.” Ellie whispered.

It didn’t take long for Bucky to fall asleep, and Ellie stared at him for a few minutes, he looked so small… She stood up and walked to Steve who was unusually quiet.

“Thanks for saving him…” Ellie looked up at the captain and Steve simply smiled softly. “And for coming back.”

“I told you I would.”

“I know but I thought…” Ellie went quiet for a second and shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. You’re both safe.”

Steve nodded and pulled her into his chest. She snuggled against him for a moment, silence settling between the two. Things were a little awkward between them and for a moment Ellie was worried she had messed up everything between them. Why did she have to kiss him? Why couldn’t she just act like she always did with him? She finally pulled away and glanced at her brother.

“Just keep an eye on him, will you? I have to go back to the medic tent.” Ellie asked Steve.

“Of course.” Steve said, a soft smile on his lips and he watch Ellie walked out.

****

Weeks passed by quickly after Steve saved all those soldiers and he had brought Bucky back. Bucky had recovered from the pneumonia he had caught in Azzano and to Ellie’s surprise he had recovering faster than she expected. In barely two weeks, he had almost fully healed but Ellie still insisted on him resting, which he refused to do.

For the most part of that time, Steve had been busy with Peggy, some of the officers he had rescued and Colonel Phillips planning operations. From the little Ellie knew, he was now part of the fighting team going against Hydra, the Nazi Scientist Division and even if she worried of what it meant, she was relieved he was busy.

Ellie missed him, but since their kiss, she couldn’t keep Steve out of her mind. She wasn’t ready to face what she had done or what she felt for him, and she did her best to keep herself occupied and avoid Steve, which turned out to be easier than she thought as both of them were so busy. She knew she would have to face him at some point, to tell him why she had kissed him, but truth was, she was scared of telling him. She didn’t want things to change between them, she didn’t want to face the fact that she may have ruined their friendship.

Now back in London, Ellie was working in the same building as Steve and Bucky, but luckily their path didn’t cross much and when they did, she always found an excuse to leave. Bucky on his part had noticed something was up with Ellie, he knew her all too well not to notice, but he never pushed or never asked. However, Bucky wasn’t dumb, he knew how her sister felt about Steve, and he suspected something had happened for them to end up avoiding each other.

“Are you coming for a drink?” Peggy’s voice pulled Ellie out of her thoughts.

Ellie raised her head to look at Peggy, looking absolutely gorgeous in that tight red dress hugging her curves perfectly. “Wow, Peg you look beautiful.”

“Well, thank you.” The Agent smiled. “And soon you’ll look perfect, and Steve will only have eyes for you. Come on.”

“Peg… I don’t think I’m coming.” Ellie bit down on her lower lips.

“Oh yes, yes you are.” Peggy shook her head and went through Ellie’s small hotel room closet. She pulled out a very simple little pink dress. “Come on put this on.”

Ellie sighed but stood up from her bed where she was sat and grabbed the dress, walking to her bathroom.

“Have you talk to Steve yet?” Peggy asked a little louder from the room.

“To say what? I don’t know what to say, Peg, he’s my brother’s best friend.” Ellie took of her clothes and pull on the dress her friend had chosen for her.

“To say what you feel. I know Steve doesn’t know how act around women, but you have to talk to him.”

Ellie pulled her long brown hair back and walked back to the room. Peggy smiled at her, approving her outfit as she slipped on black shoes. “I guess I’m as bad as he is then.” Ellie admitted. “Look, in just a few days he’s going to be back on the front and I’m gonna be here, in London. What’s the point of telling him anything if he’s gonna leave?”

“So, you can have him when he comes back home.” Peggy simply stated as she gently squeezed Ellie’s hand in hers.

“I’ll think about it.” Ellie promised, giving Peggy a smile.

The Agent nodded and threw her arm around Ellie’s arm. Quickly, they made their way to the neighbor pub Whip & Fiddle near their hotel, the one where Steve, Bucky and a few other soldiers had decided to spend the night. As soon as the two ladies entered the bar, heads turned to look at them and Ellie felt herself blush. She never liked being the center of attention, but she knew Peggy often had that affect on men, she was a beautiful woman after all. Ellie silently followed Peggy to the back of the bar where Steve and Bucky were sat on stools, and she watched as they both leaned back to look at them approach. As soon as they noticed Ellie and Peggy, they both stood up, facing them.

“Captain.” The Agent Carter spoke.

“Agent Carter.” Steve replied, his eyes glancing at her before landing on Ellie, standing slightly behind the Agent.

“Ma’am.” Bucky saluted as looked up and down at Peggy.

“Howard has some equipment for you to try. Tomorrow morning?” Peggy announced as Steve couldn’t take his eyes of Ellie who felt herself blushed even more, pushing a piece of hair back behind her ear and looking down at the floor.

“Sounds good.” Steve replied, glancing quickly at Peggy.

Peggy looked to her right, her eyes falling on the men Steve had chosen to be in his team, where they resumed to their loud singing. “I see your top squad is prepping for duty.”

Bucky looked back and turned back to Peggy, a charming smile on his lips, a smile that Ellie knew all too well. “You don’t like music?”

“I do, actually.” Peggy turned to Ellie and smirked slightly. “And so does she.”

Ellie looked back up, her eyes landing on Steve who still hadn’t taken his eyes out of her. She is so gorgeous, he thought, his heart beating a little faster in his chest.

“We might even, when this is all over, go dancing.” Peggy added, offering a smile to Bucky.

“Then what are we waiting for?” Bucky asked, turning on his charm.

“The right partner.” Ellie spoke for the first time that evening.

Steve couldn’t help but notice this seemed to be aimed at him. Was she referring to the kiss they had shared? Was she trying to say something to him? Steve hadn’t stopped thinking about her since their kiss, he couldn’t and all he wanted to do at that moment was tasting her lips again. He missed her.

“0800, Captain.” Peggy ordered, taking Ellie’s arm back in hers as she started to walk away.

“Yes ma’am. I’ll be there.” Steve said, his eyes following Ellie as she walked away.

The last thing Ellie heard was her brother’s voice saying, “I’m invisible.”

Her heart was pounding loudly in her chest way and when she sat next to Peggy at the bar, she turned to her and shook her head. “What was that?”

“What was what?” Peggy said innocently, smiling at her friend and ordering them a drink.

“That. Saying we’ll go dancing.”

“Hey, you’re the one who said you were waiting for the right partner. But you know, Steve only had eyes for you in there, it was obvious.”

Ellie felt herself blush again and grabbed the drink the bar tender was handing her. “I’ve always felt invisible with Steve, I mean not in a bad way. He’s always been an amazing friend, we’ve always been close, but I never thought…”

“You never thought he could feel something for you?”

“Well, yes.” Ellie admitted, taking a sip of her drink, and looking up at Peggy.

“I think you have to get use to the idea that he does feel something for you though. And you should stop overthinking, just… Go with it.”

Ellie stayed silent for a while, drinking with Peggy before she got tired. Things had been crazy and busy over the last few weeks, and everything that was going on with Steve wasn’t helping Ellie who struggled to sleep. She wished Peggy a good night and walked out of the pub, wrapping her arms around herself to shield her from the cold. She jumped a little when she felt someone dropped a jacket around her shoulder.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” Steve softly spoke, offering her a soft smile.

“It’s okay. What are you doing here?” Ellie pulled his jacket around her.

“I was gonna go back to the hotel. Let me walk you back.”

Ellie smiled shyly. “Sure.”

Steve pushed his hands into his pants pocket as a silence settle between them. It was awkward, and for a moment Ellie’s remembered Peggy’s words: stop overthinking, go with it. Why was it so hard though? Why couldn’t she simply tell him how she felt?

“Are you okay, Angel?” Steve broke the silence, looking at the brunette by his side.

“I’m fine, just tired. It’s been a lot lately, you know.” Ellie admitted, glancing quickly at those blue eyes she loved so much.

“Yeah, I know how you feel. But you’re an amazing nurse, Ellie. I’m glad you were here after Azzano, and I know Bucky was too, even if he’s too proud to say it.”

Ellie chuckled slightly. “It’s Buck, I know he would never ask for help unless he’s dying. He likes to play tough.”

“He sure does.”

Silence fell between them again as Steve and Ellie entered the hotel. They reached out Ellie’s floor and stopped in front of her door before she took of Steve’s jacket and handed over back to him.

“Thanks for walking me back.” Ellie whispered with a small smile.

“Anytime.” Steve hesitated for a second before he spoke again. “You looked beautiful by the way, very beautiful.”

“Thanks.” Ellie placed a piece of her hair behind her ear as she always did when she was nervous and felt herself blush. “Goodnight, Steve.”

“Goodnight, Angel.” Without a second thought, he bent down and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Ellie nodded and entered her hotel room, biting down on her lower lip. Maybe Peggy was right after all, maybe Steve felt more for her than she thought.

****

Chapter seven

#marvel fanfiction #mcufanfic #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x original female character #chris evans fanfiction #steve rogers #steve rogers x ofc #bucky barnes #chris evans fanfic #ellie barnes #you feel like home #captain america fanfiction #captain america x original female character #captain america x female reader

13 notes · View notes

lillydiana304 · 2 years

Text

the collection of wives

summery:when the play-boy CEO Mr. Barnes mets y/n at a gala, the daughter of shyla many mens mistresses, the man who has had five wives (now ex's) seems to fall to his knees for the girl who wants nothing to do with him. warrings: fulff, smut, angst, bad parenting, bucky was a player, mention of cheating (not on reader) mean ex's wives, pregency, birth, throughing up, innonce kink, daddy kink, breeding kink, snoby people, crusing, yelling, reader has a bad relationship with her mother theres more but i cant think of them right now... CEO!bucky, player!bucky x shy!reader, innoncent!reader, sweet!reader, brown eyed!reader

chapter one

the gala

chapter two

the run in

chapter three

take her on a date

chapter four

mother spoke

chapter five

Natasha, sharon, sarah, leah, and millie

chapter six

make up

chapter seven

the engagment

chapter eight

mother spoke...again

chapter nine

the test

chapter ten

i do's

sneak peak!

#bucky #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky angst #bucky x female reader #bucky fic #bucky fluff #bucky imagine #bucky smut #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #james bucky buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #ceo!bucky #winter solider x you #winter solider smut #winter solider x reader

206 notes · View notes

navstuffs · 2 years

Text

Protocol 77

Pairing: Firefighter Steve Rogers x GN!Reader

Summary: THIS IS NOT A DRILL!; or where Steve has to save you for real now.

Warning: LONG ONE-SHOT, accident description, blood, injury, mention of DUI, steve feeling powerless/panicking, mentions of anxiety attack, swearing, steve is insecure/belittles himself, angst with good ending, some usage of y/n, bonus scene with protective steve/sam/bucky at the end.

Author's note: i knew the second part of Evacuation Drill had to be with a real one: steve really saving reader this time, this one being less sexy and a little more dramatic. there will be some inconsistencies in this fanfic as well (doctors can only give info about patients to family members, for example). most of the rescuing references came from this video, so you can watch to have a visual of what they are doing. also thank you so much for the feedback on the first part, i hope you guys like this one as well! gif credit to its owner.

Part 1

When the crash happened, you weren't looking at your phone. It had been vibrating the whole day, begging for your attention but you didn't have the time to look at it. You had been driving home, exhausted. You had a really stressful day at your work, with your boss Jerry suddenly informing the team Friday morning that "they" had a huge project for Monday! It wasn't anyone's fault in the team except Jerry's, who had warned he needed that presentation to show the directors. Everyone was ordered to stay late that Friday, except Jerry, to finish the presentation. Your boss had left at 5 o'clock, on point, ordering no one to leave until those slides were ready and e-mailed to him.

You had a pretty competent team, so everyone worked together to finish. Leah was the first to leave; she had twins to take care and she couldn't pay extra for the nanny. She promised to continue her work at home. Polly also couldn't stay more; she took care of her sick grandma. Soon everyone started leaving due to their personal lives, promising to continue at home, except you. You believed in them. The team was strong, except for Jerry. They all looked at you as their boss figure anyway since they knew they couldn't count on Jerry. You wondered how he even got that boss position.

You were so deep in your thoughts, you didn't realize a huge car was speeding through the red light, directly towards you.

-x-

Steve Rogers watched as Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson played some ping pong. It had been a slow night. They had received a call from a cat trapped in a tree(Bucky affirmed over and over again that the old lady had a crush on Steve, that's why she kept calling), some teenagers started a fire in a trashcan in a park and a lady who called about her house being on fire. After a complete check-up in her house, with no sign of any fire anywhere, they realized her alarms were defective due to battery. She apologized profusely, giving them cookies.

"It's Friday night, soon we will probably have something," Natasha Romanoff stated on their way back to the station "At least, we got cookies."

Steve's life had changed in those a lot in those last couple of months: first, he had become an official firefighter. He loved his job, he loved helping people. He felt his purpose was being filled and he was happy. Proud of himself, he would have to admit.

Also, he had a new person in his life: you. He almost couldn't believe it. Since the evacuation drill, Sam gave him your phone number and you started exchanging texts daily. On your first date, he was extremely nervous, because Steve felt completely out of your league. You were so pretty, intelligent, successful, and well, he was just a once skinny kid from nowhere in particular. But for a miracle, you were interested in him. The first kiss came on that same night, outside your door.

Sam and Bucky were eager for all juicy details the following day and Steve could swear Natasha was listening to the conversation as well. He shared about the kiss, making Bucky celebrate and throw his fists in the air. Sam crossed his arms, stared at him very seriously. Sam made Steve promise he wouldn't hurt his best friend. Or else, they would have problems.

Steve twirled his phone in his hands, checking if there were any new messages from you. Nothing since 9 AM. You told him there was some critical project, Jerry again (gosh, he hated Jerry), and you probably would have to work late again. Since then Steve tried to call you at lunchtime and texted a few more times, during his free time, with no answer. Steve was tempted to ask Sam if he had heard from you when they heard the alarm.

Steve jumped from the chair, running to their truck followed closed by the rest of them. Natasha jumped in the driver's seat with Sam in the passenger seat. Bucky and Steve went behind them.

"What is it, what is it?" Bucky inquired, rubbing his hands in excitement.

"Car collision. A car was crossing the green light when another one hit it, at high speed, making the car flip two times and hit a pole. One driver is okay, but the police don't know the condition of the other one." Natasha informed them and Steve could hear Bucky almost cheer. She hushed to turn the siren, driving fast through the city. Lieutenant Natasha was the best driver in the whole station really.

It was a nice change of pace for that monotonous night, but why did Steve have a bad feeling about this?

-x-

When they arrived, police had already circled the area. There was a crowd forming, some people with their phones out. The police officer informed them the driver who caused the accident had only gotten some minor injuries. They were testing him for DUI at that moment, but they couldn't get any information from the other driver. Not good news: their victim was most likely unconscious.

"I hope they survived this. It looks so bad." The cop reported the team.

The car was destroyed, just a black mass laying on the side against the pole. It was hard to believe there was a human inside there. There were parts of it everywhere splattered on the street, proving the collision was violent.

"That driver must have come super fast. Jesus..." Bucky asserted, shaking his head.

Steve mentally wished the driver would be fine. It looked like there was no gas spilled so the driver could consider themselves very lucky. When they started getting closer, his bad feelings started to get worse. Steve unconsciously looked at Sam who seemed to have the same thoughts as him.

"I will check on the driver and then we can decide how we are going to take this person out," Natasha ordered and they all agreed. Steve knew exactly what that meant: if they were going to recover an injured person or possibly just a body.

Bucky helped Natasha get up into what seemed to be the passenger side and she turned on her flashlight, looking inside. For a moment, they couldn't see her head while she observed inside.

"Fuck..." Natasha cursed. That was strange. Natasha was their most experienced professional and the one that always kept her composure, no matter how bad things had gotten. When she lifted her head, her face had lost all color and her eyes went directly towards Sam and Steve. Bucky helped her get down.

"Lieutenant?" Sam wondered, giving a fast look in Steve's direction.

"There is no easy way to say this," Natasha murmured to herself, her eyes getting watery. Steve's heart was bumping against his chest as he waited for his Lieutenant to speak.

"Is the person alive or dead? Are you okay, Lieutenant?" Bucky questioned. They had never seen Natasha like this.

"It is (Y/N). It is (Y/N) inside that car." Natasha blurted.

Steve's heart stopped beating as his mind went blank. No, it couldn't be. Natasha had to be mistaken. You were safe and at home probably, where you were supposed to be. Safe and alive.

"Natasha, how-?" Bucky started asking, shocked when Sam ran to the car. He jumped to the passenger with no help, looking inside with his flashlight.

It was really you. He would recognize the face of his best friend anywhere. But it didn't look like you. Your head was bleeding. Your legs were bleeding. Your eyes were closed. Your body was immobile. Sam screamed your name once. Twice. You didn't move an inch.

"We have to get them out of here!" Sam's scream came in panic as his head raced with what needed to be done. They needed to get you out of there as soon as possible. He had to get you out of there.

Sam joined the others, Natasha still visibly shocked and Bucky looking between them, waiting for orders. The worse of them was Steve: he was frozen, his blue eyes focused on a random point. Sam knew there was no time for this. You needed them. All of them. He grabbed Steve by his neck and made him stare at his eyes.

"They need us, Rogers. Don't you dare to panic on this right now. We will take (Y/N) out of there."

Steve felt like he was slapped awake by Sam. He was right. You needed him more than ever now. Decided, he nodded. Natasha and Bucky, influenced by Sam's words, ran to the firetruck to grab the needed tools while Sam helped Steve to get up in the passenger side, to get a good look at you.

His eyes got teary as he saw your body. You were laying sideways, your face close to all the glass pieces on the floor. There was so much blood. You looked so hurt and small. He never thought he would have to see you like this in his line of duty. Steve wished he had super powers now: he wanted to rip off that door and take you away and cure you. Make sure nothing else could hurt you.

When Steve got down, Sam warned him Bucky and Natasha were already back. Steve cleaned his eyes, his body shaking with anger, sadness, and fear. In his very recent fireman career, he had never felt so weak before. He felt like he was 14 again when he couldn't protect himself from bullies, needing Bucky to save him. But this time it was even more serious, this was about someone he deeply loved and cared about.

Steve let his eyes wander to where the cops were keeping the bastard who hit you. He started to make his way there, his hands closed in fists. He just wanted the driver to feel a little bit of the pain you were feeling when Sam stood in his way.

"Rogers, don't you fucking dare! (Y/N) needs you now! Are you with us or not?"

"If they are dead, I swear to God, I will kill him," Steve promised, his tone low and dangerous.

"I know. We both will. But for now, let's focus on taking (Y/N) out of this car." Sam sounded serious and Steve knew he was telling the truth. He knew how much Sam loved you.

"ROGERS, WILSON! LESS TALKING!" It was Lieutenant Natasha now ordering now, her face red.

The plan was simple and they had done so many times: stabilize the car, locking it so it didn't turn while they were working on it. Remove the windshield to have access to you, place the neck brace, and check your vitals. Then pull the roof of the car, safely and slowly, using the rescue stretcher to safely remove your body, still held by the safety belt. Bucky had the neck brace ready which was the first thing they had to do when having access to your body. To not damage your spine, Steve thought, his heart heavy.

So they started working. Steve could feel Natasha stare at him and Sam at times. She had recovered faster from the shock of seeing your body and Sam as well, although Sam was as young as Steve in this. Steve let the adrenaline take over: he ignored all the noises, stares, and the presence of other people. There was just you and his team.

When stabilizing the car was done, it was time to cut the windshield. Sam did that part, carefully trying to not hurt you. As soon as the windshield came out, Bucky stepped in. He didn't look at the rest of the team as half of his body disappeared inside the car, checking for your vitals and putting on the neck brace, carefully. Steve was right behind him, observing nervously.

When Bucky exited the car, there was relief in his worried eyes.

"Still breathing and there is a pulse" Bucky stated. Natasha and Sam breath relieved, but Steve had to check for himself. Your body was cold. There was still breathing and a pulse but it was very weak.

"We need to get them out of here, now!" Steve roared. Natasha gave the hydraulic claw to his hands.

"You think you can do this, Steve?" Bucky inquired, unsure.

Steve nodded, without thinking twice. There was no more trace of fear or apprehensiveness on him anymore. His sole focus was on taking you out of there as fast as he could. Without hurting you.

-x-

The whole process didn't take him too long. After Steve was done cutting the roof, it didn't fall to the ground. The roof was supposed to stay in, to help them. Sam and Natasha put the board inside, adjusting your body to directly lay on it.

As they laid the roof down slowly, your body came down with it, laying to your side. Steve and Sam rushed to bring your body out, bending your knees and keeping your feet together. Steve's mind was racing to carry you out straight to the ambulance, but he kept his mind focused.

EMS rolled in with their stretcher and your body was carefully placed in there, still laying to your side. They rushed to cover your body with an aluminum blanket and rolled out of way in direction of their ambulance. Steve rushed to your side but before he could get inside the ambulance, the doctors closed in on his face.

"They are taking them to the closest hospital, five miles away. Come on, we will drive you there!" Sam warned and they all ran back to the firetruck, Steve jumping at the passenger seat now. Natasha turned on the fire alarm, driving straight to the hospital.

Steve could only wish for the best now.

-x-

You opened your eyes and wanted to close them immediately. There was a bright light everywhere and pain. Your whole body was hurting, from your head to your feet. Especially at your ribs. There was a distant electronic beeping sound. The room got on focus and you didn't recognize where exactly you were.

It looked like a hospital room. What had happened? All you remembered was driving back late from work then nothing else. Trying to lift yourself up to observe the place better, you felt gentle hands taking you back to the bed.

"Hey hey, please don't do that. You will hurt yourself."

You looked at the person speaking and blinked a few times. It was your boyfriend Steve Rogers. Dressed in full uniform, except for the helmet. His face was dirty and he looked extremely worried at you.

"Steve?" You barely recognized your voice. It felt like you hadn't spoken in ages. You cleared your dry throat and tried again "What happened?"

"You were in a car accident last night."

A car accident? But how? What?

"We were called in. I was called in. We took you out of there."

The realization slowly kicked in. You didn't remember arriving home last night. You lifted your hands up and saw a bandage on them. It hurt every time you breathed and your head felt so heavy. You touched your head and felt bandages everywhere.

"You guys saved me?" Steve nodded. You looked behind him on a sofa where you find his protective helmet. Steve had dark circles under his eyes, his blonde hair a mess. You don't think Steve noticed or cared about that at the time. So different from the normal Steve Rogers you were used to seeing. The one with his hair always down and tidy, clean face.

Because this Steve had gone through hell. After being left in there by the rest of the crew (Sam made him promise he would send updates as soon as he knew), Steve waited for news about your situation. The doctors had come out for what seemed years later to let him know your condition was serious but stable. You had broken ribs, a concussion (they had to do more exams to check on that), one of your legs and your arm were broken, and some internal bleeding in your belly. They would keep you in the hospital for a night or two to be cautious and until the exams were ready.

After texting the group chat and calling Sam to confirm your condition was serious but stable, Sam told him he would be at the hospital as soon as his shift was done. Sam also informed him of Natasha's message not to worry, they could talk about Steve's shift later on. He rapidly turned off the call when a nurse said he was allowed in. Most eyes turned towards him as he walked on his way to your room. People probably wondering if there was a fire nearby.

When he saw you sleeping in your bed, Steve broke down. The nurse left him for privacy and Steve tried to hold back his tears, putting his hand over his mouth. That didn't work. He turned around not bearing to look at you in that hospital bed. Steve was trying to control himself as his sobs just got worse. His breath became rapid as his heart was beating faster than yours, according to the heartbeat machine. His body hunched over and Steve held his knees, the tears getting worse. He barely could breathe right now. What an embarrassment he was. He never got to stop being that weak teenager who cried when things got difficult. You laying down in that bed proved how worthless he truly was.

Steve looked at you over his shoulder again and remembered Sam's words "(Y/N) needs you." Steve closed his eyes, breathing in and out slowly. In and out with your healthy face in his mind. Your happy face. "(Y/N) wouldn't want to see him like this" a mix of Bucky and Sam's voices came into his head and he opened his eyes, feeling much calmer now. He took his helmet, throwing at a sofa nearby, grabbing a chair to sit near you. He had been awake the whole night, waiting for you to open your eyes.

"How long l have been out?" Your voice brought him back to the present.

"Five or six hours. Your family has been informed and they are on their way. Sam is appearing soon as well." Steve stated and you tried to nod, with no success.

"Am I gonna be okay? Did the doctors say anything?"

"They will keep you at night for observation due to a concussion you have. They expect full recovery from you, love." Steve answered, looking down. It was all his fault. If he only had taken you out of that car sooner.

Your hand appeared in his line of vision and Steve lifted his head up. You were crying, desperate for him to hold a part of you. Steve held your hand between his hands, kissing each one of your injured fingers.

"I am sorry. I am so sorry, (Y/N)." Steve mumbled, close to breaking down again.

"Thank you for saving me." You replied back, trying to clean some of the tears with your free hands. You wanted him to hug you, to hold you. You couldn't imagine what he had been through and just wanted to murmur that everything was okay, you both would be okay.

"If I lost you if somehow I didn't save you there, I-I don't know..." Steve confessed, holding your hand against his forehead, tears flowing down his eyes again.

"I am okay. You are okay, Steve." You comforted him between your sobs and without controlling himself, Steve got up from his chair, putting his arms over your shoulders.

It was really what you both needed at the moment. To embrace and to feel you were alive. You were going to be okay. You both were going to be okay.

Bonus:

Jerry got in the Emergency room later that afternoon with a bouquet in his hands. He had heard about your accident from a group message and felt he had to appear. Most of your co-workers had visited you already so he thought he had to show his face, show some sympathy and even cry a little bit if needed.

What surprised him was the number of firefighters in the waiting area. At first, he thought there was a fire going on in the hospital, but since he didn't see anyone screaming, running, or being evacuated, he asked for directions to your room.

What a nice boss he was, Jerry thought to himself. All he needed was a selfie with you in the hospital bed and it would make the directors see how benevolent and how much he cared for his employees.

Jerry knocked on the door and without waiting for any answer, opened it. Damn, you looked bad. He barely recognized with all the bandages around your head. You seemed to be asleep as well, so easy picture. Sitting by your side was a very tall and attractive fireman, with messed blonde hair and blue eyes. He looked as Jerry walked in.

"May I help you?"

Jerry noticed two other men, dressed in casual clothes. One was in the corner of the sofa, black hair, head against the sofa with his eyes closed. The other one was sitting on the edge of the sofa, behind the tall blonde one, his black eyes scanning Jerry up and down. All of those men were so attractive. You never told Jerry you had such sexy friends.

"Y-yes. Hi. My name is Jerry."

The two men waited.

"I am (Y/N)'s boss. I heard about the accident and decided to come to check on them. They don't look very well, so I brought flowers" Jerry announced, slowly getting close to the bed. There were flowers everywhere and get-well cards.

The tall blonde one was up from the chair before Jerry could get closer to the bed.

"I don't think you should be here, Jerry." The dark-eyed one said, getting up as well. Jerry gulped, confused.

"I-I don't know..."

"I don't know if it is your fault or not, Jerry." said the one that had his eyes closed. He lifted up his face from the sofa, his blue eyes piercing him with disgust " But everyone in this room has been kinda pissed off with the asshole that almost killed our friend. And since we can't take on him since he is in jail and (Y/N) was working late because of you, well..."

"It is not my fault this accident happened! I didn't make them work so late!" Jerry tried to justify and he didn't even know why. It wasn't his fault you have gotten yourself into an accident, anyway.

"You are lying. They had been working late because of you. (Y/N) woke up and told me about the project." The blonde tall one said, dangerously getting close to him.

Jerry's soul had instantly left his body. He felt his legs trembling as he had three pairs of angry eyes at him. He could try to run but what about those firefighters outside? It was clear they were there for you. He was screwed.

"It is not my fault, okay?! (Y/N) has been clumsy for so long, never looking where they are going. It was a matter of time before something like this would happen. If I lose my job Monday because of them, I will, I will..."

Jerry felt being pulled by his shirt and shoved against a wall, the bouquet falling to the ground. The tall blonde one was holding him there, staring at him as if he could kill him. Jerry's legs were trembling even more as he saw the other men get up. Oh, he was so freaking screwed. He closed his eyes, whimpering in fear.

"He isn't even worth it, Steve."

Steve held him there for a few more seconds, before letting him go. Jerry had to hold into the wall to not fall to the ground.

"Get the fuck out of here." Steve warned, his voice low. Then he turned away from Jerry, his attention going back to you.

Jerry didn't need to hear twice. He ran away from that hospital, cursing you and your extremely sexy friends mentally. When you got back to work, if you ever did, he had some questions to make you.

MASTERLIST | STEVE ROGERS MASTERLIST

If you want to be tagged on my taglist, just message me or send me an ask!

160 notes · View notes

jewish-ship-showdown · 1 year

Text

Ships that have already qualified (read before submitting):

Jude Lizowski/Jonesy Garcia

Tyler Kennedy "TK" Strand/Carlos Reyes

Peter Parker (Spider-Man)/Gwen Stacey

Willow Rosenberg/Winifred "Fred" Burkle

Francine Frensky/Muffy Crosswire

Susan Ivanova/Marcus Cole

Kate Kane (Batwoman)/Renee Montoya

Barry B. Benson/Vanessa Bloome

Jake Peralta/Amy Santiago

Willow Rosenberg/Tara Maclay

Jack Zimmermann/Eric "Bitty" Bittle

Justin "Ransom" Oluransi/Adam "Holster" Birkholtz

Danny/Reuven

Larissa "Lara" Bogdan/Jasmine

Kelsey Pokly/Isabella "Stacks" Alvarado

Rebecca Bunch/Audra Levine

Rebecca Bunch/Greg Serrano

Rebecca Bunch/Nathaniel Plimpton

Samantha "Sam" Manson/Danniel "Danny" Fenton

Bruce Wayne (Batman)/Selina Kyla (Catwoman)

Bruce Wayne (Batman)/Clark Kent (Superman)

Clark Kent (Superman)/Lois Lane

Harley Quinn/Pamela Isley (Poison Ivy)

Barney Guttman/Logan Nguyen

Leah/Chanan

Shay Goldstein/Dominic Yun

Marvin/Whizzer

Trina/Mendel Weisenbachfeld

Perchik/Hodel

Tzeitel/Motel

Monica Gellar/Chandler Bing

Molly McGee/Libby Stein Torres

Rachel Berry/Noah Puckerman

Fiddleford McGucket/Stanford Pines

Cristina Yang/Owen Hunt

Cristina Yang/Preston Burke

Levi Schmidt/Nico Kim

Rose Lalonde/Kanaya Maryam

James Wilson/Gregory House

The Baker and/The Baker's Wife

Kim Possible/Ron Stoppable

The Jewish People/The Shabbat Bride

Alec Hardison/Parker

Max Eisenhardt (Magneto)/Charles Xavier (Professor X)

Steve Rogers (Captain America)/James "Bucky" Barnes

Arnold "Arnie" Roth/Michael Bech

Arnold "Arnie" Roth/Steve Rogers (Captain America)

Billy Kaplan (Wiccan)/Teddy Altman (Hulkling)

Bobby Drake (Iceman)/Hank McCoy (Beast)

Bobby Drake (Iceman)/Johnny Storm (The Human Torch)

Layla El Faouly/Mark Spector (Moon Knight)

Matthew Hawk (Two-Gun Kid II)/Clint Barton (Hawkeye)

Peter Parker (Spider-Man)/Betty Brant

Peter Parker (Spider-Man)/Eugene "Flash" Thompson

Peter Parker (Spider-Man)/ Felicia Hardy

Peter Parker (Spider-Man)/ Harry Osborn

Peter Parker (Spider-Man)/Katherine Anne "Kitty" Pryde

Peter Parker (Spider-Man)/Mary Jane "MJ" Watson

Peter Parker (Spider-Man)/Wade Wilson (Deadpool)

Steve Rogers/Bernadette "Bernie" Rosenthal

Wanda Maximoff/The Vision

Midge Maisel/Susie Myerson

Hal Emmerich (Otacon)/Solid Snake

Casey Goldberg-Calderon/Lunella Lafayette

Fran Fine/Max Sheffield

Ben Gross/Devi Vishwakumar

Winston Schmidt/Cece Parekh

David Jacobs/Jack Kelly

Seth Cohen/Summer Roberts

Scout Touzani/Elias Wyrick

KJ Brandman/Mac Coyle

Lavinia Asimov/Poison Oak

Phineas Flynn/Isabella Garcia-Shapiro

Anon's Mom/Dad

The person reading this & their partner

Jerry Seinfeld/Cosmo Kramer

Simon Lewis/Isabel Lightwood

Danielle/Maya

Bram Greenfeld/Simon Spier

Miryem Mandelstam/The Staryk King

David Rose/Patrick Brewer

James T Kirk/S'chn T'gai Spock

Worf Rozhenko/Jadzia Dax

Kanan Jarrus/Hera Syndulla

Brian Jeeter/Krejjh

Bobby Singer/Rufus Turner

Jonah Simms/Amy Sosa

Reish Lakish/Rabbi Yochanen

King David/Yonatan

Devorah/Barak

Moses/Tzipporah

Ruth/Naomi

Yaakov/The Angel

Rowan Roth/Neil Mcnair

Klaus Hargreeves/Dave Katz

Cecil Palmer/Carlos The Scientist

Josh Lyman/Donna Moss

Little Ash/Uriel

Lucille "Lucy" Kensington/Dr. Edison "Ed" Tucker

Fox Mulder/Dana Scully

Anshel/Avigdor

Alec Hardison/Parker/Eliot Spencer

Wanda Maximoff (The Scarlet Witch)/Jericho Drumm

Bruce Wayne (Batman)/Shondra Kinsolving

Bruce Wayne (Batman)/Talia Al Ghul

Ben Grimm (The Thing)/Alicia Masters

Velma Dinkley/Daphne Blake

Velma Dinkley/Marcie Fleach

Didi Pickles/Stu Pickles

Velma Dinkley/Coco Diablo

Babushka (Tatiana)/Dedushka (Ivan)

Kitty Pryde/Illyana Rasputin

Natasha Romanoff/Wanda Maximoff

Marc Spector (Moon Knight)/Clint Barton (Hawkeye)

Hillel/Shammai

S'chn T'gai Spock/James T Kirk/Dr. Leonard "Bones" McCoy

S'chn T'gai Spock/Dr. Leonard "Bones" McCoy

Frankie Bergstein/Grace Hanson

Annie Edison/Jeff Winger

Maxine Myers/Paula Cohen

Baby Houseman/Johnny Castle

Tevye/Golde

Michael "Mike" Wazowski/Celia Mae

Talmudic couple having gay sex in the attic

Tim Drake/Kon El (Conner Kent)

Violet Baudelaire/Quigley Quagmire

Reuben Kent/Feliks Kaufmann

Anshel/Avigdor/Hadass

Amram/Zelikman

Anshel/Hadass

SUBMISSIONS ARE OPEN UNTIL MAY 8, 2023 @ 12:00 AM EDT

#info #if you have any reasons a ship shouldn't be on this list let me know since I don't have the ability to fully vet everything #there are a small handful im still considering #will update as more submissions trickle in

47 notes · View notes

mannien · 2 years

Text

Recon the Power

Happy Birthday @real-jane ! I’ve been working on this piece way past your Birthday in my time zone, but I know that it’s still your day back where you are from, so please - accept my most honest and best wishes! 🥳 I made it a goal to publish something for your challenge on your Birthday, to celebrate you and give you a little gift from me. I went definitely overboard and wrote much more than I intended. It’s also the first time I’ve written anything in a while, so it may be a little rusty and faulty here and there. But it’s made with love, curiosity, and passion - just like I see your works! Mine is all over the place, but that’s how I am now. I hope I can edit it someday and show you some progress! Please accept my entry for your Escape Challenge. I hope it will not be the only entry, and that it just sparked my creativity.

Pairing: TFATWS!Bucky x OC!Leah Novak, Sam Wilson x Leah (platonically)

Word count: 4k

Summary: Bucky, Sam and Leah (witch!OC) attend a socialite Halloween Party to get intel about the Power Broker.

Warnings: blood, cobwebs, descriptions of Halloween decor, smut (allusions to sex, fingering, dry humping), death, some violence, alcohol, adult themes

(The pic below was found on Google, if you feel like it’s yours, do let me know, I’ll credit you)

None of them were heading into the most elitist Halloween party by choice, but the name Power Broker among the rumoured guests was too hard to pass. The task seemed simple: find the snitch who gave the Madripoor’s ruler leverage over governors and senators that played key roles in the upcoming military distribution of the US forces. Sam and Joaquin called it a simple recon, Bucky swore on his arm that they will become political puppets soon, and Leah willingly tagged along, promising that it’s just a precaution measure.

Hotel Royal was a private property in New Jersey, owned by the former mayor. It was known for its seasonal banquets and themed parties for politicians, executives, and celebrities. In essence, the place reeked of money, gossip, and underground exchanges of power. It made them all hesitate before leaving the car and leaving it with Torres, who was supposed to be their eyes of the inside, and surrounding area during their stay. The three was left with nothing but a long red carpet stretching into the reception desk.

They checked into a large suite on the third floor. The large, golden number 33 on the door was smeared with fake blood, and the doorknob sprayed with sticky webs that would make Spider-Man roll his eyes in embarrassment. The room itself, just like the whole hotel, looked like the time stopped in the golden era of elite cocktail parties. Dark wood furniture, golden handles, patterned walls and Parisian windows would make it a good romantic spot for a weekend getaway, only if it wasn’t crowded with the money laundering underground societies. The charm would still be there with the fake pumpkins on the tables, but Sam decided to lay out his tactical gear on the couch before dressing up. So much for a cute room from époque.

“Remember, this is just to get information. We’re not engaging until absolutely necessary,” Sam’s decisive voice echoed through the suite, reaching down to the bathroom and the second room. Bucky walked back to him, buttoning his black shirt. “Eat, talk, be all ears.”

“You don’t have to remind me what a recon is.”

“I know. I wasn’t talking to you.” He nodded pointedly to the bathroom, when the makeup bag landed on the floor with a moderate thump.

“If this is an easy recon, then why Torres is lurking around the building and we’re wearing those tiny earbuds?” she fixed her lipstick and pulled up the dress from around her hips, trying to squeeze through it and not rip it.

“They’re called comms, Leah,” Sam was putting on his shiny black shoes that would - the kind that would get him into a ballroom dance competition.

“She knows that.” Bucky’s mumble was shortly followed by her confirmation.

“I know, Sam.”

He shook his head in disbelief at the childish exchange and fixed his shoelaces.

“Relax. We know the drill,” Bucky patted his shoulder. The tight-lipped smile was the most encouragement he could muster, but that was enough for his friend. “now, give me that tiny earbud.”

Sam sent him a look and exhaled heavily at Bucky’s mocking chuckle. They set up the communication channel with Joaquin and put their looks together with shiny cufflinks, shirts nicely fitted into their waistbands, and spritzes of cologne.

She rarely had the opportunity to dress up like this. Face accentuated by light makeup, hair nicely tucked away from her face with two golden bobby pins, and that body-tight dress; the faux-leather corset-like middle hugged her nicely, making her breasts curve just right. The bottom looked like a black princess gown, but cut off just below her ass. It was flowing with dark, delicate fabrics that jumped over the swell of her bum. Her body looked hellishly good in that dress, and Bucky’s mind repeated that statement to himself when he saw her appear in the doorframe.

“Could you help me zip it?” Her timid voice was such a contrast to the way she looked, that even Sam raised his eyebrow in curiosity.

Bucky put away his phone and walked up to her immediately, not even paying attention to the teasing look that their friend served them. She stood with her back to him, already half-zipped, so not too much of her was revealed. He struggled a little with the fastening, scrunching his eyebrows in the meantime.

“Are you sure it’s not…”

“What?”

“It’s not uh…” he stuttered a little, trying to find the right words that wouldn’t offend her clothing choice. “too tight?”

They both paused for a heartbeat, and Leah listened intently into the nervousness that started crawling out of his mind. She bit her lip and shook her head gently.

“No, it fits. Just pull it up a bit more.” She instructed, but Bucky hesitated. He held the hem between his fingers and looked down, eyeing her bottom carefully as it slid through the material.

“Pull it up? Doll, if I pull it up, your whole bottom will be out.” He protested, not even caring about using the pet name in front of Sam. When he heard her groan, he obeyed, and zipped up the dress and fastened the little clasp on top of it.

Leah let out a small ‘thank you’ and shimmied about in the dress, fitting it comfortably around her. She pulled on the back to check how long it is and confidently pushed it up an inch more, covering more of her cleavage.

“Where, uh…” He cleared his throat, lowering his voice. It caught her attention and made her look up, fixing her gaze on his wide blue eyes. “where did you get this?”

“Why? You like it?” Leah’s voice was barely above a whisper, smiling wickedly at his stoic face that started to break with each look down her body. There was a tint of pink spreading over his cheeks. She could feel the warmth that was building up in his mind; she didn’t have to read his feelings to know that he liked it.

“Alright, that’s it. We’re leaving now.” Sam waved at them and opened the door to the suite, inviting them both to walk out with him.

Bucky passed Leah her comms and waited as she left the room first, making sure nothing was left behind. He walked up to Sam, pursing his lips at the proud smirk adorning his friend’s face.

“Please use the room farthest from the door. I don’t wanna hear it.”

By the time they made it to the ground floor, the party was in full swing. The main hall was covered in dark drapes, singular tables stood out with crimson tablecloths and crystal cutlery. The bar was visibly flowing with the fake smoke; waiters and bartenders were wearing either grim makeup, or a tad-too-revealing costumes. Politicians occupied the tall tables near the stage, where frighteningly flexible gymnasts showed off their skills on poles and hoops. The few lounge areas smelled of cigars and heavily poured whiskey. The whole floor was decorated with bloody signs, warning tapes, and random limbs of mannequins hanging on the walls.

“I didn’t know Jersey’s senators would be into hardcore Halloween themes.” Leah’s mumble resonated in their comms. Nobody said anything in response, as they continued to stare at the bizarre décor of the place. They passed a group of A-list celebrities who were filming it and taking candid photos of the party; clad in equally form-fitting clothes, with glasses already half-empty.

A few bystanders looked at the three with curious eyes; they weren’t necessarily hiding and did not wear their tactical uniforms. For some, such sight would be news-worthy. Bucky cursed himself for not wearing his leather gloves – the golden strokes over his fingers glistened under the dim lights and caught attention of those who knew of his past. He moved his hand nervously in an out of a fist, searching desperately for his pocket to hide his left hand. Just when he was clenching his jaw for the first time that night, Leah’s palm gently wrapped around his bionic arm, silently asking him to bend it, so that he could have her wrapped around it. She lifted up a corner of her lips when he looked at her, and saw through her action – she was calming him down. Leah eased the tension and let go of the tightly knotted nervousness. She worked her magic on him.

They walked some more around the main room, taking in their surroundings and the guests that arrived. Governors chatted with art collectors; philanthropists made silent deals with influencers and valuable personas.

“Guys, ten o’clock, a few gang leaders from Madripoor.” Bucky’s eyes wandered to the target offered quietly by Torres. Leah looked the other way, plastering an empty smile to her face as some performers mixed with the crowd.

“I’m gonna go mingle.” He returned a fake smile and squeezed Leah’s palm, before wandering off.

She swayed her hips a bit more to the heavy bass of music. Walking closer to Sam, she was about to offer him a drink, when her train of thoughts was blocked by someone’s heavy intention to talk. She saw the local governor making his way down to Sam, ready to shake his hand generously and congratulate on the latest achievements.

“I’ll be at the bar.” Her soft voice left him with an overly excited, slightly intoxicated politician.

The bartenders must have been paid extra, because the fire and fake blood were interchangeably accompanying each order. She found an empty barstool to sit and straightened up her back, to catch attention of the Dracula pouring another round of bloody Mary for a tech mogul’s wife.

“What can I get you?” He offered her a little bowl of pretzels and lit up a tealight next to her.

“Gin and tonic. Make it sweet.”

While the bartender was fixing her drink, Leah looked around. Sam was nowhere to be found, the crowd even busier than minutes before. It made it difficult for her to read people’s feelings clearer, so she tried to listen in more.

A creeping wave of anxiety, covered deeply by chemically altered excitement, beamed out of the short, dark-haired guy. He kept on circling his tall beer glass, as he allowed the girl next to him chat him up. He laughed at something the pretty blonde said, but he wasn’t focused on her. He kept on checking his watch and taking small, but continuous sips of his drink.

Leah wanted to read more into this, but the Dracula offered her the drink and made a show out of it, sprinkling it with edible glitter. She smiled thankfully and took a sip, admittedly impressed by the taste. She drank a bit more before turning back into focus, but her perception became clouded by the commotion in the other side of the room. Someone picked up a fight, but it quickly died down as security came out of nowhere, fully stocked with weapons to scare everyone off. The show of power resonated through the room, and the fear among the patrons dissolved quickly with fresh rounds of drinks and other refreshments.

When she turned back to the stress-drinker, he was gone. With sweet concoction in one hand, Leah stood up from the bar and tried to focus. She circled the drinking area and kept her eyes open, looking for that mop of hair and overpriced watch. She thought she saw him near the exit, welcoming someone in, but a group of laughing girls crossed her path and broke the connection. She backed off to an emptier side of the room and played with her hair, while saying,

“Torres, brown hair, short male. Sat three seats to the left from me at the bar, just came up to the entrance.”

“On it. Give me some time, let me know if you see him again.”

It went on like this for some time. She walked around, nursing her glittery drink and looking around for anything suspicious. Some people would walk up to her, chat about nothing and share empty excitement over the party. At one point, Sam’s head flashed in-between the swaying bodies. She got closer, watching carefully as a few senators shook his hand and exchanged pleasantries with Captain America in civil clothing. She rolled her eyes at the overload of testosterone emanating from them, so leaving Sam with their attention was the best choice for now. He was just fine.

Finding Bucky was a little more difficult. The mobsters changed their seats and were moving about, making it harder to navigate which group sucked him in. The last spot she hasn’t checked before was the secluded area with velvet lounges, where the skimpy dressed gymnasts came in, but didn’t leave for a while. She downed her drink and walked towards the little corridor.

Before she could turn the corner, a familiar, female voice resonated from the side. Leah could swear she knew that tone; she couldn’t make up the face, but her mind screamed at her to follow it. She pushed the heavy curtain and took a step inside, trying to be subtle and quiet. What she didn’t expect though, was the strong arm pulling her back forcefully, backing her to the main hall swiftly. Her brain didn’t warn her of any danger lurking behind, so she turned on her heels to be met with Bucky’s heavy gaze.

“I wouldn’t go there.” His low whisper was confident enough that Leah didn’t question him. He gestured with his head to the other way of the room and lead her away, making them blend in with the crowd again.

They found the bar with the same Dracula for a bartender, and Bucky pushed his way through enough to locate an empty bar stool for her. He gestured Leah to sit down, as he leaned on the counter and waved the bartender over to make an order.

She spent a minute taking him in. His suit still crisp and without a wrinkle on the shirt, face hard yet a tad softer, when he turned to her. She swore to limit her use of powers on him to bare minimum, so she didn’t read his emotions. She allowed him be, order them a drink each, and make himself busy for a moment.

“You good?” She asked finally.

Bucky took a swing from the beer glass and licked his lips from the excess foam that gathered around his lips. Absentmindedly, he nodded, looking around before speaking.

“Sharon Carter is here. She’s doing a dodgy business with some jocks, I don’t even know who they are. I don’t want to know. There are people involved.”

That made sense. Leah connected the dots and could hear the voice that she heard moments before; it definitely was the toxic blonde that hid more behind her fake smile, than one would have imagined.

“What are you thinking?” She searched for his eyes. He wouldn’t look at her at first, so she reached up with her palm to touch his cheek gently. It got his attention and made him return the look of concern, locking their gazes in a heavy stare.

“The short guy that Leah paid attention to, he invited Sharon Carter in. She was on the list, so, nothing out of ordinary here. Keep looking.”

Torres’s voice never did sound more annoying. Back to square one.

It was past midnight when they reunited with Sam. The whole evening, he was held up by senators and influential figures, all of which were stakeholders of the military programs. He fished for intel, for anyone to sell any lead as to why the Power Broker would want the US military to be involved in their business, but to no success. He made a few friends that potentially could spill a rare detail in the future, but nothing that would help them find the snitch during the party.

They waited out until the main show would slow down. Sam joined their private pity party with Dracula the bartender, and they just watched. A few people would come up to them to say their goodbyes, but Leah wasn’t even sure who they were. Her mind went on a road trip across the whole room again, scanning everyone and everything around. She was focusing so hard that the plastic straw she was holding, broke between her fingers. She let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding, and gently massaged her forehead.

“Hey, you alright?” Sam nudged her in the ribs, and then looked over her head at Bucky.

“Yeah. I’ve been feeling a lot, but never releasing it. It gets heavy.” She mumbled with a groan, closing her eyes for a second.

“You guys go upstairs for a while, get some quiet time. I’ll keep watching,” he nodded toward the exit. “Torres, you still there?”

“All eyes and ears, man.” The connection was still strong, but Joaquin was just quieter, probably more bored and tired with each passing hour.

“Alright. Keep us posted.”

Bucky stood up and took Leah’s hand, pulling her away from the dirty countertop and making her walk away with him. Some security guards nodded at them, almost as if they knew them personally. They stepped into the small elevator and waited patiently for the faulty door to close behind them. She then leaned into him, resting her forehead on his shoulder and letting out a heavy breath. He held her waist and massaged it gently, for reassurance. The elevator stopped at their floor with a little bell sound, and so they walked in silence into their suite.

They left the room clean, and it calmed her senses. They lit up all of the lights and pulled the drapes over the windows. Leah took off her high heels in the middle of the room, not caring about the mess she was leaving behind anymore. Her head was pounding with sudden silence that hit her mind. A shocking wave of unexpected peace made her shudder with relief. She threw herself onto the nearest bed, breathing in the softness of the mattress. She turned on her side to watch him move around the room; he took of his suit jacket and sat down at the couch across from her, legs spread wide comfortably, head resting on the back cushion.

The boiling power bubbled inside of her – her body always sought harmony. She did not use her power physically today, so the accumulated feelings were overflowing. Her eyes were shining with the icy blue hue, making her attention span shift significantly.

She crawled up from bed and slowly made her way to Bucky. He watched her carefully, trying to understand her and her needs. She climbed over his lap, hugging his hips with her thighs. Leah leaned in, resting her forehead on his, locking their gazes in a silent stare off. His hands wandered to her hips, holding her steadily, but lovingly. He massaged her body, trying to ease any discomfort that her body might feel. In return, she leaned down to kiss him on the lips sweetly. Their mouths moved in sync, creating a steady rhythm that started to sway their entire bodies. He knew what she needed and he was more than willing to help her out.

Cold, metal hand palmed her ass cheek. It easily brushed over the delicate material of the dress, making his fingers slip across her body with ease. He repetitively squeezed the firm flesh beneath her clothing, which made her move her hips in unison with his gentle pushes. His harsh tugs on her butt made her grind over his groin, earning a hearty moan out of her throat.

Tight dress slowly hiked up her ass and gave him easy access to the heat of her skin; he released it and quickly grabbed it again, catching it mid-jiggle and making a loud, slapping sound. She kept on moving her hips, feeling her core warm up and soak her panties. Sloppy kisses were interrupted by sudden breath intakes and impatient moans. The steady movement of her hips helped her find the growing bulge in his pants. When she started moving along its length, she let go of his lips with a smack and started kissing his cheek, jaw, and neck. Shamelessly grinding over him, she took a hold of the collar of his shirt and unbuttoned the very top of it. Leah sucked and bit lightly on his neck, not getting enough of the taste of his skin.

Bucky pulled at her panties and moved them to the side, dipping his hand between her ass cheeks and lower. She moaned loudly, feeling the slick wetness leave her core.

“Fuck, baby” Leah almost sobbed, feeling her powers tickle her nervous system. Each movement was more electric and bringing her greater ecstasy. She needed him to touch her, love her, kiss her, and fill her.

“What do you need, doll? Tell me.” He mumbled in between their hot kisses. They were all spit and tongue, teeth clashing when Bucky dipped a finger into her.

She whimpered, stilling her movements as he worked her up. She shook with the overwhelming feeling of pleasure and much needed release.

“Tell me, baby, what do you need?” He pulled out his finger and squeezed her ass.

Too stunned to speak, with shaky hands she reached down to his pants, doing her best to undo his belt and unzip it. She held up her hips to have easier access, fumbling with the zipper and quickly pushing her fingers through the waistband of his boxers. He stopped her by grabbing her wrists in one hand.

“Talk to me,” Bucky made her look down at him, scanning through each other’s faces with attention. “I’ll give you the world, but just talk to me. Just like you make me talk.”

Tears welled up in her eyes; she was overloaded with emotions; her mind powers took a toll on her and she just needed to release it. She couldn’t start shooting up her magic just because she felt like it, so she had to get rid of the heaviness of it all.

“I love you, James,” She kissed him on the lips and looked him straight in his blue orbs, making hers lit up. “I love you so much, and I need you to make me feel so good, that I can forget about everybody’s pain for a moment.”

He smiled with this warm, adoring expression. His face was sparklingly beautiful and looked only at her, nothing else.

What happened next, neither of them expected. Leah was so focused on getting rid of her emotional overload, that she blocked everything else. The lights suddenly switched off, the room drowned in uneasy darkness.

“Sam?” Bucky’s expression hardened, his arms held Leah tighter against his chest.

“The power’s out here too. Joaquin, anything?”

The only thing that Bucky could make out in the room were her eyes. They shone their delicate blue hue, grounding him in distress.

“You have incoming from the main entrance. I can’t scan them, so brace yourselves.”

“Are you gonna be okay?” He whispered to her, not sure how much of their conversation would be muted from Sam and Torres’s comms.

She nodded rapidly, but did so while rapidly wiping at her cheeks. She was letting go of the feelings through heavy tears. Bucky held her by the cheeks and pressed a hard kiss to her lips.

“I love you and I will take care of you, alright?” She nodded in understanding, but sniffed uncontrollably.

They helped each other fix their clothing and blindly search for their weapons. Bucky left the room first, listening in to any sounds on their floor that would suggest any danger. Leah let the blue sparks circle around her fingers, ready to burst up in magical flames to protect them. She lit up the corridor with the blue swirls of energy and followed Bucky down the stairs.

Leah stopped Bucky from leaving the staircase, pointing to the side where she could feel a few people running. They waited out the unwanted company and entered the ground floor, where they saw the backs of the group running away. The one person that turned their way for a split second was the tall blonde, clutching her gun tightly.

“Sharon…” Leah mumbled, looking at her intently, and in disbelief.

Bucky was already ahead of her, kneeling beside a body of a middle-aged man.

“Torres, call 911. One man down.”

“Two more near the bar.” Sam’s heavy voice resonated in their ears, and Leah couldn’t stop the incoming stream of awareness. She kept looking back to where Sharon disappeared into the darkness, feeling the surge of feelings left behind in the air. Her tired mind was swimming fast in the depths of her power, and it helped her understand:

“She’s the Power Broker.”

_____

tagging: @real-jane

22 notes · View notes